Page 76 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

“Soon you’ll be too busy making other noises,” he says, and my heart tightens inside my chest.

“Is that a promise?” I whisper back at him, but he doesn’t reply. Instead, he sits up, shifting me back so I’m straddling his cock hardening through his pants. He pushes my dress up, exposing my thighs, running his hands up to my hips. His touch makes my skin burn, each cell coming alive at once.

"It’s a certainty,” he finally says, making my stomach tighten as he runs his palm across it, thumb dipping teasingly beneath my navel. “I expect panting…” He licks his lips. “Some moaning…” He guides me back on my heels a few inches by pressing gently at my hips, then slides a hand underneath me, tracing the soft folds of skin, stroking through the thin fabric of my undergarments. I don’t hold back my sounds of enjoyment.

“And of course I expect some screaming of my name,” he finishes casually, like we’re discussing the weather. He’s in control, playing me as if I were an instrument, and he knows it.

“Ruskin,” I moan, drawing it out as I lean into his touch, finding the wonderful balance of pressure. His palm cups me, curling a finger to caress the flesh swelling with desire. My eyes roll back in their orbits, and a pleasant tingling sensation spreads out from between my legs to the rest of my body.

“Not really a scream,” he teases, “but it’ll do for now.”

He sounds so aggravatingly pleased with himself that I have to return the favor, running my hands over the bulge in his pants, gently squeezing and feeling my own pulse of satisfaction at his answering gasp. Two can plays this game, after all. But the fabric just annoys me. I want to feel him, and I focus on pulling them open, freeing his cock, which immediately stands ready and waiting.

I pause for a moment, gently curling my fingers around his hard length, and I look into his eyes. His lips curl up into a dangerous smile and—somehow—his cock becomes even harder than before. Sweet mercy, could he be even more irresistible?

My memory hardly does justice to his hard member, and when I lean forward to place my mouth on it, it feels even bigger than it looks. I kiss the tip, then slide my tongue down across its length. This time, I’m patient with it, allowing my tongue to dance over his flesh at leisure.

Ruskin responds by growling with appreciation, and he seems to be barely holding himself back from thrusting upwards. I happily take more of him into my mouth, enjoying the noises of ecstasy I’m eliciting. The scent of him is different here, filling my nostrils with a masculine, almost animal musk that makes me slick with want.

As I suck, Ruskin somehow makes my underwear disappear—I suspect by ripping the poor things apart—and he swiftly slides a finger into me, followed by a second, and a third. I bear down on them with a hum of pleasure, the vibrations of my throat making Ruskin’s aborted thrusts take on a new urgency.

I swirl my tongue over the head of him, taking in the salty taste, enjoying how each part of me, every sense, is filled with him. I could happily stay right here forever, but I know what the pressure of his large fingers stretching inside me is preparing me for, and I don’t want to wait any longer.

I’ve waited long enough.

I pull up, delicately wiping my mouth in a move that seems to drive Ruskin wild, if the twitch of his cock is anything to go by. I tug off the rest of my dress, not wanting it to get in the way, and Ruskin takes the hint, removing the last of his clothes too. The sight of his naked body is enough to crush whatever thread of rational thought I still had in me. Wild lust dances inside me and, like a wheel of fire, consumes everything in its wake. I try not to look like I’m rushing, but the ache between my legs is almost unbearable, and once I’m fully naked, I don’t waste time before climbing back on top of him.

I hold his gaze as I position myself over him, and time comes to a halt. For a moment, nothing matters but the frantic beating of my own heart. Or the way his fingers dig into my hips. Like a sliver of moonlight, I hold onto the moment until it finally slips away.

And then I surrender fully.

I can’t keep from closing my eyes with the intensity of the sensation as I lower myself onto his cock, slowly impaling myself. I arch my back as my muscles tense for a moment, adjusting, then relax into the tightness of the fit.

He stays perfectly still, letting me get comfortable. When I meet his gaze, I feel almost drunk on the intensity of the moment. So much power lies beneath me, so much strength pulled taut and ready to spring, and yet he restrains himself—for me. This is what I’ve missed as much as the raw edge of his desire for me: the way he cherishes my pleasure and comfort. He treats those like they are treasures to be won even more than my body, more than any gratification I can give him. Stars, I love him, and even if I can’t say it with words right now, I can show him.

I start to move, undulating my hips to grind against him, and an unexpected jolt has me realizing that this position puts him so much deeper, so that even the slightest movement presses him against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside me. He tilts his hips up ever so slightly, burying himself deeper inside me, and a croak of pleasure escapes from between my lips. I lean forward, my hair caressing my naked shoulders, and I speed up, laying my hands on his chest for better purchase as I rise and fall. He runs a hand across my cheek, stroking back the hair that’s tumbled across my face so he can meet my gaze.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs and even naked, riding him, I feel a blush climb to my cheeks. The sight seems to please him, as he takes hold of my hips, guiding the way I move against him. I gasp in surprise when his hands grab me firmly enough to lift me, sliding me almost completely free of his cock, only to plunge me back down on top of it. The sensation of being suddenly emptied and filled hits me over and over, pulling a frantic cry from me.

I throw my head back and grit my teeth, pain and pleasure swirling inside me. Am I screaming? Moaning? All I know is that I’m burning from the inside out, flames of wicked pleasure lapping at every fiber of my being.

“Ruskin,” I finally say, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears, “I’m close…”

In a whirl of limbs, I’m suddenly on my back against the scattered floor cushions. Their soft fabric caresses my skin, silky and welcoming, and I turn my face into them, enjoying the way the satin touch makes my skin feel even more alive. Ruskin positions himself above me, presenting his index and middle finger. I look at him questioningly.

“Be a good girl and suck,” he says, his tone brooking no argument. He knows what he wants, and he knows how to get it… and I love him for it. I obey, taking his fingers in my mouth and running my tongue over them. It feels intimate, revealing a layer of vulnerability I didn’t know was there, and it just makes me want him more.

Once they’re fully wet, he runs his fingers down in a straight line—from my jaw to the valley between my breasts, and then further down—and only stops when they meets my aching wetness. With a lustful grin, he strokes the fingers over my clitoris, their slickness sparking waves of pleasure that make my toes curl with pleasure. He listens carefully to my signals, the tenor and volume of my whimpers as he increases pressure ever so slightly, tracing his fingers in confident circles, teasing until it feels as if bolts of lightning are radiating from that single sensitive point.

“I meant it…” I gasp warningly, as I jerk my hips up against his swirling fingers. “I’m close.”

He simply smirks, like I’ve played right into his hands. I feel him, still hard as a rock, positioning himself against my opening, and then he thrusts back inside. This is so familiar now, the heat of his body covering mine, the hardness of his muscles against my soft curves. It reminds me of that time after he’d told me his true name, when we made love for the first time like partners—exploring each other’s bodies instead of treating the other like land to be conquered. The joy I’d felt then, the blissful freedom and safety, comes flooding back to me now.

It's almost too much.

I reach up for his face, bringing it down to mine and putting all that feeling into a kiss. I want him to know that this is more than just sex. I want him to know that I remember what it was like—us together, alive in each other’s hearts, before everything else got in the way. When we pull apart, his gaze is slightly glassy, like I’ve taken him somewhere far away.

“Finish me,” I breathe out, tracing his lips with my thumb. The order seems to bring him back to himself and he grins.

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