Page 120 of Thrones We Steal

“Which one is your favorite?” I ask, after he’s told me the meaning behind each one I point to. His answers have been getting shorter as his desperation to get back to the task at hand increases.

“One you haven’t found yet,” he says. “But that’s enough talking for now.” He undoes the clasp of my bra, discards it, then falls onto me again and kisses me until tattoos evaporate from my thoughts.

His warm palm smooths my stomach before slowly sliding further, his fingers skimming the waistband of my panties. He swallows my involuntary gasp of anticipation.

“I’m going to seduce you, ravish you, and pleasure you,” he murmurs against my lips, “and then I’m going to take you.”

My heart shudders to a stop, before resuming an erratic beat.

“I can’t wait to discover exactly what you like.” He nuzzles my neck as he says this, and his hand slips lower until he’s cupping me, his warmth seeping through my panties, which are probably soaked by this point.

The pressure of his palm is too good, and I arch into it. He purrs his approval and slips a finger just inside my waistband, sliding it back and forth along that sensitive line, a promise of what’s to come.

His path downward is excruciatingly slow, and I whimper in protest, bliss, agony—I don’t even know at this point. He finally reaches his destination after what feels like a lifetime—a journey that has left me breathless and panting for want of him.

He slips a finger inside me and shudders out a breath. “Fuck,” he moans. “You’re going to completely undo me, baby.” A second finger joins the first. “How are you so tight? And so wet? God, C.” His voice has grown raspy.

I’m unraveling. The way he’s moving inside of me is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and my climax hits me before I can control it. He holds me close while continuing his relentless assault with his hand. When it’s over, I whisper, “That ended way too soon.”

He grins and takes my nipple in his mouth. I cry out at the biting pleasure. “You’re mistaken if you think you’re only getting one orgasm tonight,” he says after releasing me. “I fully intend to ravish you all night long.”

The heat deep inside me grows until I’m consumed with it again. He searches my face, and his intensity surprises me. In this moment, I am his sole focus and desire, and the thought makes me melt.

He moves his mouth to my stomach, sucking and licking every inch of my skin. It’s impossible to stop the noises that leave my mouth of their own accord. If this is heaven, I will die a happy girl.

When he reaches the top of my panties, he stops. “As much as I love these, it’s time for them to go.” He slips his hands inside and gently pulls them down my legs, the stretchy fabric no match for his sculpted hands.

Now that I know what he’s capable of, there is no stopping the trembling that has overtaken me. My muscles quiver in trepidation and anticipation. He notices and places his palm flat on my stomach.

“Are you cold?”

I shake my head, because words have failed me at the moment.

“Do you trust me?”

I nod again, surprised to find that it’s true. I shouldn’t, but I do.

He gazes at me for a few more seconds, then turns his attention back to my body. He drops a kiss to my navel and nibbles his way to the source of all of my heat.

He looks up at me from between my legs. “I am dying to taste you,” he rasps. I quake, and his fingers gently knead me apart.

I cry out when his tongue touches the most sensitive part of me. It’s all the encouragement he needs. He sucks and licks and teases me into oblivion, until the only thing I can think of is the all-consuming fire between my legs. This orgasm hits harder, longer, and more intensely than the first. His tongue doesn’t let up its torment until I’m completely spent, a shaking mass on the bed.

He scoops me into his arms like a small child. I feel like bawling. “You are incredible,” he whispers into my hair. “A fucking goddess.” He bites my earlobe softly and kisses his way down my neck and to my collarbone. How I’ll possibly survive another five minutes of this is beyond me.

“Henry—” I stammer. “I-I don’t think—”

“Shh,” he says. “Let me worry about that. Your job is just to feel. And I’m confident you have another orgasm or two still in you.”

I’ve never even experienced multiples before, let alone more than two, and I’m about to inform him of this when he covers my nipple with his mouth and that familiar heat begins to rise again. How?

If he was slow and calculating before, now his movements are frenzied, likely spurred on by his own need. He sheds the rest of his clothes, and his naked body is a sight to behold. He catches me staring and grins down at me, the same smile he had when he was ten.

It’s hot and slow and seductive, the way he moves over me, building my heat to a raging fire. When I don’t think my body can possibly handle any more, he takes me.

It’s swift and deep and all-consuming, and we tumble over together. His name rips out of me as he rips into me and the fire rips through me. Somehow, through the blinding bliss, it hits me that this is real. My dream has actually been fulfilled.

We’re going to live happily ever after.

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