Page 42 of Untouched Queen by Royal Command

‘It’s just a swing,’ he offered mildly.

No safety net, half-rotted rope. No training. Dear God.‘And the adrenaline rush the first time you used it?’

‘Pretty big.’ He snorted softly. ‘I thought this room would no longer feel like sanctuary once you claimed it. Figured if I stayed away my problem with you would go away, only I keep turning up at your door and you keep welcoming me in, offering me anything. You’ve no idea how much I want to claim you, and to hell with self-restraint and leading by example and kings not having courtesans in this day and age.’

‘You could.’ Her hands shook with the force of her need as she set her wine on the small side table. ‘You could do that.’

‘I’d make it so good for you.’ He had a voice tailored for sin and seduction and lips that beckoned, even when his words were cruel. ‘Treat you like a queen.’

‘I don’t want to be a queen,’ she said, but he was drawing closer and she wasn’t moving away.

‘We all do things we don’t particularly want to do.’ He brushed his lips against hers and she opened for him instinctively, her tongue coming out to meet his. He slid a gentle hand beneath her hair and cupped the back of her neck, his thumb brushing the skin just behind her ear as he tilted her head where he wanted it and claimed her lips once more. Her eyes fluttered closed.

It was a kiss to get lost in.

When they broke it several years later, he rested his forehead against hers and drew a ragged breath. He ran his hand across her shoulder and down her arm to tangle her fingers in his. ‘Last chance to tell me you don’t want my hands on you, Sera. Because this is going to complicate things.’

‘I want this.’ She’d never for one moment not wanted this, from the moment she’d laid eyes on him. ‘I crave this,’ she whispered, and took the initiative and straddled him, a knee either side of his hips, and slid her hand from his the better to bury both of her hands in his hair. ‘I can make it good for you too. So good.’

His shirt had to go. Hers too, and he helped her with that, in between a dozen deep and drugging kisses. Breathing was overrated. His tongue curled around her puckered nipple was not overrated, and then he closed his mouth around it and sucked and she nearly came from that alone. His hands dug into the globes of her behind as he ground up against her, and she gave herself over to sensation and arched into the hardness of his erection and let her head fall back and her hands guide his head towards her other breast.

A soft grunt punched out of her, and he groaned and his hands tightened on her.

Moments later, she was on her back and seeing stars, real ones shining through the glass-domed roof, and Augustus was lifting her legs and removing her shoes and stripping her naked.

She’d been taught what to do, how to please, but she was too caught up in sensation to do any of it.

He started with kisses and gifted them everywhere. The tender curve of her shoulder, the hollow of her armpit and the curve of her breast. Her ribs, the jut of her hip. And then he lifted her leg and started again at her instep and worked his way up. The back of her knee—who knew that would be a go-to zone for squirming? The flesh of her inner thigh. Higher. Black eyes glittering as bold fingers paved the way for his mouth.

She was gone the minute his lips closed over her and his tongue flicked. Whatever this was had been weeks in the making. Every fight, every glance, every moment of pregnant silence between them had been a stroke towards this, and it was wingless flight and fall without a safety net and utterly overwhelming.

It still wasn’t enough.

‘I need—’

‘I know what you need,’ he growled. ‘And I need a condom.’

‘I’m protected.’ She opened hazy, glazed grey eyes and caught his face between both hands. ‘But there’s physical protection to hand if you want to be sure. Be sure.’

She slid out beneath him and crawled naked towards the orgy picture of the pleasure wheel offerings, reaching down to push at something that snapped open, a formerly hidden drawer at the very bottom of that part of the sofa. ‘What size?’

What size? His brain struggled for clarity until she held up several packets.

‘Not that one, not that one, probably this one,’ she said, reaching down and plucking a packet from a well-ordered tray. ‘You seem rather well formed.’

‘You seem rather well stocked.’

He had to laugh. He had to stalk, and push her down on her stomach and start kissing her all over again, even as he reached for the packet in her hand. He hadn’t kissed his way down her back yet and that was an oversight he aimed to correct. She was so responsive, so very ready to melt into his touch and give herself over to him. And his need to take was so very big.

He took his time, calling on every bit of the control that had been drilled into him since birth. Don’t lose it. Don’t let go. See to the other person’s need first because that was service and above all a king served his people. Don’t be greedy or entitled.

Give.

So he gave and gave but she gave it all back and they fed off each other and when he finally breached her, slow and sure, it felt like sliding his soul home.

He stilled, murmuring nonsense against her lips, and she surrendered, eyes never leaving his face as she asked for more.

He took her to the edge, time and time again.

And then he ruthlessly tipped her over the ledge and followed and gave her everything.

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