I peer at him from beneath my lashes. “Am I your mistress then?”
“You are everything.”
Lowering to his knees, he kisses me sweetly and fits himself into the welcoming cradle of my hips. The hot, silky prod of him where I’m wettest makes me gasp against his mouth. He’s not even inside me, and I’m ready to shatter from the intensity.
Desperate for more of the delicious friction on my swollen flesh, I angle my hips upward with a whimper. He groans as the crown of him nudges my entrance, but then he holds himself perfectly still. “I... Sorry, I forgot to ask. Are you protected?”
“Yes.” All Oryndhrian women have access to an inoculation to prevent pregnancy. It’s not to dissuade sex, only to help ensure unwanted pregnancy doesn’t occur.
“I’m healthy and free of disease,” he tells me gently.
“Me, too.”Mostly because I’ve never done this before.“Move, Roshan,” I beg.
“By the maker, you undo me,” Roshan mutters against my lips, his hips swirling against mine and making me see actual stars every time the tip of him strokes against the sensitive bundle of nerves at my apex. “You’re driving me to distraction. So wet. Sohot.”
“Then put us both out of our misery and fill me.”
He gives a shallow thrust, and I suck in a breath at the unbelievable pressure of him notching into me. I’m uncomfortably snug, but I knew I would be, even with his careful, meticulous preparation earlier. My body will accept him eventually. I mean... I hope it will.
“Ashes, you’re tight,” Roshan rasps. I peek up, and his face is screwed up, eyes shut, as though he, too, is in pain. Muscles straining, he rocks back and then slips in another inch. Tensing, I bite my lip and breathe out, willing the immense pressure to subside. He’s not halfway in, and I already feel as though I’m going to split in two. What in Droon would all of him feel like?
Unwilling to let my fears rise, I clutch at the firm globes of his muscular ass and dig my fingernails into him. “Kiss me.”
His lips claim mine, hot and wild. His tongue dips then retreats, teasing and possessive all at once, in mimicry of what he means to do below, and I’m whimpering by the time his lips trace a delicate path down my jaw, my neck, and my collarbones. His fingers wrap into my hair, forcing me to arch and present my breasts for his pleasure. And he takes it without mercy, torturing my erect nipples with nibbles and languid strokes of his tongue until I’m panting, hips grinding upward, begging him to sink deeper.
“Make me yours, Ro. I need you.”
With a growl, he does with one powerful stroke, and despite how aroused I am, I hiss at the bite of pain as his body fuses fully with mine, the huge length of him pulsing like a brand I can feel throbbing everywhere inside of me. Tears sting my eyelids. I’m so full of him that I can barely breathe, but somewhere deep, it feelsmonumental.
Roshan stills, his eyes flying open. “You were a virgin,” he says, holding himself above me, seated to the hilt in my body. His jaw is tight; his gaze is distraught.
“What does it matter?”
Wiping the tear that had escaped the corner of my eye with his thumb, he lets out a breath. “It matters to me. I could have done more... taken greater care with you.”
“This is perfect.” I smile at him and wiggle my hips slightly, causing us both to gasp. “You’re big and I’m small. What did you think would happen? Do I need to give you a lesson in mass concepts, my prince?”
Roshan grins back, the alarm fading from his expression as his large body twitches. “Fuck, Sura, call me that again.”
I shift one ankle up to notch over his calf, my inner walls flexing around his girth.“My prince.”
His deep, primal groan is my reward as his thick eyelashes flicker shut, a dull flush staining his cheekbones. My body has finally begunto feel good, and the more I grind myself against him, the better I feel. Pain rides the edge of pleasure, but suddenly, my core flutters in anI want morekind of feeling. I need movement. My expression must say as much because he laughs and kisses me so sweetly that my toes curl.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he whispers against my lips, and starts to ease out of me. The burn on the heel of his withdrawal is satisfying instead of painful, and when he pushes back in, I feel the pleasure in my core rising again. “Good?” he mumbles.
“So good,” I gasp. “Just go slow.”
“Whatever you need.”
Sands, he’s such a thoughtful lover that I want to cry from the tenderness of it. But I don’t cry. I give over to the heat consuming me instead. With every measured thrust, the pressure in my core builds. The prince gasps against my neck, body shivering against mine. We’re both climbing toward a climax that promises to obliterate us.
“Faster, Roshan,” I whimper, meeting him now stroke for stroke with eager, uncoordinated, hungry pulses of my hips.
To my shock, he stops, nearly making me scream with frustration, and sits up, taking me with him. Then he turns us so I’m back to the position that started all of this—me straddling him. “Pick whatever pace you like, my starling.”
So I do. At first I’m unsure, my movements jerky, but then I find a rhythm that makes my jaw slacken, and when he circles his hips and hits a spot inside of me, my legs start to shake. More urgently now, I lift my body and lower it, riding him as though I’m racing a horse over the desert sands of Coban. My eyes drift shut as I chase the release that’s just out of reach.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says. “A goddess.”
