“Are you flexing for me?”
His lips bend, and he gives his head another shake, as though he cannot believe I’d ask such a thing. “Is your birthday present to your satisfaction, Miss Ríhbiadh?”
“Visually, yes. But I’ll need a taste before formulating my official position.”
I have never, ever witnessed someone’s eyes go from shiny-white to pitch-black as quickly as Konstantin’s in that moment. Or perhaps I have, but in battle. Never in a bedroom.
Just when I think he couldn’t possibly look at me with more hunger, I take him inside my mouth, and he proves me wrong.
I squeeze his ass and guide him deeper. When his tip hits the back of my throat, his fingers sink into my hair, and he releases a sound that is so primal and husky that my pussy clenches, lapping it right up.
I glide him in and out just as torturously as he worked me, adding swirls of my tongue that has his teeth gritting and a sheen of sweat forming on his brow, and then I quicken my pace, kneading the muscles of his backside.
He chokes on a breath, then on my name, then yanks on my hair to force my mouth off his spasming cock. His seed splashes my chin and collarbone.
I blink up at him in surprise. “Why did you pull out?”
“Because—I was—coming.”
“And?” I ask provocatively, sitting back on my heels and gathering the white drips of his pleasure on my finger.
He says nothing as I feed myself his cum, just watches in absolute rapture. Two sucks of my finger later, his cock is hard again.
He snatches one of my pillows and wipes me, then tosses the rose-hued cushion aside and hinges at the waist. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“About?”
“If I’m not your mate, and you don’t reject the male who is, I will do it for you.”
“I don’t think saying no to him will?—”
“Not with words.” His violence should frighten me, but it does theexactopposite. All of me heats and beats in anticipation of what he’d do to keep me. “Even if you loathed me for the remainder of my existence, I’d do it.”
“So we could be miserable together?”
He flinches, as though I’d slapped him, then angles his gaze toward the discarded pillow and glowers at it.
“Konstantin,” I say with a sigh, “there’s something you should know about my great-grandmother.”
“I’m listening.”
“She’s the craftiest person to ever come out of the Cauldron. The probability that she lied to you about the necklace not snuffing out shifter bonds is high.”
“Why in the world would she do such a thing?”
“To keep us both from the temptation of stripping you of her shield.”
The scowl that drapes over his face is nothing short of murderous. “I swear. The members of your family enjoy torturing me.”
I grin. “No one more than me, dearly beloved.”
With a punishing gust of magic, he flattens me against the bed. The smile that sculpts his scowl can only be described as wicked as he rids me of my underwear, working it around my boots, which he’s been intent on keeping on my person, and then he grips my ankles and hauls me to the edge of the bed. He lines himself up. Waits.
When I dip my head in silent assent, he sinks in.Fully.
He freezes, expression slack with horror. “Shit. I don’t know what possessed me to— Are you all right?”
“Happy birthday to me,” I singsong around a moan that slackens the remorse crimping his features. “Again, please.”
