Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked #2)(107)

“Threaten me again.”

His raw tone indicated he liked it very much. “Twisted heathen.”

“Only the best for you.”

He took possession of my mouth with his. His kiss dominated, owned. I was only too happy to submit. For a moment. I ran my tongue over his bottom lip, sighing as he took advantage and swept his into my mouth. Conquering, seducing. Just as I’d requested.

I pulled him in closer, tighter, nearer. I missed this. Missed him. The way he felt, the sound of his breath catching as he touched me, unleashing his desires and giving in to our connection. His clever fingers cupped my breasts, fondling with maddeningly light caresses that left me desiring more. My gown remained wrapped around my waist. I wanted it off. I wanted his bare skin on mine, his hands free to explore every inch of my body.

I tugged him through the little sitting chamber toward the bedroom, wanting to feel the weight of him pressing me into the mattress. In this, he allowed me to lead, never breaking from his slow exploration of my mouth. He followed me down onto the bed, slowly pulling my gown the rest of the way off. I lifted my hips, helping to shimmy it over them as he tossed it aside.

His jacket and shirt hit the ground next. The only thing left between us were my scandalously thin undergarments and his trousers.

Wrath eyed the ribbons at my sides, looking eager to unwrap the present they offered. And, goddess curse me, I wanted him to tear them to shreds. A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face as he probably sensed my arousal.

He fitted himself between my thighs and bent forward, tugging the ribbons with his teeth. I squirmed beneath him, unsure exactly what it was I wanted him to do next, but knowing his current position was very tantalizing.

He halted his movements. “Is this all right?”

“Yes.” I cupped his face and caressed his cheek. “Please, don’t stop.”

It was the permission he’d been waiting for. Without delay, he finished the task he’d started. Once my undergarments were gone, he admired me for a long moment, his focus searing with its intensity. I fought the urge to close my legs or cover myself.

As if he’d plucked that fear from my head, he glanced at me sharply. “Don’t ever hide yourself from me. Unless you want me to stop, or I’m not pleasuring you the way you like. You are beautiful. And I want nothing more than to do this,” he dragged a finger down the center of my body and I almost saw stars. “With my tongue.”

He gazed deep into my eyes, making sure I saw the truth in his, then he brought his mouth to me. The first stroke of his tongue was a shock of pleasure, electrifying my whole system. I arched up from the bed, body tingling with anticipation of the next touch.

Wrath hooked his arms around my legs and lowered his mouth once more. This time he held me in place, angling my hips up to allow for the most pleasure. Blood rushed through my head. Oh, goddess, every touch was sweet torture. Just when I thought it couldn’t feel any better, he plunged a finger inside me, his mouth moving harder against me.

I writhed beneath him, hands searching for something to grasp, desperate to ground myself in the swirling storm of pleasure lifting me up and away. I gripped the sheets as his openmouthed kisses continued in that intimate place, his fingers pumping in time with each beat of my heart. I was coming undone, chasing that line of fire streaking through me.

My fingers dove into his soft hair, my breath coming in shallow bursts, my pulse pounding through every glorious inch of my body. I was so close.

Wrath’s strokes turned demanding, the demon of war commanding my body to obey his wish and shatter against his mouth. Because he willed it. Desired it.

I rolled my hips forward and he growled in approval, the sound and vibration of it nearly unleashing me. Before I could call out his name, he moved up my body, pressing his own arousal against me, his mouth crashing into mine. He rocked his hips, the force gloriously rough as our bodies slammed together. He withdrew and moved against me again. And again.

I dug my nails into his shoulders and greedily met his movements with my own.

Each thrust pushed me closer to that edge. The hard length of him sliding against me created friction that heightened my pleasure. His cursed trousers were still on, still preventing us from fully connecting, but it did not stop me from finally shattering beneath his massive body.

With a groan so powerful it damn near shook the bed, Wrath followed me over the edge.





THIRTY-TWO


I laid within the circle of Wrath’s arms, my back snug against his chest, as we both caught our breath. He traced the outline of my tattoo with his fingertips, his idle touch stirring a new set of emotions. There was something more intimate about the gentle action than any sexual act or physical expression of love. I wasn’t sure Wrath was fully aware he was doing it. Which complicated things more.

I nestled against him, trying to push my worries aside and enjoy the moment.

He pressed his lips to my temple. “Please refrain from wiggling like that. At least for a few minutes.”

“Is it painful?”

He smiled against my skin. “Quite the contrary.”

Intrigued, and not very good at following commands, I did it again. Wrath’s body hardened against me. Goddess above. His thirst for seduction was unquenchable.

I rolled over to face him. “Take off your pants.”

He arched a brow. I swept an arm to indicate my naked body.