Page 23 of Traitor Son

“No…!” She gave another cry as he stroked, circling with his fingers as he pressed his face into her breasts, licking and kissing and biting with his heart pounding wildly in his ears. Her nipples were so pink and tempting, quivering taut on his tongue as if they might melt. He tugged on one and then the other, and every time she jerked, every time she moaned, the pitch of his own desire burned hotter.

And then, nerving himself, he slid one long finger inside her.

“Oh—oh, y-your…what…” She stuttered in shock, her eyes flying open as she tried to squirm away from the invading digit.

He didn’t stop. Ophele thought she would burst into flames as a second finger joined the first, and that handsome, forbidding face nuzzled again at her breast. This was Remin Grimjaw, the Scourge of Valleth, who had done nothing but glare at her from the moment they met. His lips moving, plucking at her. His tongue laving. His teeth nipping her skin. She could never have guessed what would happen, she certainly could never have imagined this, but the last thing in the world she would have expected from him was pleasure.

His fingers slid in and out, easier every time. It tickled. He made her body shake. In. Out. In. Out. Her breath burned in her lungs as a cry burst from her lips, sensation scorching along her nerves as she jerked and quivered through her first climax.

“I think you’re ready,” he said, as if from very far away, and his arm slid under her knees to lift her, striding toward the bed.

* * *

Deprived of her chemise, Ophele lay beneath her new husband and for the first time felt the naked skin of a man’s body against her own.

She had never seen such a man. Well, she had never seen a man of any description without his clothes on, but the duke was a uniquely imposing specimen. The nuptial bed had been prepared for the wedding night with the blankets folded back and a fresh linen sheet spread out, scattered with rose petals and scented with amber, but Ophele noticed none of this. Her eyes were riveted on her husband as he undressed, revealing a body that was so unlike her own, it was hard to believe they were the same species. His chest and shoulders were massive, heavymuscle working in his arms as he stripped off his doublet and breeches. A rigid belly, with a trail of coarse dark hair leading to something shedefinitelydid not have, springing upright from his clothing to pulse against his belly.

Her mouth fell open.

“Stop staring,” he said flatly, moving over her on the bed so she couldn’t see it anymore. “You’ll make me embarrassed.”

“But I’ve never—why doesn’t it show through your clothes?” she wanted to know, trying to sneak another peek. Curiosity had not only conquered timidity, it was busily drowning it in a nearby river. “How do you hide it?”

“It’s not always like that.” The corner of his mouth twitched again, and he turned his eyes to her, his fingers moving between her legs. “Just as you’re not always like this. Are you?”

“Noooo…” The word ended in a quavering gasp as he stroked her, slow caresses that proved she was very wet indeed, touching places even she had never dreamed existed, as if he knew secrets of her body unknown to her.

Maybe he did. The firelight burnished his back and shoulders as he moved over her, fluid as a beast. His body was covered in old scars, jagged and snarling lines in pink and silver-white, gouges where chunks of flesh had been torn away. He was so warm, like a stone that had been baking in the sun all day, and everywhere he touched her, her skin shivered against his.

“Your Grace—” she mewed, hardly knowing what she meant to say. His fingers moved inside her, pushing and wiggling as if he were looking for something.

“Your Grace, Your Grace.” His fingers curled up, stroking inside, and she cried out. “I think we can dispense with titles when we’re naked, wife. What’s my name?”

“R-Remin,” she whispered. Her tawny eyes shone as she looked up at him, so guileless that he doubted himself all over again. She was either a consummate liar or no liar at all, and it was hard to believe that any maid so young could pretend so well, or that a creature of the Emperor could place herself so trustingly in his hands.

“Again,” he whispered back. His fingers circled and dived into her. Now he understood what it meant, that she must be wet, and her hipsundulated with him, filled with innocent sensuality. He nipped the tip of her ear and wondered if he was falling into a trap. “Ophele…”

She moved under him, whimpering.

“Remin…”

“Again.” His breath felt hot and thick in his throat, and he bit her neck. Her skin was littered with the marks of his desire.

“Re—Remin!” His name cracked in two as he found it at last, the rough spot inside her that Miche had told him to look for. There was a sudden flood of wetness as he rubbed her and shewrithedin response, her heels digging into the mattress.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, panting with excitement.

“I—it…I feel, strange—ohhhhh!”

The cry burst from her as she jerked beneath him, her face twisted in beautiful agony. White flashed in waves behind her eyes. Ophele saw his face above her as if through a haze, his black eyes heated and intent as a hunter, his firm lips eagerly parted.

The sight of her climaxing sent such a rush of lust through him, it was all he could do to keep from shoving himself into her immediately. Stars, the way she sounded, crying his name! Remin sucked in a breath, his hips bucking involuntarily. What black magic was she working, the daughter of his enemy?

He hadn’t had any idea how intimate this would be. How impossible it would be to keep her at arm’s length when she was naked beneath him, her voice crying out with pleasure. He had checked her for weapons when he undressed her, but what defense had he against that look on her face? Those soft, trembling lips? Was it possible that she might be his, in truth? House Hurrell had been bannermen to his father; could it be that she was not the Emperor’s creature at all? Could she be as innocent as she seemed?

What would it mean, if she was?

“Hold onto me,” he said, his voice deepening with desire. Her eyes were blurred and soft, weaving up to his face as he pushed her legs apart and moved himself between them, angling into the small cleft between her thighs. The firstinchof penetration felt so good, he had to swallow a gasp.

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