Page 114 of A Requiem of Fire and Ice

Fuck.

My hand moves around her waist, pulling her closer to me, and if I freed myself now, my cock would perfectly slide into her pussy. Her moans hitch when I move out of her, take her hand and let her feel her warmth while I make her come before I lose my fucking mind and do something I regret.

Like killing Pandora before our designated time.

I rub hard against her moistened clit. “Come on my fingers, Pandora.”

Blush creeps across her already-flushed cheeks as she pulls away from me. “I already did.”

I stop rubbing and arch my chin while staring down at her. “When?”

“When I said your name…”

That was so fucking long ago. “Why didn’t you tell me to stop?”

“It felt good?” She shrugs. “I didn’t want it to end.”

I laugh. “Fuck me, Pandora. You’re a fucking nightmare.”

She cracks a smile and removes her fingers, and I do the same. Pandora wraps her arms around my shoulders, leans in and says, “Then I will be the best fucking nightmare you have ever had.”

I pull away, tap her forehead and mutter, “Idiot.”

Chapter 46

Pandora Hart, July 26th

I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. The fan spins slowly, but enough to bring a brisk chill to my exposed skin. My hands inch closer to my inner thighs, and my mouth parts, becoming erratic as they move closer and closer until…

Fire licks up my waist, and the hungry eyes of the elemny grip my legs, forcefully separating them.

I’m out of bed.

Sweat fills my hairline, and an ache that reminds me of pain tingles across my skin. So, I begin my routine. After I shower, I slather lotion on the wrinkled burns, brush and blow-dry my hair until it shines, dress in clothes that invite a summer breeze, and then leave.

I often roam near his room, but today he needs to prepare for the human trafficking function he told me about. So, I head to the deck when Astin appears behind me.

“If he’s not shadowing me, it’s you,” I say.

“Prince Reen wants me to escort you to a few clothing stores. You need to wear something appropriate for tonight,” Astin says.

“Alad bought me⁠—”

“Formal dress for this evening,” Astin corrects himself.

I step aside and gesture to the ramp. “Lead the way.”

Astin has the personality of a black hole. You can throw anything at it; he won’t respond or show emotion. He sucks the life out of conversations. It makes me curious.

“Why do you talk like that?”

We pass the Tumul Entrance and enter the sea of elemny either flying or roaming the streets, listening to music or eating street food. The Kingdom of Cloud reminds me of festivals I always wanted to attend at home.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. His silver eyes scan his surroundings.

“You’re very monotone. Have you always been like that?” I pressure.

“Yes.”