Page 61 of Princess Avenged

“Flame, I…I…” Closing my eyes, I fight the whiplash from my assumptions. What Flame just said. What I think he said, goes so far beyond my wildest hopes. I can’t catch up.

“It’s okay.” His hold on my head softens, and his hands drop softly to my shoulders. “I know that you love both Phil and Blade. And I get that everything’s upside down right now.” He swallows hard. “All I hope to hear is that I can stay a part of your life.” His voice sounds desperate. “That you’ll allow me to continue to worship you because, unless you forbid it, I plan to worship you, every minute of every day of my life.”

“Oh, Flame, I… Yes. Of course.” I want to tell him that I love him too, but he catches my mouth in a kiss, encapsulating my head again in his palms as he ravishes my lips, stealing my breath and my desire to speak.

What Flame said was so perfect, and I don’t want to blurt out something inane or generic like, ‘I love you too.’ That wouldn’t begin to mirror how Flame expressed himself to me, or to show the magnitude of my feelings, which are becoming very clear.

There will be time to tell Flame how I feel later. A time when I have full use of my brain, not to mention my mouth. Right now, Flame owns my lips, my tongue, my teeth. He owns my entire body.

One of his strong arms lifts me to straddle him as he sits, and the other continues to cradle my head. The only thing that could make me happier than I feel right now, would be feeling Phil’s arms around me like this again, but I trust that we’ll discover a solution.

Together we’ll defeat this demon, saving not only Phil, but the entire world, if Blade and Zuben are right about that.

I push those thoughts from my mind, banishing all but the most hopeful ones. I don’t want to think about anything but Flame—his hands—his mouth—the hot press of his body against mine. And knowing the way Flame likes to fuck, he’s about to erase all my worries, even if the effects are temporary.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

Flame

My heart is flying so high I’m shocked any part of me is still touching the ground. Saying the words, ‘I love you,’ aloud, letting Ana know how I feel, gave me a release better than a thousand orgasms. A million orgasms. I feel so light and free, like anything in the world is possible.

And I plan to keep my promise to worship her—starting now.

I plan to worship every part of her—her wit, her goals, her hopes, her dreams—but at this moment, here in the moonlight, what I plan to worship first is her body.

She pulses against me as we kiss, both of us so aroused and ready. It would be easy to lift her gown, free my cock and be inside her in an instant, but that’s not what I want—not yet.

In one quick movement, I lift her as I stand, setting her feet down between me and the boulder.

“Flame.” Her hand drifts up my chest, her eyes following its path, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

Crouching, I slip my hands under the hem of her gown, encircling her tiny ankles with my hands, and then gliding my palms and fingers over her calves and shins.

Quivering slightly. She leans forward, placing her hands on my shoulders as if she can no longer support herself, and I look up into her eyes as I slowly let my hands rise. When I reach her knees, she moans, and I transfer my hands to the fabric of her dress, gathering it, slowly raising the hem to expose more of her sweet, soft flesh, a feast for my fingers and eyes.

Even her lower legs are works of art, perfectly shaped, the few tiny scars on her porcelain skin enhancing their beauty.

I press my lips against one scar, just below her right knee. “What wounded you?” I ask, breathless, and then trace the tiny ridge of scar, back and forth with my tongue.

“That?” A loud exhale follows her question, and her fingers dig into my shoulders. “Why?”

“I want to know every part of you.” I kiss the side of one knee then the other, and then let my tongue rise a few inches up the inside of one thigh, eliciting another moan.

“I fell,” she says. “I was chasing my new puppy over a stone path.”

I kiss the scar again. “What was your puppy’s name?” I kiss higher on her thigh, loving how her muscles quiver in response.

“I…I…” She stutters as my tongue traces up and down her inner thigh. “I don’t remember her name. She was a birthday gift, but mama ordered her taken away.”

“Poor baby.” I lick up her thigh, staying well away from her sex.

Her body pulses, her hips shifting. “I shouldn’t have dashed after the puppy. Very unladylike.”

The scent of her arousal is driving me crazy, but I want this to last, so I nibble the skin just above her quivering knee. “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

---