Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals, #1)(84)

He takes my hand, lacing our fingers, and pulls me up. I come closer to his height in my heels, but he still manages to feel… bigger. Infinitely more imposing.

“We’re out,” Caleb says, slapping Eli’s hand. “See you tomorrow.”

We say goodbye to Theo and Liam, too. The latter has found a girl, and he keeps her in his lap as we walk by.

The music is much fainter in the lobby. He hands me my clutch and withdraws a keycard.

Our bags should already be in the room. This morning, Riley and I tossed our overnight bags in Caleb’s trunk. We all figured it was easier to explain it away than have Lenora and Robert ask me a million questions.

The elevator ride is quick, shared with another couple, and Caleb and I keep eyeing each other. Once we’re in the hallway, he takes my hand. We stop in front of a door, which he unlocks, and he quickly scoops me up. I throw my arms around his neck, suppressing a yelp, and he carries me over the threshold.

“Cute,” I say.

He just smiles.

He doesn’t set me down. He walks down the hall and into the room. But it isn’t just a room. It’s a whole freaking suite. There’s a living and dining room, complete with a giant oak table. A door with locks on it on the right, which I assume means it can connect with another suite, and the bedroom and bathroom on the left.

There’s a giant vase filled with flowers on the table.

“Wow.”

He shifts, lifting me higher. “It’s worth it.”

“Bedroom?”

“As you wish.” He strides toward the bedroom and places me on my feet.

I have a second to get my balance before he’s on me, pushing me against the wall. I arch into him as his lips meet mine. He teases me, brushing his lips against mine.

“Remember what I said?” he asks.

“Yes,” I breathe. He’s going to fuck me senseless.

His hands slide up my legs, lifting my dress. Slowly, he drags my panties down. He kneels, keeping a hand on my hip while I step out of them. He grasps one of my ankles and puts it over his shoulder.

God, I’m wet from just thinking about what he’s going to do to me.

“Hold on tight,” he warns, then he leans forward and puts his lips on me. He sucks on my clit, hard.

I buck, trying to get away.

It—it hurts.

My hands grip the skirt of my dress. I wriggle at the feel of his teeth on me, but he just bites my inner thigh.

I moan. The back of my head hits the wall.

He pulls away, groaning, and suddenly I’m in the air. I hold on to his shoulders while he carries me to the bed, tossing me on it and following.

I swallow, moving backward.

“You like it when I hurt you.” He pushes my dress up again. “You’re going to come with my tongue inside you.”

My shoulder blades hit the headboard.

He goes back down on me, his tongue sliding through my folds. My back comes off the bed, pleasure spreading through me. The bite on my thigh pulses. He thrusts his tongue into me.

“You’re wicked,” I whimper.

He trades his tongue for fingers, and his mouth goes back to my clit, biting and sucking.

It doesn’t take long for the sensation to build and build and build.

He thrusts into me with his tongue again, fucking me with his mouth just like he said he would.

I shatter, moaning his name. It’s unbearable.

There’s a gleam in his eye.

He’s not finished.

I collapse back as two fingers slide into me, hitting my G-spot with deadly accuracy. I can’t control my hips, which begin to rock into him. My eyes close, and I lose track of where he is.

That’s my mistake.

He pushes in another finger, spreading me wider, and licks my clit. It’s so fucking slow, every stroke makes me tremble.

“Caleb,” I groan, trying to push his head away. It’s too much. My legs tingle.

“Give it to me,” he growls.

His finger, wet from being inside me, slips back, teasing my asshole. He pushes inside at the same time that he slides his tongue into me.

The sensation is overwhelming. Another orgasm crashes over me, and my legs shake. I keep coming.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, turning my head to the side. He just stuck his finger in my...

He smirks. “You can call me that, if you want.”

“Ass.” I’m panting. I’m pretty sure I can’t move.

“Wasn’t that worth waiting for?”

Who would’ve thought two weeks was a long time to go without sex? And not just sex—any orgasms. My stomach is still bruised, but it doesn’t hurt much anymore. The limited activity order has done wonders.

“Yes,” I manage.

He gets up and hauls me up, too. “Get naked.”

I gulp.

More?

I unbuckle my heels, more than happy to be rid of them, and my dress follows. It puddles on the floor around me. I throw it on the back of the chair.

Caleb comes out of the bathroom.

I go in and pee, then contemplate taking down my hair. It’s a little messy from the dancing and what just happened. Still, it’s not a bad look. I analyze the rest of my body. My stomach’s bruises are yellow and green, with some spots still light purple or red. There’s a bite mark on my breast.

I’ve had Ian’s bite mark on my wrist covered with makeup. The scratches on my arm have healed, except for a few deeper gouges that scabbed over.