“Touch me,” I demand, craving him.
“Yes, Your Highness,” he complies, amused—as if he’s accepting orders from a superior.
He closes the distance between us and possesses my mouth. His chest presses against my breasts, and my nipples harden at the friction.
He kisses me deeply, passionately, completely. His hands wrap around the nape of my neck, cradling me like I’m something precious.
But the intimacy of it unsettles me.
Kissing is for lovers. Sex is for escaping. And I need escape.
I pull back, breaking the kiss with finality.
I spin my body, pressing my ass into him in invitation, and sweeping my braids over the front of my shoulder.
I don’t want to get lost in the oceans of his eyes; I want to travel far from here on waves of pleasure.
“I want to be fucked, Kael,” I snap, frustrated.
He doesn’t say anything.
But he understands.Instantly.
And he gives me what I want.
Because his huge, calloused palm presses firmly into the space between my shoulders and throws my chest forward so I’m bent over, resting my hands on the bed.
A whimper escapes my lips. Because I need this. I need to be lost to pleasure.
I spread my legs, pressing my ass back—an invitation to take me.
His hands caress my ass in worship and I know his gaze is on me—getting his fill.
One hand sweeps between my legs and he hums appreciatively with raw satisfaction at the evidence of my arousal. “Youdowanna be fucked, don’t you, El?”
His voice shifts from reverence to raw, devotional to dirty.
And I fucking crave it.
I force myself to nod, frustration building at the way he’s making me wait.
“Words, El. You know how this works,” he says, voice smoky and raw. And I do.
“Yes, Kael. I want to be fucked,” I grit out in agitation.
He drops to his knees in one swift motion, and a surprised gasp slips from my mouth as I feel his ragged breath against the cheek of my ass.
“You don’t get to makeallthe rules, darling,” he teases.
Oh gods.
His hands grip my ass, and he blazes kisses across each cheek with lust and the promise of sin.
Heat coils low in my belly with every slow, claiming drag of his mouth. My pulse stutters, caught between fear, wanting, and the unbearable relief of being wanted like this.
Then he spreads my cheeks, and his tongue sweeps up my center.
Holy fucking Stars.
