Silas jolts from the touch, his gaze filled with heat.
“Finally.” Silas smirks. “I’ve been waiting all day for this.”
His eyes darken as I lead him down the stairs toward our small cabin. His hands begin exploring my body from behind, trailing up and down my spine and sending shockwaves straight to my core in anticipation.
Before I can make it across the threshold, Silas spins me, and his lips find mine. His kiss becomes feral as he guides me backward toward our bed. I turn us before he can sit me down, causing him to fall onto the cot with a thud, his eyes growing large in surprise.
“Now, now, Mr. Nastronde, I believe you said you would do whatever I wanted.”
“I did,” he agrees.
“So, I’m in charge.”
His gaze turns wild. “Go on.”
“Lay back,” I demand.
He hesitates but obeys.
“Good boy,” I mock.
Silas stretches his arms wide above his head before tucking them under his messy hair. A devilish grin spreads across his face as he waits for me to continue.
“You may only move when I say you can.”
He nods.
“I need your words,” I say, sharply. “So, use them.”
“I’ll only move when you say I can.”
“Perfect.”
I move toward the bed and place my hands on his muscled thighs, slightly massaging them, before moving my hands up his body. I remove his shirt, revealing his toned stomach with the many faded scars in no organized fashion. Starting at his neck, I begin to kiss him, soft and gentle. I make my way down his chest, then stomach. A deep moan leaves his lips as I move lower, just barely above the waistband of his pants, before I pause.
Raising my head, I gaze at his handsome face, his eyes drunk with lust and a hint of wine. I begin to slide down his pants, never breaking my stare, and start kissing once more. Lower and lower with each delicate peck, I flick my tongue against his warm, tanned skin. His hands move and tighten in my hair as Inear his cock with my mouth. I lift in a flash, and his hands drop to the side.
“Are you moving?” My shadows begin to dance around my body as invisible hands snake up his, slowly massaging their way to pin them down.
“Briar, let me fucking touch you.”
I return to my ministrations, teasing him with my lips.
“Seeing you utterly defenseless brings me joy,” I breathe. “I want you to beg, Prince.”
He growls low. “It would take me mere seconds to pin you down, Briar.”
“Not yet.”
His head lifts from the bed as he props himself on his elbows. “You. Are. Wicked.”
“Silas,” I warn, asking him to lie back.
His head falls backward onto the sheets once more, and I begin to move my mouth, my lips grazing over his tip. I flick my tongue in a rhythm that has him squirming under my hold.
“That delicious fucking mouth will be the end of me,” he groans, voice low and needy.
“Is that all?” I ask, moving my tongue from his length. “That doesn’t sound like a plea to me.”
