Page 93 of The Umbra King

“But what I can’t stop thinking about,” he said in a husky voice. “Is your mouth.”

With that, his hands grabbed the sides of her neck and tilted her head as he descended on her. She expected the kiss to be rough, but it was slow and sensual, and one of his hands slid to the back of her head, threading through her hair as the other on her throat squeezed ever so slightly.

His tongue was smooth as it moved with hers, and when henipped at her bottom lip, a long moan escaped her. “There’s the sound I love,” he crooned, smiling against her lips.

He stepped back, motioning to her dress. “This has to go.” When the words left his mouth, shadows pulled the fabric to the ground, exposing her panties and sandals.

His eyes roamed her nearly naked form. “Come here,” he ordered, and while her self-respect demanded she resist, her body obeyed.

He kneeled in front of her to remove her sandals, and when he looked up at her, he grabbed the sides of her panties to ease them down. She smirked down at the king and said, “I enjoy seeing you on your knees, Your Grace.”

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he stood and moved to her dresser. When he returned, he held out a shift and signaled for her to hold her hands up. Her brows shot to her hairline as he slipped the nightgown over her head. Was this some sort of fantasy of his?

His fingers worked at the buttons on his shirt, and after he shrugged it off, he removed the rest of his clothes, save for his boxer briefs. Grabbing the corner of the bedding, he pulled it back and gestured for her to climb in. “Lie down.”

Once again, she obeyed. After tucking her in, he crawled in beside her, tucked her into his side, and sent a shadow to turn out the lights.

The music still played, and she waited for him to move his hand lower, but he only pulled her closer. “What are we doing?” she asked, trying to twist to see his face.

He kissed the back of her neck and said, “Sleeping.”

“The fuck we are,” she growled. Her body wriggled in his hold as she tried to sit up, but his arms tightened. “You can’t work me up and then tell me tosleep.”

She felt his smile against her neck and the erection against her ass, but he didn’t reply.

Reaching her arm back, she clutched his dick, making him jump. “I would love nothing more than to fuck you until you walk with alimp, but only this morning you were limping for a completely different reason.”

“I took a million different potions,” she protested. “There’s no pain anywhere in my body, unless you count the ache between my thighs.”

He laughed as his hand moved south. When he reached the bottom of her shift, his fingers moved like silk up her bare thigh, and she swore if he stopped, she would die.

His voice was rich when he whispered against her hair, “Is this what you want, Miss Raven?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

His finger reached her clit but surpassed it to slide through her arousal. He dug his head into her neck and made an animalistic sound. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

She moved against his hand, wanting him to touch her more, and he obliged by moving his fingers through her folds to circle her clit. His touch was feather light as he rubbed lazy circles, and she moved her hips for more pressure.

His other arm snaked under her, pinning her arms as his hand flattened across her hip to keep her still, and she whined. “I need more.”

“You need to rest,” he replied in a dark voice. “But you said your pussy ached, and I can’t have that.”

His fingers moved to her entrance, and one plunged inside while the heel of his palm ground against her clit, making her body jolt. Torturously slow, his finger moved in and out, curling toward her stomach to hit the sensitive spot there.

“Shit,” she panted as she tried to move her hips to no avail.

“Tell me,” Caius murmured. “When I stroke your sweet little cunt with my hand, do you wish it was my tongue or my dick in its place?”

Her nipples begged to be touched, and her clit demanded more pressure, but she could pacify neither in his hold. “What makes you think I don’t want your hand?”

He inserted another finger, and she gasped. Like the night in the gardens, this was torture. Her body hummed with need, and the buildup was so slow it was hard to stay still. She wanted to go in every direction, and her skin needed to be touched everywhere.

She was alight with anticipation as his fingers dragged in and out, his palm rubbed up and down her clit in the softest of ways, and his breath fanned across her face.

“No one likes the fingers best,” he answered with another smile. “The fingers remind your body of what it can have, but only deliver a fraction of what you need.”

He added a third finger, and she bucked. His fingers were large, and they stretched her as much as an average man would, only they curved. “Fuck,” she moaned.

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