by Angel Payne
“Damn, tupulai,” he hissed. “Yes. Deeper. Take me. Open to me. Give it all to me.”
I had no choice but to obey. To offer him every inch of my mouth, and every corner of my heart. It should have terrified me. I should be wondering and worrying about how much this was going to hurt later, when I couldn’t have this anymore—but there was no room for that. No space for anything but the vortex of energy with this incredible man. The unbroken connection to this perfect prince.
Ended all too soon, as he pulled back from me with a gritted curse in Arcadian.
“Wh-what is it?” I finally stammered. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” He actually laughed while dropping to his knees next to me. “Creator’s mercy, Lucina. Not a fucking thing.” He pulled on both sides of my face, holding me still for a hard kiss. “You have me ready to burst. But I—”
He cut himself off with another gruff sound. I ran a hand atop one of his. “But you…what?”
He dipped that hand to the side of my neck. Locked my gaze with his. “I do not want to come in your mouth.” Swallowed hard. “I—I want to—”
“You want to come inside me…somewhere else?”
I smiled a little wider at the confirming look of lust—and terror—on his face. I’d never forget that expression, with his gleaming eyes and gritted teeth, for as long as I lived. Holy shit. The Mediterranean prince with the made-for-sin body really was a virgin. Nasty and Naughty or Virgin in Hiding?
What about both?
I didn’t need four strawberry margaritas to figure out that answer.
“I want that too…Master.”
He gulped again. A huge breath left him. “You do?”
Now I was tempted to laugh. Holy hell, if he only knew how much…
Maybe showing him was simply a better idea.
With our gazes still entwined, I wrapped a hand around one of his wrists. Pulled until he ceded, making sure his fingers brushed the sharp point of my nipple, before pushing his hand beneath my leggings…then between my legs.
From there, the man really knew what to do.
Dear…fuck.
I let it spill out loud, as his long, perfect fingers dipped between my soaked folds, exploring and spreading, sliding and enticing, finally lunging…and finding. I cried out then, ignited by the ecstasy of his touch along my intimate sheath—instantly craving more. More…
“Shiraz!”
He reacted by plunging even deeper. His moan mixed with my own. “Wet,” he uttered, amazement lacing his growl. “Tight. And so perfect…”
“Because of you,” I whispered. “For you.”
He lowered his other hand, using it to push my leggings to my knees. His movements were jerky and fevered, only adding to my heat. I needed him with the same hot urgency, though he seemed to need the knowledge for himself, testing deeper parts of me with harsher thrusts of his finger.
“For me to claim?” he finally demanded.
“Yes.” What his words did to me. How his lust consumed me.
“With my cock?”
“God, yes!”
For a virgin, he was fucking good at this—especially at the whole edging thing, damn him. Three seconds more of that dirty verbal foreplay, along with the thorough finger fucking, and I would have been tumbling into one of the best climaxes of my existence—but the bastard withdrew, rising on his haunches, though keeping me riveted to him with a stare belonging more on a medieval gladiator.
Or a master about to shackle his slave.
“Then take these off.” He yanked at one ankle of my leggings. Let it snap back before stripping his shirt in one sweep, and nearly making me swallow my tongue. Baby Jesus in a play mobile, the man was really like something out of a movie. Thor, Wolverine, and all 1800 abdominal ridges of The 300 weren’t enough comparison for his defined, muscled glory, especially with a torso punctuated by that long, perfect cock—
And given to a man who knew exactly how I liked my foreplay.
Erotic. Explicit.
“Lucina?” He stressed the bark with both raised brows. “The leggings?”
“Right,” I managed. “Sorry, I—”
“No explanations.” The sleek surety was back in every note of his voice, every inch of his actions. “Just actions. I want you nude and spread, Lucina. Now.”
Thank God I only had two inches of the leggings left by that point. By the time I’d recovered enough to murmur a fast, “Yes, Master”, all I had to do was lay down, shivering a little from the travertine tile against my bare back, and part my legs for him.
Opening myself to him…
Freeing myself for him…
Burning for the exact stare he raked over my nudity, as he stretched one hand over the length of his own.
“Holy fuck,” he rasped, and I nearly echoed the words. Had he just manifested a condom from thin air? A glance to the open nightstand drawer answered my silent question—how a tiny island Palais stocked shit like that in guest rooms was beyond my understanding—and chose to simply be grateful for it. I’d started birth control pills for the first time in my life when Ryan asked me to, but tossed them in rebellion when things went sideways. On a kinkier note, it was a definite panty-soaker to watch a demigod squeeze his balls, just to withhold coming just from the sight of one’s spread crotch—if there were any panties on hand to drench.
Snark wasn’t going to get me out of that larger point.
That all my juices had nowhere to go but out—fully exposed to his searing gaze. That with tears still tracking my face, I had nowhere to hide from this man—nothing to do but accept him into my arms as he shifted, angling himself over me…
Then surging into me.
Groaning as I gasped.
Shuddering as I sighed.
Plunging his tongue down my throat as he drove his body deep inside mine. Moaning again, harder and longer, as he held himself there, locking his hips to still us both as he grew, pushing at my walls, filling all my corners.
