I need you to be inside of—
With a pump of his hips, he thrusts the whole thing in—every thick centimeter, and Holy Cauldron, there are many, many of those.
I just lay there, stunned. And full. Really,reallyfull. “Were you this big yesterday?”
“I’m quite certain I stopped growing everywhere a few centuries ago.”
“All right, then . . .” When he still hasn’t moved, probably afraid it may crackle my insides, I ask, “Are you planning on playing dead?”
The male blinks at me, and then he laughs, that beautiful booming laughter of his that resonates in every corner of my bedroom and body. When he begins to roll his hips, his length glides in and out of me so smoothly that it feels as though he’s coated in oil.
I’m coated in you.
The wet glide of our skin sets my cheeks ablaze.
Balancing himself on one arm, he slides one hand down my front, over my peaked nipples. When he reaches the hem of my shirt, he rolls it up to reveal my breasts which he gazes at with great fondness. I can tell he hungers to suckle them and it takes everything in him not to take them in his mouth.Someday, Little Bird, I will feast on those pretty pink nipples.He keeps rocking his hips steadily—neither fast nor slow—but rather like a male not pressed for this to end.
His fingers trace the seam of my rib cage before traveling farther. When he reaches my engorged nub, he flicks it, which makes me tighten around him.
Focá.He flicks me again, and again, and my core chokes his cock.
He snarls a series of undecipherable words, quickening the pace of both his thumb and hips. When my muscles clench, and I cry out his name, he groans. And then he glides out of me completely and moves down my body, replacing his hard length with his tongue.
Mórrígan, how I’ve craved kissing your sweet slit all fucking day.He spreads my thighs wide and laps at me, gorging himself on my taste.
My blood burns so hot that my veins feel incinerated, and my lungs, like useless mounds of ash. As he groans against me, savoring the mess between my thighs, my core clenches and fills his mouth anew. He licks until he’s sopped up every last drop, then he rises onto his knees, seizes my hips, and flips me onto my stomach.
He grabs a pillow and props it beneath my stomach, then grips my hips and drags the head of his cock along the crease of my ass. He better not be contemplating sticking it inthere. I don’t care what my friends claim. I’m not ready to be gored, especially since Lore’s cock is a forearm, not a dainty finger.
He chuckles, the sound deep and velvety.I promise not to penetrate that hole tonight.
Or any other night.I try to twist my neck to better see him.Or day, for that matter.
I swear to only stretch your ass with your consent, mo khrà.
Unlike earlier, he feeds himself into my core slowly. My body begins to hum as he moves in languid thrusts, because this new angle feels . . . divine. His thumbs squeeze the base of my spine and knead, and Santo Caldrone, I see stars, and not from my window, but on the backs of my lids.
Lore, I moan as the imaginary stars streak across my mind.
Come with me, Behach Éan.His hips set a punishing rhythm, striking me in that sensitive spot over and over until my stomach clenches like a fist and I shout out his name for his entire kingdom to hear.
Ourkingdom, Lore growls, a thin sheen of sweat misting his forehead. “Ours,” he repeats, out loud this time, his timbre as rough as his pace.
I swallow. The beast making love to me may be my king, but I’m not yet his queen.
Today, Behach Éan. Today, we—Eyes shaded black, he pumps himself one final time and stills. Only the buried part of him moves, twitching as he pours himself into me in long, fiery bursts.
Is it strange that I even love the feel of him painting my walls with his seed?
We shall remedy this today, he rasps, thumbs still drawing arcs over the base of my languid spine.
My brain must’ve turned to mush because I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what the two of us must remedy.
Every brick of muscle strains against his pearlescent skin as he leans over me to press a kiss to my shoulder blade.Making you my queen.
Sixty-Two
After Lorcan Ríhbiadh decided that today was to be my coronation, my heart seized and hasn’t resumed beating. He still lies over me, his cock softening unlike his resolve to set a crown upon my brow.
