Page 158 of Born for Silk

“Remember your claws, Aster…”

When he reminds me of my claws, reinforcing my safety. That he will stop. Listen. I unravel and relax, my insides gripping and grabbing at his hard length.

Then he starts to really move.

Pleasure builds at a relentless pace until I am drowning in its embrace, my entire body awash with it.

“Rome,” I cry out.

His cock lengthens within my pulsing core. And he curses, pulls out, throws his head back, and pumps his cum across my stomach, claiming the swollen mound, using his hand. “Aster… I love you. Fuck me, Aster, I love you.”

I watch the erotic scene, his veined forearms contracting, his fist working every spurt out. “I love you, too, my king.”

He drops to his hands on either side of me, creating a frame of muscles around my body. Firm, authoritarian lips move to mine, needing wholesome affection. A kiss.

A kiss from my lover.

From my king.

We both pant into each other’s mouths while pleasure lingers and plays a soft encore.

Too soon, he breaks our kiss. Presses his forehead to mine. “Have you been well?” A warm hand touches the mound at my hips. “Is it getting too hard? We can incubate soon.”

“I can keep going. A little longer.”

“That’s my good little Silk Girl.” He kisses me once. “You can try, but I will make the call. My heir will survive perfectly fine in the coming months outside your body. You have done such a good job, Aster. And you will respect my decision when it comes. Understand, little creature?”

I nod. “It is only… I am not sleeping well.”

He hums, a menacing and depthless sound. “You’re working so hard for me. So tired. Let me help my sweet creature get some sleep.”

Scooping me up as if I weigh nothing, he lays me on my side, with my pillow, crown to the foot of the bed.

He lies the opposite way.

I squirm. “What are yo?—”

My words halt on a moan when he drags my pelvis to his mouth, one thigh to the mattress, one leg slung over his face. In a long, slow stroke, his tongue slides between my folds.

And again.

My skin tingles. He isn’t trying to build that wonderful bliss; he is gentle and tender, teasing me with small dips and licks.

He’s simply making me feel… nice.

I smile and take a big breath.

Rome of The Strait. In like a storm… No longer slipping away like a phantom.

Staying.

Chapter Nineteen

Aster

“You look like a fertility goddess,” Tuscany says, stopping a few paces away from me.

Even after everything we have been through—at the abbey, waiting for Rome to return, mourning Odio—she still keeps space around herself. She seems to draw away from physical touch, whereas I seek it out.

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