The King's Spinster Bride, (Royal Wedding #1)(20)

“I see. It is…very different than Yshremi weddings.” She does not meet my eyes.

I can imagine that it is. The Yshremi are a scholarly people who love farming and books. I imagine most of my people’s customs are very foreign to them. “Then I feel sorry for Yshremi women.”

Halla looks up and gives me a shocked glance.

“Shall you bind my hands behind my back?” I state boldly, crossing my wrists in front of her. “Or will you allow me to touch you on this evening?”

“I…what exactly is involved?” My sweet bride looks utterly flustered. “I don’t…I mean…” She wrings her hands. “When I was prepared for the marriage bed, I was told about treaties and kingdoms and how not to cede my power to my husband in an argument. Not much was said about the marriage bed itself other than I should be patient with my husband’s attentions and not interrupt.”

Not interrupt? What a strange thing to teach a woman. But then again, the Yshremi treat their daughters very different than Cyclopae do. “You can interrupt me as much as you want if I do something you don’t like.”

“Very well.” Halla looks gravely earnest.

I caress her cheek and then gesture at the bed. “Let us sit down, then.” When she nods, I guide her over to the edge of the bed and sit, and she sits across from me. I’d hoped she would sit in my lap, but I can be patient. She’s clearly rattled.

I caress her cheek as she watches me. Her gaze flicks to Pen and Ishera. “Those are the chaperones? They’re staying, then?” Her voice is hushed, as if she doesn’t want them to overhear her.

I nod. “It’s to ensure you aren’t pressured or uncomfortable should you change your mind halfway through. Some of our warriors have been known to be overly enthusiastic in the past and ended up with a knife in their gut.” I shrug. “I think they just did not use their tongues correctly—”

Her hand claps over my mouth, her expression scandalized. “We shouldn’t talk about such things.”

We shouldn’t? Perhaps she’d just rather I show her, instead. I move her hand from my mouth. “Shall I start with a kiss?” I press my lips against her palm. After all, nothing says I cannot start with kisses before I move between her thighs. It’s all about giving her pleasure, and I know she likes kissing.

Halla’s expression goes soft, her gaze on my mouth as I nibble at her tender skin. Her hands are soft, but there are hints of fading calluses that remind me that she lived a meager life in Riekki’s temple for the last sixteen years, and I am filled with frustration. She has always tried to do the right thing, Halla. I remember that fateful day well. Instead of letting others murder me, even after she heard of her father’s death at my father’s hands, she protected me, cared for me. She made sure I was safe and returned to my father unharmed. She ordered her Yshremi warriors to stand down, because she did not want anyone else to die. And she gave up her crown so she would save lives. It seems unfair that she should then be punished with sixteen years of solitude. I know Riekki’s peacekeepers. They are a pious order that loves nothing more than hard work and silence.

I think of the poetry book, hidden under the guise of a book of prayers, and cannot help but grin to myself. Even in such a holy place, she dreamed of something more. I plan on giving it to her. “I have always loved you,” I tell her as I push her sleeve up and kiss her wrist. “Ever since I was a small boy, I told everyone who would listen that I would marry Princess Halla of Yshrem. That there was no one as beautiful and kind as her. No one as glorious.” With each word, I press my mouth against her skin, traveling up her arm.

“I wonder how your father felt about such devotion,” she says, and her voice is breathless and sweet, her gaze fixed on my mouth so intently.

“He disagreed,” I say, and lean in to kiss the crook of her elbow. “But he is dead and I am now king, and I do what I want.”

She shivers, and I don’t know if it’s from my mouth or my words. It doesn’t matter. Nothing will change my mind. Halla is and always will be mine from this point forward.

When I can press her sleeve no higher, I nibble my way back down her arm and then give her hand one final kiss. I gaze up at her and she watches me with heavy-lidded eyes, her lips parted. She looks so ready for my cock that there is a deep, intense ache in my groin.

I slide an arm around her waist and pull her close, until her breasts are pressed up against my chest. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t protest. Instead, her hand slides up to my nape and she touches my hair, curling her fingers in it.

And waits. She’s so beautiful as she looks up at me with breathless anticipation.

I lower my mouth to hers, and her lips part under mine. The kiss is just as good this time as I remembered, and I stroke my tongue into the sweet heat of her mouth. I love the little moan that escapes her, and the way she clings to me as I deepen the kiss, using my tongue as I want to use my cock, claiming her with every possessive stroke. Our lips meld over and over, until I forget all about who else is in the room. There’s no one that exists outside of the gorgeous princess in my arms. She shifts against me and I hitch her closer, until she’s practically in my lap, and her thigh is pressing up against my cock in an almost-painful reminder of just how very hard she makes me. Panting, I release her mouth from mine with a last reluctant nip, because I could spend all night kissing her, lost in her lips.