by Shea Malloy
“I’m sorry for upsetting you earlier.” She dragged a toe along the carpet. “I guess I can be too inquisitive sometimes.”
“No need to apologize,” he said, forcing himself to stare at her face and not at the creamy tops of her breasts and the exposed portion of her thighs. “I … overreacted. I am not fond of those memories.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes drifting down to his chest. When she licked her lips, his cock twitched at the action. Thank the gods he’d decided to keep his pants on tonight. She couldn’t see how hard he’d become.
“What do your tattoos mean?” she asked, meeting his gaze, desire evident amid the curiosity in her deep blue eyes.
He moved closer even though a voice in his head told him that was unwise.
“They have many meanings. But this,” he spread a hand over his chest where the tattoo of the phoenix bird resided, “is the most significant. It was designed on my coronation day. It signifies dominance, perseverance, and loyalty.”
“Can I … can I touch it?”
Her voice was soft in the quiet, her words like a gentle finger sliding down his spine, nearly making him shiver. He knew the instant he felt her hands on his flesh, he wouldn’t be able to maintain control, but he also knew he’d long lost the fight to resist her tonight.
“Yes.”
She slid off the bed, her gaze holding his as she approached him slowly. When she stood before him, her gaze dropped to his chest as her hands tentatively reached out to caress him. His breathing deepened when her hands grazed his flesh. She ran a single fingertip over his skin, tracing the tattoos. Then she followed it with a more courageous touch, her hands gliding over his chest, then his abdomen, and his arms. Her touch ignited a fiery trail wherever her hands went, and the quick rise and fall of her chest suggested she was just affected by her actions as he. Mikaal couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t deny himself any longer. He’d resisted taking her for too long and the well of his willpower had been scraped dry.
“This is enough,” he said, his voice gravelly as he reached for her. He pulled her against his body, bending to claim her mouth in a hard, passionate kiss. With a soft whimper, she opened to him readily. He held her head still by fisting his hand in her curly hair and he devoured her mouth, all of his pent up frustration and lust pushed into his kiss. Her hands trapped between their bodies, her fingers curled against his skin, he kissed her hard and her soft moans only encouraged him.
“I want you,” he groaned against her lips.
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