Page 96 of Given to the Black King

He hears the change in my breath. Smells the new rush of heat.

“Look at me.”

I do.

He brings me to the edge while watching my face. Stops there.

I make a sound that has no dignity in it.

“Please.”

“What?”

“You know.”

His fingers curl.

“Say it.”

“Make me come.”

He does.

Hard enough that my back lifts off the cloak. His hand covers my mouth too late to hide the cry. The orgasm rolls through me in sharp pulses around his fingers while he watches every one.

He does not give me time to settle.

He turns me over.

My cheek presses into his cloak. He draws my hips up and spreads my knees with one foot.

A claw traces the outside of my other thigh. Another shallow line. The sting makes me push back.

He smells the reaction and growls.

His hands close around my hips.

“Tell me what you want.”

There are no diplomatic sentences left.

“You. Hard.”

He frees himself.

The slick flare presses between my folds. A raised band below it catches at my entrance. His cock is wet with his own heat and with everything he drew from me, but the first stretch still bites.

He drives the crown inside and stops with the ring pressing just past the tightest point, giving my body time to take him.

I breathe. Push back. The hard lines along his underside drag through me. I take another inch, then another, until the thick shaft fills the space his fingers opened.

His claws dig into the cloak beside my hips.

His base has already begun to swell, adding pressure where our bodies meet without holding me. I rock back against it because I know what the fullness means now.

His growl breaks over my back.

When I have all of him, he bends over me and bites the safe place where shoulder meets neck.