Page 33 of Her Red Hot Secret Royal Fling

She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. “The only thing that’s going to hurt me is if you make me wait a moment longer. Enough. I’ve waited long enough.”

And this time, when she arched her back and lifted herself higher, he didn’t fight her, but rather plunged his impressive length right into her, all the way, deep and hard, fast andferocious, as though he’d been holding himself back with monumental effort but that dam had finally burst.

He thrust into her and stayed there, and she cried out because it was, as he’d said, a total, and utter possession.

Neither of them moved.They’d waited too long for this, had both needed it an excruciating amount, and now that he was inside of her, as deep as he could go, buried right up to his balls, and her muscles were squeezing around him, tight and tormenting, he was worried that too much friction would see him come straight away.

He hadn’t known that kind of lack of control and stamina in a long time—if ever. And so he stayed there, giving them each a chance to draw breath and get used to this, hoping that the passing of time would make him feel less on edge, a little less good. Because this was the most exquisite sensation he’d known, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of it.

He hated thinking like that, for many reasons, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t help the knowledge that gripped him, the certainty that the chemistry he shared with Sofia was utterly unique.

She panted his name, and he started to move, her desperate plea that he not hold back reverberating through her, so he moved without restraint, taking her hard and fast, just as he’d longed to in the forest. And it didn’t matter—she kept begging him for more, faster, her nails ripping down his back as he lost himself in her, his hands all the while running over her body, feeling her soft skin, her full breasts, his aching pleasure for her something he felt in every cell of his body. When she came, he held himself still, buried inside of her, but he brought his fingers to her sex and brushed her there, intensifying her orgasm until her head was thrashing from side to side and her cheeks werebright red. Her skin glowed with a sheen of pleasure, and he felt an ancient, animalistic pride in having been able to do that to her.

God, he wanted to come, then and there, but he wasn’t ready to end this. He’d waited for what felt like a lifetime for her, and now that they were here, he intended to make it last. He wanted to see her come again and again, and more than that, he wanted to feel it. He liked the way her muscles had tightened around him; he loved the way her body had quivered as she rode that wave of pleasure.

He had no intention of stopping this yet.

“I am going to wear you out, Sofia,” he promised. “You will not want to leave bed tomorrow if I have anything to say about it.” Her eyes widened, and she reached up to trace his lips.

“Will you be in said bed?”

The idea had definite appeal. A whole day exploring her, tasting her, making the most of the time they had left… but, no. Ares couldn’t give into that temptation. He wanted her, but he had a role to play.

“I can’t. But I like the thought of you lying naked, waiting for me to return.”

She gasped and bit down on her lip. He had no idea what she thought about that—he didn’t even know what to make of it himself. That was not a normal sentiment for Ares. It was so uncivilized. So sensually demanding. And yet, it was definitely as he felt.

She bucked her hips, reminding him that he was still inside of her. Like he could forget.

He ground his own hips, immediately jerking at the sensational feelings she sparked, then dropped his mouth to her neck and nuzzled her there, grazing his teeth over her shoulder.

“I like the idea of you being my willing sex slave,” he said, a gruff admission.

“Your stable maid?” she teased back, so he grinned and nodded.

“Definitely.” But then he was moving again, staring down at her as he drove in and out of her in a way that he knew, by now, drove her crazy. And when she came, he watched her from above, committing every detail of her face to memory, to keep him warm on those nights when this was over. When she was back in London, and he was all alone in Moricosia, or worse, married to someone else.

The thought clouded his mind, threatening cold in the midst of this ravaging fire, so he ignored contemplating what his future held, and focused only on the here and now, on this wonderful woman who was temporarily a part of his life.

As her breathing slowed and then returned to normal, he dug his fingers into her hips, holding her steady, and she looked up at him with all the ferocious determination and concentration he’d shown a moment earlier, as though she too were mentally filming this night, saving it for later use.

“You make me feel amazing,” she admitted, breathlessly, as her body moved beneath his and her skin flushed pink.

It was a sentiment that proved to be the ultimate aphrodisiac, and as soon as she’d said it, he felt himself tipping over the edge, pleasure like a bursting wave, a tsunami, that sucked him under then spat him hard and fast towards the shore, so he couldn’t think of fighting it. He dropped his head into the crook of her neck and gripped her tight as wave after wave shuddered his body, and it was her name that was torn from his lips, almost like a plea to God. But for what, he couldn’t say.

Sometime in theearly hours of the morning, the X-rated direction of Sofia’s dreams woke her, and she had a disconcerting few moments as she tried to work out where shewas. And then, memories washed over her, one after the other. Ares taking her on this bed, until she thought she had no more pleasure left in her body—something he was clearly on a mission to disabuse her of, because after they’d snacked on a platter of cheeses and bread, naked on the floor, he reached for a condom then pulled her onto his lap, and while he sat on the floor, she rode him, the power of that its own sensual high, because she was in control, and he let her be. As much as someone like Ares could allow someone to be, anyway. He took her hips from time to time to hold her low on his arousal, or to change her speed, always to her benefit, but most of the time, he kept his head buried in her breasts, sucking on them, fondling them, weighing them with his hands, until she felt like the lightest touch there was going to set her pulse on fire.

Lying in bed, curled against him, his hand was a possessive band across her stomach, but of its own accord, his hand kept curling higher, his fingers finding her breasts even in sleep, so she moaned softly, wanting him again, despite how often they’d been together the night before. She didn’t know if he was fully awake or not, but suddenly he moved, curling his other hand under her so it could take over the touching of her way too sensitive breasts, and the hand that rested on top of her could snake lower, finding her sex and teasing her there until stars filled her eyes and she almost lost her breath. Pleasure built inside of her, and when he pressed his rock-hard arousal to her back, to the curve of her buttocks, she pressed back against him, inviting him, needing him, wanting him to be everywhere inside of her and on her body, all at once.

“Please,” she whispered, wondering how many times she’d said that word with him? She begged him as a matter of course, and she didn’t even care. It was just physical, a rare, overpowering need to be with him, that meant nothing because, at the end of the day, they were two intelligent people who wouldnever let their bodies run their lives. This was an aberration, made totally acceptable by the fact they both knew when and why it would end.

His hand between her legs moved faster, pushing thoughts from her mind, and he tugged on her nipples in a way that made her wonder if he was actually a sexual savant, because he seemed to knowexactlywhat she liked, and how to give it to her.

But Sofia had been pleasured by him all night, and she wanted to drive him wild. She wanted to make him cry out with a sense of mindless pleasure, so she rolled over, with true regret, because his touch had been one of the closest things to perfection she’d ever known.

She kissed his chest first, his nipples, teasing them with her teeth before running her mouth lower, and lower, taking his arousal deep in her mouth, just like she had in the forest. She loved this—she especially loved how it affected him. She could tell he loved it, needed it, craved it, yet he never asked it of her. This was always something she initiated, and she liked that he saw a boundary there and wasn’t willing to cross it.

She looked up his body, saw the way he was straining to hold onto his control and smiled against him. She didn’t want him to hold onto his control though. She wanted him to lose it completely—and she wanted to know it was because of her.

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