Page 18 of Her Red Hot Secret Royal Fling

“Thank God,” she muttered, and now her hands ran over his back, tracing lines, digging in a little. He pressed down to kiss her, and almost exploded at the sensation of skin-to-skin. Her breasts, so soft against his hair-roughened chest, her body so warm, so delicate somehow. Now it was Ares who groaned, and he couldn’t hold back his need any longer. He moved his mouth from her lips to her chin, flicking her with his tongue before moving lower, to the petal-soft skin of her décolletage, running his tongue over her clavicle and then lower, straight down, until his head was between her breasts and he inhaled her first, before moving his mouth to the left, tracing the line of her with his tongue, slowly, tormenting them both, before he took her nipplein his mouth and rolled it with his tongue, delighting in the way it hardened and changed in his warm mouth. She was crying out, and he bit down on her then—not hard, not intending to hurt of course, so much as surprise—and she bucked her hips, then swore, so he laughed, moving to the other nipple, and subjecting it to the same long, slow torture.

“Ares,” she groaned, and he felt like the most powerful man in the world. He loved hearing her say his name. She spoke to him as though he were a normal man and not the king. She had from the very beginning, and it was a heady, addictive feeling to be recognized for this.

“Sofia,” he grinned against her and then moved his mouth lower, no longer grinning, but rather breathing heavily with anticipation. The button on her pants was stubborn and he swore as he struggled with it, before finally freeing the damned thing and pushing the offending fabric down her legs. Again, he wished for light, so he could see her properly, but in lieu of that, he could feel. Her legs were smooth and soft, and he thought about how much he’d like to be doing this in a hotel, or the palace, somewhere that he could truly revel in every single part of her, rather than this cramped tent.

“We can stop anytime you want,” he said, kissing her stomach just beside her belly button.

“I know,” she moved then, planting her feet on the ground and bending her knees, his torso between. He crouched lower, hating the confines of the tent even as he loved everything about this moment. Her underpants felt the same as her bra—a matching set. He didn’t remove it straight away. Instead, he felt a kick of heat as he simply nudged them to the side and ran a finger over her seam, her most sensitive, private place. Again, her hips bucked, and she cried out. Her fingers made a screechy noise against the synthetic fabric of the sleeping bags, which she was gripping tightly and then releasing.

He smiled as he kept exploring her there, his finger teasing and mapping, recognizing where she liked to be touched by the way her breathing changed and her body flexed before he couldn’t fight his own needs any longer and he pressed his finger inside of her, long and slow, and her muscles spasmed around him in a way that made him know how turned on she was. “You’re so wet, Sofia,” he grunted, as he felt a hint of his own seed spilling into his pants.

And so was he. So turned on by her, so flooded with need.

“I know,” she ground her hips. “I need you, now, Ares. Now.”

He made a tsking noise. “You’re impatient.”

“I’m a girl who knows what she wants,” she said through clenched teeth.

“And you’re going to get it,” he promised. “As much as you want of it, I promise.” And then he was sliding her underpants down her legs and replacing his finger with his mouth, holding her at the top of her legs and worshipping her sex with his tongue, tasting her, feeling her reverberations as pleasure built and built inside of her, and then focusing on the one part of her that was most susceptible, driving her wild until she fell apart, utterly and completely, her screams throbbing through the tent and into the solitude of this forest that until then, he’d thought of as utterly his.

Her hands pushed through his hair, as she rode the wave, holding him where he was, but as her breathing returned to normal, her hands were moving, lower, pulling at him, trying to get to him, and then she was sitting up, seeking him with her mouth, kissing him, needing him as he’d needed her. Needing more.

He had been enjoying the slow, torturous exploration but Sofia was impatient now, just as she’d said, and she kissed him hard, her hands pushing at his pants until they were loose and able to be stepped out of. But Ares hadn’t taken the time orforethought to remove his shoes—when had she done hers?—so he had to pull away from her to untie them, and he cursed the big, sturdy camping boots then, because it took him at least a minute and it was a minute he would have preferred to be spending in about a thousand different ways.

“At least you know this wasn’t a foregone conclusion,” he quipped, as he finally got free of them, and his clothes for good measure, and crouched before her naked.

“I know it wasn’t. Ares—,” she put a hand on his shoulder. “I presume you didn’t bring protection?”

Shit.

Of course, he hadn’t brought protection. Up until they were about to leave, he’d expected to be spending three days with an old friend. Not this vixen.

“No.”

Her groan was one of disbelief, but then, she moved closer to him, her lips brushing his shoulder first, then dropping to his chest, running over him, flicking him, just as he’d done to her. Her hands went another way, one coming between his legs and wrapping around his length, so she gasped a little in his mouth as she explored his size fully.

“Oh my,” she murmured, pulling up to kiss him properly, her tongue flicking into his mouth as she pumped his arousal in a way that was extremely dangerous, all things considered.

Her mouth moved to his earlobe, which she teased between her teeth.

“I have a contraceptive device implanted,” she murmured there. Words that were a balm to his soul. “And I’ve never had unprotected sex, so I’m safe. Just FYI.”

He groaned, turning his face so he could claim her mouth with his own.

“And you?” She asked, hurriedly, needily, hungrily, as her hand continued to move over him, and he could hardly think straight, much less talk.

“I’m safe,” he promised—a fact he knew because he underwent medical tests every year, for a whole range of things. “But I cannot risk a pregnancy.”

“Believe me, that’s the last thing I want, ever. I’ve used the device for years…”

“But with condoms too,” he reminded her.

“Yes. But…God, Ares…” she whimpered. “I want to feel you…”

He wanted that, too. He wanted that like he couldn’t possibly explain, but there was no way he’d taken even the smallest risk of pregnancy until the time was right, and the woman was right. The thought did something weird inside of him, making him wonder: who would be right?

“Not now,” he said, the devastation like a blow to him. “Not yet,” he said, as if that was somehow better.

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