Page 59 of The Kingdom's Crown

She pulled her arm free from the fallen sleeve and wrapped it around the back of my neck, twisting on her seat to face me, gaze warm and catching a little of the warm glitter of the fire. "I have another confession to make," she said, arching her neck for me as I hunted for the spot on her throat that made her shiver as I dragged my bite across the spot.

"Mmm, what is that?" I asked.

"Camellia is not the only one who struggled to contain the Hunger today." Bryony circled her hips over mine in emphasis, and we both groaned. "I know it sounds strange, it was Grandmother's funeral but—"

"It's part of you," I said, the old refrain we always seemed to be reminding her of.

I pushed down the other sleeve until she dragged her arm free, the bodice of the dress falling away to reveal Bryony's pert breasts. I pressed my hands to her shoulder blades, her back arching in offering. My lips landed delicately over the pillowy flesh, Bryony's sigh musical and her body growing heavier in my grip.

"I can take you in to the others," I offered weakly before sucking one nipple between my lips, swirling my tongue over the puckered flesh.

"Not yet," Bryony gasped, rocking on my lap, my cock rising to her call, the throb sweet and painful all at once, begging for the same relief my princess wanted. Bryony's hands braced against the back of the chair, and she sat up straighter, lifting off me slightly. She smiled as I gazed up at her, a great tangle of skirts and fabric dividing us.

She slid off my lap and held my gaze as she pushed the heavy black fabric of her dress off her hips first, and then ruffling black underskirts, and finally the slip until she stood only in black silk stockings.

"Those too," I said, unbuttoning my own shirt as Bryony arched an eyebrow at me.

She shimmied out of the stockings, her eyes on my shoulders. She liked my tattoos and made a game of tracing the lines with her tongue when we were in the mood for slow seductions. I suspected tonight was not one of those moments.

"That's enough," she gasped as I pushed my trousers down to my thighs.

I opened my mouth to argue, but Bryony was already kicking away her skirts and climbing back onto the chair, straddling my lap and pressing herself against my chest, forcing me to lean back and crane my neck to stare up at her.

"I love you too," she said, girlish, sweet, and utterly disarming.

Then she took me in hand and sank directly down onto my cock, dense slick heat seeming to swallow me whole. I groaned, my eyes falling shut and all the breath rushing out of me as Bryony seated herself to the hilt, her own soft moan pressed open-mouthed to my cheek.

"Wicked, wanton girl," I rasped, nuzzling against her throat.

"Yes," she agreed, hands on the back of the chair, her body already beginning the eager work of riding me.

"You're going to rule all of Kimmery the way you do your Chosen," I said, grasping her hips and making the rhythm rougher, more urgent, our skin slapping together as I bucked up to meet her, the grasp of her dizzying.

"With a great deal of sex?" Bryony giggled.

"With absolute devotion," I growled, and then I took her mouth with my own, fucking it as roughly as she did me.

Bryony's hands moved from the chair to my back, nails digging in as I wrapped her up tighter, took control of our union, grinding my hips into her pelvis. The chair rocked and thumped beneath us, and I buried my snarls into the kiss until Bryony pulled away with a gasp. Her head fell back, eyes shut and mouth parted, releasing soft cries and whimpers to the air.

I didn't have the others' patience or their interest in Bryony's pleasured agony. I wanted her relief as much as my own, wanted to throw her over the edge and have her drag me there with her.

Bryony's nails coursed my back, the anxiety and tension of the day released with the fight and play of our fucking. I bit her throat, her shoulder, down to her breast, until Bryony grew louder, my name high on her voice, declaring me as the man who was occupying her every thought in the moment. Pride was always my weak spot.

I shoved one hand between us, my bucking turning into a determined rocking, my fingers searching for Bryony's clit. She let out a garbled yell and squeezed tight around me, and I teased and tortured the spot until she was shaking, trying to escape bliss.

Her hands slipped into my hair, tightening and tugging as she came, our chests sticking together as her breaths stuttered. And like the animal I sometimes was, I took my princess down to the carpet, covering her softening form with my still rigid one.

"Yes, Thao, come for me," Bryony sighed.

I fucked her roughly, chasing my own end, and Bryony arched her hips into mine until we were fused and I was crumbling, fire in my blood, and a roar buried against her throat.

Her scratches were hot on my back, her breath damp on my cheek, thighs still trembling against my weary hips. One hand loosened from my hair, and Bryony's touch was sharp with magic as she reached for my back.

"Leave them," I said, nipping at her jaw.

"I didn't mean to," Bryony said, running a finger over the raised marks she'd left on my skin.

"Mmm, I don't mind." I blinked heavily, wondering if Bryony minded my weight pinning her in place, but she seemed content in the spot, and I didn't want to separate yet. "You would make a good tiger," I said absently.

---