Page 29 of The Poison Princess and the Lord of Misrule

I hear it just enough to torture me, and I swear I will hear it for the rest of my wretched life.

My body, which has been a battlefield since the moment I saw her in the throne room, surrenders entirely. The blood leaves my brain. My hand goes white where it grips the tree bark. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t tear my gaze away from her.

Sera eases through the water, coming up on the riverbank. Her knees sink into the silt, the river water rising mid-thigh. And bathed by the moonlight, I can see every beautiful, sensual inch of her. The outline of her heavy breasts, her nipples hard against the sheer material.

Daringly, she moves her hand lower, exploring over her belly, pelvis, ratcheting my heart rate the moment her fingertips draw the hem of her nightdress up to rest just below her hips, before her fingers dip beneath it.

I mutter a crass oath, back pressed hard against the tree, as I watch her sensually touch herself between her thighs.

The tilt of her head, the soft rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her free hand goes to her throat and presses gently as if she’s feeling her own pulse race—I take it all in, transfixed.

As her hand moves rhythmically between her spread thighs, her lips part, and a real sound escapes her—low but unmistakable. Her hips shift forward, chasing the stroke of her fingers. Her free hand drops to her breast, fingers pinching her peaked nipple, an action to draw another softsound from her as her hips cant with more demand, more urgency into her hand.

The tantalizing sight of her pleasuring herself on this riverbank hits me like a physical blow. Some guttural sound escapes me, and I clamp my hand over my mouth before it can fully form, my throat working, my body responding without permission.

And then?—

Her eyes are searching the line of the reeds, the shadow where I stand concealed. And I know with a certainty that lights my entire body on fire that she’s looking for me. Her gaze never finds me, but I’m still intoxicated by the chance of being caught watching her.

Through the dark, through the thick wall of reeds, my gaze stays locked on her, and I see the faint flicker of a smile at the corner of her mouth—that mouth that I’m dying to taste.

It emboldens me, and I daringly stand taller.

Her lips part on another sound, a small shudder, a hitch in her breath, the tilt of her hips into her own touch—fuck.

Her hips rock against her hand in search of relief, and I’m just as desperate to find it with her while she undoes herself.

I’m dying against this tree, a man-shaped pillar of want, gripping the bark like it’s the only thing keeping me held back. My pulse is roaring. My body is begging. My trousers are agony. I have never in my life been confronted with anything I have desiredmore than her.

My hand drops of its own volition. I rub over my achingly hard cock straining against my pants. Then I’m pulling the drawstring, setting myself free. Eyes never straying from her, I bring my hand up and lick a path over my palm, wetting it just enough before I grasp the base of my cock.

I bite off a hiss. The relief is so sharp it nearly drops me to my knees. I press my shoulder blades harder against the tree as I take myself firmer in my hand. I close my eyes for half a second at the feel of stroking myself and then open them, refusing to miss a single instant, refusing to look away from her even as my own pleasure starts to climb hot and unbearable in my strained muscles.

I want her eyes on me. Right now, as I listen to her breathy moans, as I watch her ride her own fingers. I imagine stalking from the shadows and laying her down in the shallow water, wrapping her inviting thighs around my shoulders and burying my face between them?—

“Gods, fuck.” The muttered expletive is stripped from me on a harsh breath.

A shiver grips my bones, and a crackling pressure builds at the base of my spine. I’m thrusting into my hand, chasing my own release with frantic, hard snaps of my hips.

Whatever this unholy communion is between us, I drown in it, the way I’m dying to drown in her.

Her movements quicken. Her chest rises and falls in sharp, shallow rhythms. Her lips part on a sound that ishungry and unrestrained, and it travels right to my groin, undoing me.

My grip tightens around my cock. My breath shatters out of me.

Sera arches her back, knees digging deeper into the muddy bank as her body trembles, and I’m desperate to taste her, bury myself deep inside her, feel her clench hot and tight around me?—

Gratification is cut short at her sudden stillness, holding me locked—but then her eyes seal shut, her beautiful features strain in pleasure as a sound breaks out of her that gods-damn ruins me.

And I want it. I want to make itmine.

Head braced against the tree, chin cocked and jaw clenched, I stroke myself in fast, desperate moves as I take in the last of her shuddering pleasure. Then I fall right after her.

I come with a violent groan, biting the inside of my own forearm to stay silent, my hips jerking, the wave of pleasure tearing through me with such force the corners of my vision flickers as I spill hot over the edge of my hand.

The rock of my hips slows, my hand loosens, letting the last of my release quake through my body with the aftershocks. Breath heaving from my chest.

I have never felt more wrecked in my life. Even now, I can’t look away from her.