Joining himself to me…as no man ever had.
And yeah, I was going to get Biblical again. But never had flesh of my flesh had more effortless, flawless meaning—or been more significant in the depths of my heart and soul. Denying it wasn’t an option. Trivializing him was no longer an option. I realized it as soon as he pulled up enough to gaze at me, now moving with slow, steady purpose inside me. With hands cupped at my temples, brushing back the hair from my face, his gaze swept over me, alive and alight, looking as if he’d just been given the secret of the damn cosmos.
Before I could gulp it back, a new burn attacked the backs of my eyes. I dug fingers into his back, hanging on as the emotion washed over me. Even more seeped out with every new lunge of his cock, and I no longer cared. I wanted him to see—to understand that this meant as much to me as him.
And he did see.
And he did get it.
Beyond how I even hoped he would.
An understanding he not only grasped, but acted on—when his hands delved back, tangling in my hair, then pulling the strands taut. Hard. Until I shrieked from it—right before clenching my sex tighter around him for it.
Yes.
Please.
Yes.
He yanked more ruthlessly. Another scream escaped, as my head jacked backward. He dug his teeth into the column of my neck. I clawed my nails into the column of his spine.
“Hot…sweet…woman,” he husked against my ear.
I could only whisper two words in return. “My Master.”
He bit into the shell beneath my three pierced studs. “I want to rip you apart.”
Ragged sigh. Grabbing his ass. Forcing him deeper. “Do it.”
His cock expanded. His hips strained. “Going to…fuck you…”
“Yes.”
“Deep…”
“Yes!”
“Hard.”
“Yes, yessssss…”
I was lost.
To his brutal thrusts. To my answering screams. To the gasp
s replacing them when he shifted his hold to my waist, in order to ram my body harder down on his stalk. My torso lifted, my hair rasping along the floor, as he pounded me like a machine on high gear, a beast beyond control—a prince fucking his concubine.
For those few perfect minutes, it was all I had to be.
His body for the using. His pussy for the conquering. His woman for the possessing. Filled with all the pain—and pleasure—he had to give.
I surrendered to the fantasy, riding the erotic, frenetic wave through every heated lunge of his cock and every filthy Arcadian word he growled, until he shocked me in another sweep of sudden movement. I was on my back again, my legs lifted and wrapped around his waist, as Shiraz loomed directly over me once more. One of his hands smacked down to the floor next to my head. The other he clamped around my jaw again—the front part now, holding my head rigidly in place.
“Show it to me,” he ordered, his teeth barely parting for the words. “You will come, tupulai—and you will show it to me!”
A breath. A shiver. A moment’s worth of wondering how he knew that was all I needed, before abandoning even that—
To give him exactly what he commanded.
To let my body give in and my senses implode.
To let the fire of sweet, hot oblivion sweep in, devouring me. And just letting it, no longer holding back the deep, perfect pulses that torched everything between my legs—before gripping him, milking him, enflaming him—
To give me the same.
His hand slipped away as his entire body clutched, coiled in masculine magnificence, ripping his climax through every striation of his muscles, and finally into his harsh bellow.
“By the—fucking—Creator!”
His orgasm was so full and hot, I wondered if the condom would hold. I had to pray the Arcadians bought their sexual supplies like their patio furniture, by going for the best. The wish intensified as, unbelievably, Shiraz’s orgasm did. With another groan, he powered into a second release, his body shaking from the effort. Silent with amazement, I clutched him close, letting the passion work its way completely through him, before slackening my grip.
“No.”
His quiet dictate made me jolt a little.
“Do not let go,” he clarified, burrowing his face to the crook of my neck. “Not yet.”
More astonishment—though it was the best kind, as I circled my arms around him once more. Treasured the feel of him against me, his warmth still permeating me. Listened intently as our heartbeats evened out together.
So soon, too soon, the respite was over. He slipped out of me, resting on his heels while peeling the latex from his cock. I scooted up too, shoulders hunching as my brain hurried to throw a force field over my heart.
Why did it feel like trying to put on a dress three sizes too small?
Get over it.
I knew this drill, dammit. Forward, backward, and from half a dozen different other angles. After the jollies got had, the feels got ditched. Granted, I’d gotten a little bonus time due to the honor of being the royal cherry popper, but no way in hell did I think—or could I think—that earned me extra court time from a man about to sign another woman in the fiancée first draft.
It was time to take my ball and go home.
On my own terms.
With at least a little of my dignity intact.
The man would allow me at least that much, especially since I’d turned into a weepy mess on him. No guy alive wanted more time with a woman who’d gone sappy on him, especially during the hot-and-naked part of the night’s fun. And maybe that had happened for the best too. Gave us both an excuse to declare our hornies officially satisfied for each other, and now move the hell on.
There was only one flaw to that thinking.
A pretty huge one.
I was even more horny for Shiraz Cimarron now than I had been an hour ago.
And…shit.
It looked like he couldn’t be more a fan of that thinking, as he returned from tossing the condom, his half-hard erection already leading the way. This time, though, he headed straight for the bed—but turned when he got there, looking expectantly back at me.
“You want to come over here on your own, or shall I order you to it, sweetheart?”
