Page 349 of Reign

A slow, dark smile curves his lips. “I’ll give you what you want when I’ve had my fill.” His hands tighten under my thighs, spreading me wider. “Again, Elena.”

I tip the bottle.

Whiskey spills in a messy stream down my stomach. He catches it against the soft skin above my pussy, greedily licking up every drop before sealing his mouth over my clit. The pressure turns devastating, and my legs start trembling against his shoulders.

I’m so close it hurts.

He looks up at me, eyes locked on mine like watching me fall apart is the only thing that matters. The sight of him between my thighs makes the pleasure spike so hard I can’t hold the bottle anymore. It slips from my fingers and hits the chaise with a dull thud.

I come with a broken cry, hips jerking against his mouth. He doesn’t stop. He only slows, using softer, longer strokes of his tongue through every pulse of my orgasm. When the sharp edge finally fades, he stays right there, my legs still draped over his shoulders, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to my inner thighs… then higher… then gently, almost reverently, against my oversensitive clit.

I’m shaking. Watching him.

Luciano looks up from between my legs, darken eyes soft and utterly possessive.

“I could stay here for the rest of my life.”

A weak, breathless chuckle escapes me. “Please don’t. I need you now.”

Luciano lowers my legs from his shoulders, then kisses his way up my body, tasting the whiskey still on my skin until he reaches my mouth.

His lips brush mine, soft and sure. “Okay.”

He kisses me again, deeper this time.

“Okay, princesa.” His voice is low, rough with restraint. “Now I’ll give you what you want.”

Chapter 50

Luciano

Islip out of bed without waking Elena.

She makes a quiet sound when the mattress shifts and reaches toward the space I leave behind, her hand searching across the sheets before settling against my pillow.

I stand beside the bed longer than necessary.

She loves me.

The words have not become less satisfying with repetition.

I resist the urge to wake her and ask her to say them again.

Instead, I pull the blanket higher over her shoulder and leave her sleeping while I finish preparing everything for the beach.

The house is already awake.

Breakfast has been packed. Towels, water, fruit, and everything else Elena may decide she desperately needs once we arrive are waiting near the front entrance.

When I return, I arrange her clothes across the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed.

A purple bikini.

A loose white cover-up.

Sandals, sunscreen, and a wide-brimmed hat she will insist she doesn’t need before complaining that the sun is in her eyes.

Elena remains buried beneath the blankets.