“Don’t worry, I’m not watching!” Demaya’s voice rings out from the doorway. Then, under her breath, “much.”
Drayven’s head whips around toward her, a protective snarl forming on his lips. But I grab his stubbled chin, forcing his face back to me.
“Eyes on me,” I command.
“So pushy.” His pupils dilate as he meets my stare. “Never stop.”
In one fluid motion, he rises, towering over me. His large hand cups my nape, fingers tangling in my hair as he lifts me to my feet. Our mouths collide, his tongue driving past my lips.
Hormones riot in my body.
This is why he intoxicates me. He’s not intimidated by my confidence, my power, my blood. It turns him on. He doesn’t need to put me down or belittle me to feel validated. His fingers trail between my thighs and glide through my wet center. We both groan.
Demaya’s tinkling laugh fades as she backs out of the temple. “I’ll keep watch,” she calls. “Try not to bring the place down around us.”
I barely register her words. Drayven’s hands are everywhere—cupping my breasts, squeezing my ass, trailing fire across my skin. He breaks the kiss, still towering over me with a wicked glint in his eyes.
Shirtless, scarred, and perfect. My gaze lowers from his handsome face to his slabs of hard pectoral, defined abdomen, and leather breeches…
“Why are your pants still on?” I grumble.
He swipes his thumb across his bottom lip, too distracted by whatever deviant thoughts race in his head to answer me. Heat pools between my thighs.
“Sit down,” he orders gruffly.
“Excuse me?”
“Pleasesit down on your throne. My queen.” He intends to be polite but can’t contain the craving in his gravelly voice. “I have some groveling to do.”
It’s not that I don’t want to sit. I’m just too aroused to move a limb. He growls impatiently, lifts me beneath my thighs, and drops me onto the throne.
With a wolfish grin, his knees hit the ground. He tears open my borrowed shirt. Cool breeze brushes against my flushed skin as he bares me to his hungry gaze. His calloused hands cup my naked breasts, thumbs brushing over hardened nipples. Pleasure sparks. I moan, arching into his touch.
“I didn’t do this right the first time,” he murmurs, watching his hands play with me. “But in case you’re doubting what’s happening here. You’re mine. If you’ll have me.”
“You know I will?—”
“Let me finish.” Dark eyes flash. He slides his palm between my breasts. “This heart is mine.” He splays his hand possessively over my lower belly. “This womb is mine. The children you’ll bear are mine.”
My heart seizes. “Prove it.”
He pushes my thighs apart, exposing me. Cool air hits my slick core, teasing my sensitive flesh. I should feel vulnerable, spread open on this unholy seat of power. Instead, I feel invincible. So aching and aroused that I squirm. Whimper. Make stupid little sounds that only draw out his delay. Finally, he lowers his mouth to my cunt. His first lick through my folds has me gasping, hips bucking against his face.
Drayven’s tongue delves deeper, stroking and swirling with languid skill. Hot pleasure coils tight in my belly. My hands fist in his hair, holding him against me as I grind shamelessly on his face. His eyes clash with mine, holding me captive as he increases his tongue’s pressure and pace around my clit.
“Fuck, Dray,” I pant, head thrown back. “Don’t stop…”
He groans against my flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves through me. I’m so close, teetering on the edge.
“Just a little more…” I beg.
With a final, devastating lick, I shatter. My climax crashes over me, wave after wave, my body convulsing with the force of it. Drayven laps greedily at my cunt, prolonging my pleasure until I’m a quivering, mewling mess. When the last aftershock fades, he pulls back, his eyes dark and intent, mouth and chin glistening.
“You taste so sweet,” he rumbles, licking his lips. “I could feast on you for hours.”
I shiver at the thought, my oversensitive flesh clenching with renewed arousal. But I need to feel him inside me, claiming me, making me his.
“Dray,” I whimper, reaching for him. “Please…”
