“I know. I can feel it, your pussy fluttering around me,” he rasped, one hand bracing the mirror behind me, the other pinching my nipple hard, twisting until I whined. Our sensations bled together: his cock throbbing from my squeeze, my clit pulsing from his grind. It built fast, coiling tight.
Pleasure hit like a storm, and we shattered together. My pussy spasmed, milking him as I came, juices squirting around his shaft. He buried deep, cock jerking, flooding me with hot cum, spurt after spurt painting my walls. I sank teeth into his shoulder, muffling the scream, fabric tearing under my bite. He groaned into my neck, body shuddering, hips stuttering through the waves.
I clung to him, panting, his dick still twitching inside my pulsing hole, cum leaking out to drip on the counter. Slowly, he pulled back, eyes dark as he traced the mate mark on my throat, that old bite scar from our bonding. His tongue lapped it soft, sending jolts straight to my core, making me shiver.
“Mine,” he murmured, nipping the edge.
For a second too long, we just stayed there, still joined, catching our breath, wrapped around each other while a banquet full of nobles continued just down the hall. Probably wondering where the king and queen of Ravenor had disappeared to. Probably coming up with their own theories.
They’d be right, of course. But that was their problem, not mine.
“You are everything,” Mal said softly, his lips brushing my skin. “My heart beats because you exist.”
“You’re mine,” I replied, running my fingers through his hair. “Every breath I take is for you. Even when you make me have sex in bathrooms during important political banquets.”
“Especially then,” he corrected, and I could feel his smile.
“We’re going to get a reputation,” I warned him.
“We alreadyhavea reputation,” he replied, completely unbothered.
Fair point.
Someone else knocked, harder this time, more insistent.
We ignored them entirely.
Mal helped me off the counter carefully, supporting me when my legs wobbled. Then he fixed my dress with surprising gentleness for someone who’d just thoroughly ravaged me on it. He smoothed the fabric, adjusted the bodice, worked out the wrinkles we’d created. His fingers were careful, precise, treating the task with the same attention he gave to strategy meetings.
“You’re very good at that,” I observed as he fixed my hair. “Should I be concerned about how much practice you’ve had undressing and then re-dressing women?”
“Only you,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “For the past five years. Repeatedly.”
“Repeatedly,” I agreed. “Often in inappropriate locations.”
“We have a pattern.”
“We have a problem.”
“We have excellent taste in inappropriate locations,” he countered.
I returned the favor, helping him straighten his formal jacket, buttoning it properly, making sure he looked presentable. Or as presentable as possible given what we’d just done. I noticed the missing button and decided not to mention it.
I stepped back to assess our work. “We look thoroughly ravaged.”
“We look happy,” Mal corrected, pulling me close and pressing his lips to mine.
“That too,” I admitted.
He kissed me again, slow and sweet this time, without the desperate urgency from before. Just devotion and affection and contentment.
“What if we ditched the banquet?” he suggested against my lips. “Went to our actual bed? Took our time?”
I grinned. “I like the way you think.”
We finally unlocked the entrance and stepped out into the hallway to find Aurion practically dancing in place outside, his face a mask of barely controlled desperation.
“FINALLY!” he burst out the moment he saw us. “I am fucking peeing myself! You two have been in there for TWENTY MINUTES!”
