Page 65 of Twisted Royals

A new warmth basked over me as he stroked the side of my face.

“Would you like another? I want to make sure you’re well-satisfied.” He flashed me a devilish grin that had warmth shooting all the way down to my brand-new toes. But before I could offer any sort of answer, he was moving down the bed again.

I missed looking at him, but before I had much time to ruminate on it, I felt his fingers sliding inside my pussy. I felt it respond to his touch, quite apart from me. I could feel my lips clenching against his fingers, squeezing them as though to keep him trapped there forever.

He thrust them inside me, making my breath hitch. They withdrew, then plunged inside once more with more force than before.

What is he… how can he do this to me? Make me feel as though my heart will beat so fast, it will burst? The Sea Witch needn’t worry about my completing the challenge, he’ll kill me here and now with nothing more than his fingers!

But I would die happy. I felt sure of that much.

They climbed inside me, deeper, harder, until I felt that familiar flying sensation. It lasted longer this time—I soared and dipped, pivoted and climbed higher still with his magical fingers inside. When I crashed back to earth this time, I felt the wetness of tears on my face. It was… beautiful. Wonderful. More magical than I’d ever known any single thing could be.

“Why did you cry?” He didn’t wait for an answer before bending his head and tasting the wetness. He smiled warmly at me, increasing the warmth I felt burning in my chest. Then his fingers grazed my sore, swollen pussy lips once more. They plunged inside me, and when he pulled them out, he brought them before my eyes.

They gleamed with the juices that must have been inside of me. He grinned that wicked grin again that made my heart pound in excited anticipation.

“Your turn.”

And when he held them before my lips, I obediently tasted. And then, one by one, I licked his fingers clean.

Damian

I hardly slept last night. I’d had to leave my red-headed wench, and even though we’d only been parted for a little while, I’d thought of nothing else. I’d thought having a bit of fun with her would be the cure—it often was where I was concerned. But if anything, tasting her had only made her fill my thoughts all the more.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. She was beautiful, but I never wasted my time on anyone who wasn’t. She had a unique beauty, that was true. Her soft, wavy hair looked like it had been crafted from burning logs. Was that it? The reason she excited me?

No. I dismissed the thought, and not for the first time. It was more than that. Her green eyes, then? Her pale, porcelain complexion? No. Those things were far less common, although combined with the hair, they made a combination that was damn near unforgettable.

I sighed and set my chin on my hand. It was hell, having a woman consume your thoughts. My father had always warned me this day would come; it was a thing he’d said often since the day I turned sixteen. And though I’d had many women since then, I’d never been so taken with one that I could focus on nothing else.

Without being entirely aware of it, I’d done more than have fun. I’d been wondering if I could scare her off. My unusual thirst to own a woman completely had scared off more than one potential suitor, but my waif didn’t seem to mind. She’d let me taste her and had seemed to enjoy it as much as I did.

“What say you, Prince Damian?”

I jarred to attention and blinked at my father, who was waiting expectantly. “Ah… forgive me. Would you mind terribly repeating the question?”

My father looked ruffled by my request. “War, Son! We’re talking war! I did not expect this conversation to bore you.”

Suddenly, I became aware of the room full of political leaders and foreign emissaries sitting all around me. I’ve got to get this damn woman out of my mind! She’s bewitched me at a most unfortunate time!

“Yes, of course,” I answered, the picture of princely politeness. “My loyalty remains with the crown, as always.”

“Very well put,” my father remarked dryly. “Perhaps we should adjourn early today, Sirs.”

“But, Your Majesty?—”

“We will all sleep on what we’ve discussed and resume tomorrow.” He cut off the protests.

The sound of scraping chairs filled the room, and though I caught sight of terse expressions, no one said a word and the door was closed behind the last departing emissary, leaving us quite alone.

I was unsurprised when my father turned to me.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Your Lordship?”

Oh, damn it all to hell. Father only spoke that way when he was well and truly irked. “Forgive me, Father. My thoughts seem to have wandered.”

He snorted. “Clearly. What I want to know is why? Or rather, who is the source of them?”

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