My breath catches, heat flooding through me. “Show me,” I whisper, the words barely more than a plea.
He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He raises and gently pushes me back onto the sofa, pulling me by the waist to the edge, and drops to his knees before me. Strong hands grab my legs, starting at the calves, and he slowly runs his hands up, bunching my dress with them. Around the inside of my knees to the sensitive area of my inner thighs. My dress bunches around my waist as he drapes my legs over his shoulders and bends down towards me. I feel his hair tickle my inner thighs, his hot breath over me as he gets closer. His fingers slip inside the band of my underwear, and he starts to pull.
“Are these your favourites?”
“Not particularly.”
“Good.” With one tug, he rips them from me and throws them over his shoulder.
I’ve known pleasure. I’ve felt the heat of passion ride through me at his kisses and touch. But when his tongue touches my sensitive apex, the feeling is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. I jolt my hips towards his mouth and cry out as he swirls around my clit with his slick tongue.
“I guess youhaven’tbeen kissed everywhere before, Princess.” He laughs, and the vibrations from his words send another wave of fire burning to my core.
His tongue slides down the length of me, back and forth, slowly but insistently, sending fresh bolts of pleasure everytime he reaches my clit. I writhe against him, but he holds me to his mouth, his hands clasping my cheeks.
“You taste like sunlight here too,” he says breathlessly. “And it’s so fucking intoxicating.”
Then his tongue enters me—warm, deliberate, hard and devastatingly sure. It sends sparks racing along my nerves, building something vast and terrifying inside me. My hips lift of their own accord, seeking more of this exquisite torment, and a moan escapes me—raw, unguarded. He’s licking and swirling and delving deeper each time. The heat becomes unbearable—not painful, but overwhelming, like standing too close to a flame and wanting nothing more than to let it consume you entirely.
And through it all, there’s him. The intimacy of this moment crashes over me—his hands on my skin, his breath against me, the way he’s learning every response my body gives. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s everything.
His voice—low, commanding, intimate—breaks through the haze. “Let go. Come for me, Princess.”
The words shatter something inside me.
I surrender completely, every defence crumbling as the fire in me erupts. The release crashes through me in devastating waves—white-hot and all-consuming. My body arches off the sofa, trembling violently as pleasure rips through every nerve. I cry out as the intensity steals my breath. It’s not just physical—it’s the trust, the vulnerability of giving myself over to him completely.
Wave after wave rolls through me, each one pulling me deeper into blissful oblivion, until I’m nothing but sensation and emotion, shaking and gasping beneath his touch.
He gets up and leans over me, palms down on the sofa on either side of me. He looks into my eyes with such wonder and lust and leans in, taking my mouth once again. His tonguethat had been inside me moments ago swirls with mine. I can taste myself mixed with his rain and static sparks. He groans against me, his hips thrusting against my knee as he finds his own release. I feel his tremor vibrate on my lips. As everything calms into a steady, soothing kiss, his hand comes up and cups my face. He pulls away and rests his brow on mine, our rhythmic panting breaths combining.
He smiles. “So, do you want to run now?”
“No. I don’t,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I struggle to catch my breath, and I can feel my heart pounding against my ribcage. The words come out shaky and uncertain, betraying the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me in this moment.
He stands and runs both hands over his face, then back into his hair. I don’t think his hair can get any messier or sexier if he tried. He looks down at his loose trousers and laughs. I notice the wet patch at his crotch. A light dusting of pink rises to his cheeks, and he turns towards his bedroom.
“I think I need another pair of trousers.”
Chapter Twelve
Prince Kiernan
The castle has been in absolute chaos for the last few days as preparations for the Commitment Ball put everyone in a frenzy.
I’ve avoided most of it by hiding in the library, continuing my research on the Marriage Bond. Still nothing. Not even in the books Alaya found. My frustration joins the multitude of emotions swirling through me—a storm threatening to break.
But it’s not the Bond that occupies my thoughts as I sit in this quiet solitude.
It’s the King.
His stability fractures more each day. These recent threats from the Equitae have stoked his fire for their demise, his fury burning through whatever restraint and logic he had left. Our relationship—never warm, never that unconditional love a father should give a son—has deteriorated beyond repair. He sculpted me with hands of iron, crushed my defiance with words of cruelty and malice, encouraged mistrust and fear under cold fists. My back is tender but bearable under my robes, having healed well with her care.
The true scars run much deeper.
My defiance in his office pushed him beyond even my reach. Where before I could coax him back from the edge, temper his greed for power, now he’s jumped without looking for a way back up. Yesterday, the General—his most trusted ally—madethe mistake of questioning our strategy for Heartwood. He warned caution, cited our lack of intelligence on their warrior numbers, reminded him that Heartwood is an impenetrable fortress between impassable mountains.
He won’t question the King again.