Chapter Seventeen
‡
As enticed as I was to see if he’d really do it—and what fun activities he’d add to the decree—I decided not to tempt fate in that moment. God only knew when I’d need to call in on that favor later, especially with the way he waited for me beneath the covers, head leaning on the tripod of his raised hand and bent elbow.
Donning the demure—since he likely wasn’t going to let me wear much else—I slid in, settled my head against the pillows, and dutifully closed my eyes.
Who the hell was I kidding? Duty had nothing to do it. Nerves had everything to do with it. We’d “been together” twice now, with tiffs as the ice breaker. I racked my brain for a reason to start another. Locking horns with him meant I could focus on—well, his horns—and not other things.
Like…nearly everything.
His carved shoulders. His elegant fingers. His intense energy. Everything about him that was much too close now. Much too naked now. Much too ready for me now. Yeah, I’d stolen a tiny glance as I’d gotten in—at the arousal that wasn’t “tiny” at all. What was I supposed to do with that, other than the obvious? Come on. Wouldn’t any other female think the same thing?
Thoughts receiving no help at containment, as the rogue let out a savoring growl—while grabbing me by the waist and rolling me nearly atop him. I pushed back, only to be ordered back into place with a sharp smack on my left ass cheek.
“Ow!” But dammit if the protest didn’t spill out more as a moan—an encouraging one at that.
As my cheeks blazed, Shiraz chuckled. “My little piece of trouble. You shall stay right where you are, hmm?”
Snort. “If I’m the little piece of trouble, you’re the big piece of—ow!”
At least my bottom would be a nice matched set of pink. His slow smile indicated the same conclusion.
“You are most welcome,” he murmured.
“I didn’t say—”
“Your eyes did.” He’d continued to cup my right cheek. Gave it a firm squeeze while finishing, “But you can say it with your lips as well. Use Arcadian, if you please. Merderim, my Master rolls out beautifully, yes?”
I rolled my eyes. Because no way did he get to see the hundred ways that turned me to fresh goo. “Oh my God.”
“Do you not mean, ‘Oh my Master’?”
“Oh my God.” I openly laughed. Loud and hard. Not only did the release feel damn good but it was reassuring to watch his lips quirk, joining in a little, proving he didn’t take himself that seriously—which of course, melted me for him more.
Made me want to give him a sweet surprise in return…
So I put melty into action. Softened in his arms, letting my body contour along his. My breasts cushioned along his ribs. My thigh slid into his crotch. The answering jerk of his cock ensured the melty made its way to my voice as well.
“Merderim, my Master.”
His rumble was like smoke, curling through us both. “Fuck.” His free hand, raising to my hair, was like the matching blaze. “My little tupulai.”
Then his kiss…
Forest fire.
Wild, rampant, invading, pervading. Such a sudden, furious flare, it stole every breath I had, every rational thought of survival…and I didn’t care. Not one damn bit.
Trouble.
Until now, it had been a cute joke.
Only now, my heart wasn’t.
I was officially in it with this man. Deep and hot and intense, like the scary lightning hell realm from Raiders of the Lost Ark, only I was on the wrong side this time. I was one of the cocky scientists who’d thought I could play with fate and get away with it.
Fine. If I was a bad guy, then might as well commit myself to the cause.
> Bad could be fun.
And addicting.
And wonderful.
They were the last thoughts I let myself acknowledge, before opening for his ravaging tongue. Moaning encouragement for his hurting grip. Plunging full-on into the fire of his assault. Long minutes later, when we finally had to drag apart for air, I clung to numb lust, letting my gaze fill with his dark, sculpted beauty.
Shiraz lifted a lopsided smile, teeth gleaming against his bronze skin. He drifted his hand from my hair to my shoulder and left it there, tracing circles to my skin with enough force to communicate a silent message. I was to stay put. Not that he’d get any protest now.
“Ssshh, tupulai.” He snickered when I shot back a Scooby Doo-like hhnnnh. “I can hear you thinking,” he clarified.
“News to me.” Snort. “I was doing my best not to think.”
“Probably why I heard you.”
I matched his lazy strokes on my arm by exploring the amazing contours of his chest. Damn. Even the dip in his sternum was sexy as fuck. I loved exploring the oval discs of his nipples too—but most fascinating of all were the intricate lines of his tattoos.
“These are incredible,” I finally murmured.
He released a soft hum. “I am glad they are pleasurable to you.”
I indulged a secret smile. Pleasurable was probably an understatement, but his formal phrasing made me feel as treasured as a true princess.
“Did you have them done here, on Arcadia?”
“No,” he answered. “In Helsinki. During my university years.”
When Ambyr went to visit him a lot…
Not a subject I wanted to go diving into right now. The woman was going to have the rest of her life with him. I had this tiny bubble, and I was going to hog it with questions I wanted answered.
“Did you attend college in Europe because Evrest did?”
He tossed down a what-the-hell glance. “Point for your end of the mat. I did not guess you were thinking that.”
I flattened a hand over his inked eagle then rested my chin atop that. “Just trying to figure out why you don’t feel like you measure up—to him or Samsyn.”
