Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(21)

He grinned again. “Oh, highness. I’m just getting started.”

He leaned forward as though he were going to kiss me again, but this time he aimed lower, and his lips landed on my neck. I tilted my head to the side to give him better access, even as his hands crept up and started working at the silver crown-of-shards clasp on the front of my cloak. The garment drifted down to the floor, pooling at our feet.

Sullivan drew back, then leaned forward and kissed the other side of my neck. This time, his fingers worked on the laces on the front of my tunic, quickly loosening them. I lifted my arms so that he could draw the garment up and over my head, along with the soft, thin camisole underneath. He tossed them both aside, then snaked his arm around my waist, turning me around so that his chest was pressed against my back. Even through his tunic, the delicious heat of his body sank into my own bare skin.

Sullivan kissed my neck again, while his hands slid up my stomach and cupped my breasts. He gently squeezed them, then rolled the nipples between his fingers. That heat in my stomach spread through the rest of my body, and I sighed and arched back against him.

“If you like that, highness, then you’re going to love this next bit,” he rasped.

“I know I will,” I murmured, lifting my hand to stroke the side of his face.

His hands left my breasts and slid lower. This time, he worked on the laces on the front of my leggings, undoing them as quickly and skillfully as he had the ones on my tunic.

His hand slid inside my leggings and then down below my silken undergarments. I turned my head to the side so that I could look up at him. Sullivan stared back at me, another wicked grin on his face. Then he leaned forward and kissed me again, flicking his tongue against mine, even as he cupped my warm, wet heat.

I hissed at how good it felt.

Sullivan rubbed his fingers back and forth, caressing that most intimate part of me. That warm desire in my veins burned brighter and hotter, turning into sharp, throbbing need.

“Sully,” I rasped, urging him on. “Sully.”

He kissed my neck again, his tongue skipping over the frantic, pounding pulse in my throat. I drew in a breath, but all I could see, feel, taste, smell was him. With every slide and glide of his fingers, Sullivan teased me a little higher until finally that sharp, throbbing need exploded into a tidal wave of pleasure. I cried out and sagged back against his body. He wrapped his arm around my waist again and pressed a kiss to the top of my shoulder.

“Like I said, highness,” he whispered against my skin. “All you had to do was ask.”

I shivered, then turned around so that we were face-to-face. I smiled and leaned forward, as though I were going to kiss him, but at the last moment, I gave him a peck on the nose instead.

Sullivan raised his eyebrows. “Using my own trick against me? That’s not fair.”

“Who said anything about fair?” I grinned. “Especially when we both know that it’s more fun not to play fair.”

I leaned forward again, kissing his neck, just like he had done mine. This time, my fingers went to work on the laces of his clothes. Sullivan lifted his arms, and I drew his tunic up and over his head, tossing it aside. I stopped to admire his bare muscled chest, then skimmed my fingers over the faint scars that cut across his skin, slowly working my way lower and lower. I undid the laces on his leggings, then we both stepped out of our boots, peeled off our socks, and shimmied out of our remaining garments.

When there were no more barriers between us, I stepped close to him again. Sullivan’s hands fisted by his sides, but he didn’t reach for me. Not yet. We stood there, staring into each other’s eyes, both of us breathing hard, anticipating what was coming next.

I had thought to play a slow, teasing game just as he’d done with me, but I wanted him too badly to wait any longer, so I tangled my hand in his hair and drew his lips down to mine. Sullivan growled and started to pull me closer, but I put my other hand on his shoulder and stepped forward. I walked Sullivan all the way over to the bed in the back of the room. His legs hit the edge of the mattress, and he fell back onto the soft blankets.

Sullivan propped himself up on his elbows, while I looked him over from head to toe. His rumpled brown hair. The stubble on his chin. His bare muscled chest. The hard length of him just waiting to be claimed.

“I pictured you like this so many times,” I confessed in a low, husky voice. “Here. In my bed. With me.”

He held out his hand. “Then come and have me, highness.”

I threaded my fingers through his, and he pulled me down onto the bed with him. I took all the proper herbs and precautions, as did he, so there was no worry between us, only desire.

We kissed, our lips and tongues crashing together time and time again, even as our hands slid over each other’s body, kneading, caressing, and bringing as much pleasure to the other as possible.

I rolled Sullivan onto his back, then straddled him. My hand closed over his long, hard cock, and I stroked him the same way he had me. Sullivan arched back, his hands fisting in the blankets. But he was just as impatient as I was, and he reached for me again. I leaned forward, and he pulled me down on top of him, thrusting into me at the same time.

We both moaned. I kissed him again, driving my tongue into his mouth, while his hands roamed up and down my back. Then I rose and started rocking my hips, taking him a little deeper inside with every quick slide.

Sullivan anchored his hands on my hips, urging me on, and I rocked harder, faster, moving in exquisite pleasure with him until we both finally cried out and reached our release together.