Page 42 of Broken Princess

“He had it coming, Aurora. He deserved to die,” I say with as much reassurance as I can instil in my tone. Then, stifling a chuckle, I add, “But you may owe Nico an apology. You kind of stole his thunder and then left him with the cleanup.”

A brief grin appears at the corners of her lips. It satisfies a part of me deep down that I can make her smile. But there’s another part stirring that wants more from her. I want to make her laugh. But it doesn’t end there. I want to make her moan. I want to watch her shatter for me again, and again, and again.

A low rumble escapes from my throat, and my expression causes a little hitch in her breath. Wetting her lips, she bites down on her plump bottom lip—her eyes veiled, her pupils blown wide. She is stunning, and I’m lost to her. Releasing her throat, I lean down, bringing my lips to the shell of her ear.

“Tell me to stop, Aurora.”

She shakes her head. I reposition myself, pressing my thigh between hers, forcing her legs to part. A shiver moves up my spine as she grinds against me, rolling her hips and squeezing her thighs around mine.

“But I don’t want you to stop, Sin.” Her confession is barely above a whisper and dripping with need.

As soon as the words leave her mouth, I’m done for and I descend on her, stealing a kiss from her eager lips and sealing our fate.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

AURORA

Holy Fuck!

After four years of hell, I feel like I’m in heaven. It’s been so long since I was last touched with any tenderness or true passion. I was by no means a virgin when I married Max, but his cruelty has been my whole world for what felt like an eternity. I’d forgotten the bliss of being lost to someone you want with such intensity.

I can feel my pulse thundering and blood rushing through my veins as his lips clash with mine. Our tongues collide and do battle while my hands fly to his shoulders and pull him closer. He tastes like coffee and his scent is fresh and clean, almost citrusy. The combination is intoxicating, and I lean into the sensation of being conquered.

The anticipation is almost too much to bear, and the way Sin’s hands have tended and caressed every inch of my body has left me desperate for more of his touch. As he grasped my throat—the most gentle of my four protectors, dominating me with not only his words but his presence—everything in me surrendered.

I can feel the subtle undulations of his lean body along me and his breath as it tangles with mine. I’m gasping for air as he pulls back to trail kisses along my jawline. What started as a dull ache as his masterful hands bathed me is now a persistent and insatiable thrumming. I squeeze my legs around his thigh again, trying to slake this need.

“Uh-uh, colibrì. You’re no longer in charge tonight.”

With a tilt of his pelvis, he teases me with the slightest increase in pressure against my core before retreating, forcing a desperate whimper from my lips. Back to straddling my hips, he’s staring down at me, fully aware of the effect he’s having on me as a smirk warms his features before he buries his head back into the crook of my neck, running his nose along my collarbone and inhaling me. It shouldn’t feel as filthy as it does—like he’s about to consume me.

His mouth on my skin feels ravenous, his touch is reverent. It’s nothing like Max’s lascivious torture. Every feathering of Sin’s breath on my skin, erases any memory it holds of past cruelties.

I’m wearing entirely too many clothes right now. I try to move my arms down to the hem of my hoodie, but he bats them away. “What did I say, Aurora?” he asks with a glower.

“Er—”

He tuts at me with mock disapproval and wags a finger at me. Sin takes my wrists and brings them above my head, holding them tenderly but firmly together with one hand. My injuries not hampering my position, the bath having done me the world of good. My pain is less, and my muscles are relaxed. Returning his attention to my neck, he nips and bites, punctuating each one with his words.

“You…” he bites my earlobe, “are not…” his teeth nip at my throat, “in charge. Any pleasure you experience is mine to give you, not yours to take.”

He bites down hard at my pulse point and pulls against my skin, teasing me with his tongue in a way that sends a jolt straight to my clit. It’s not enough to leave a mark, but the pressure is delicious. Little pulses of heat radiate up my neck in ripples, making the hairs on the back of my neck tingle. A soft moan escapes my lips, and I can feel his satisfied smile against my skin.

I strain against his hold, wilfully testing his patience. Not because I don’t want to submit to him—I do. I adore the way his control is making me feel free for the first time in so very long. However, I’m intrigued to know how far he’ll take this role he’s assumed. The idea of surrendering to someone I can trust—with not only my body, but my welfare—is seductive. But that doesn’t mean I’ll make it easy for him.

A hand drifts down my side, a featherlight touch glancing over the swell of my breasts and delving under the hem of the hoodie at my hips. He slides both hands behind me and leans back on his haunches, pulling me up with him. Sin is careful as he relieves me of the hoodie and tosses it aside.

With one hand, he wrenches off his henley.

I wasn’t deceived when he pressed against me earlier. His lean physique is a sight to behold. Broad shoulders that taper into a slim waist and a tantalising happy trail that dips below the waistband of his jeans. He has sharp angles that make it look like someone carved his hips from stone. He observes my blatant appraisal and drops his hand to adjust what looks like a rather impressive and very hard cock.

“I don’t know what makes me harder, seeing you in our clothes, or seeing you out of them.”

I study his eyes as they explore me in return. They are unlike any I’ve ever seen. Brilliant amber, with metallic flecks that subtly contrast each other to catch the light, burning in varying tones of gold and bronze. They’re mesmerising, and when they capture my gaze again, I feel compelled by them. He doesn’t need words to control every movement I make. Leaning into me, I recline back on my elbows and watch as he lowers himself to his hands and knees and prowls backwards.

I pant as he steps back off the end of the bed and reaches forward. Avoiding my injured ankle, he hooks his hands under my knees and pulls me to him. His movements are animal-like. They feel predatory, but at no point do I feel like anything other than a willing sacrifice. Pulling the boxer briefs down my legs and falling to his knees, he spreads me wide for him. I feel exposed, but in the best way.

One of the most worthy men I know is on his knees for me and that realisation takes my breath away. Thinking on the possibilities of everything he could do next holds me hostage, and I can’t help but whine as I feel his breath inching its way up my thigh. It tickles and teases me, skipping back and forth from my thigh to my hip, inching back down, and then finally, he devours me.

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