Page 60 of Wicked Depths

Because I already know.

And gods help me so does she.

Lifting to my knees, I press my lips to her stomach, to the sharp cut of her hip bone. “As my fiery queen commands,” I murmur against her skin.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, a sharp pull, guiding me to where she wants me.

I don’t fight her.

I spread her thighs, my palms tracing the soft flesh there, my tentacles slithering up her legs, teasing, wrapping, holding her open for me.

And then I taste her.

Goddess.

She is molten heat and salt, a storm contained in soft, slick velvet. I groan, dragging my tongue over her clit, slow, savoring, teasing.

Her breath hitches, her grip tightening in my hair.

“That’s it, siren. Show me how much you crave the burn,” she rasps.

I hum against her, the vibration making her shudder.

Her hips jerk forward, chasing the sensation, but I grip her thighs, holding her in place, dragging my tongue over her again, flicking, swirling, sucking.

She moans, a sharp, breathless sound that sends a pulse of pride straight through me.

I want more.

I want to ruin her.

I press my tongue deeper, my tentacles curling around her thighs, keeping her steady, keeping her exactly where I want her.

I pull back slightly, dragging my tongue torturously slow along her slick folds, barely touching her clit. She lets out a strangled noise, her claws scraping against my scalp.

I grin against her.

“What’s wrong, Dragon Queen?” I murmur, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of my tongue. “Losing your patience?”

Nyxara’s breathing is ragged, her pupils blown wide, the emerald of her irises consumed by the sheer, raw need darkening her gaze. She looks wild like this—hair disheveled, lips parted, body trembling beneath my touch.

But patience has never been her virtue.

A growl rumbles low in her throat, her claws digging into my thighs as she yanks me up, her strength overpowering, her possessiveness undeniable. Before I can react, before I can tease her about how needy she’s become, she rips the pearl bodice from my body, the delicate chains snapping under her strength. The cool water kisses my newly exposed skin.

I barely have time to gasp before she grips the fabric of my skirt, tearing it clean down the middle, the shredded material falling away in tatters as she tosses it carelessly aside.

Then, she flips me onto my back, pressing me into the cool silk sheets, her weight pinning me down.

A sharp inhale escapes me, my body shuddering at the heat of her skin against mine. My tentacles twitch in anticipation, sensing the shift in her energy—the hunger, the dominance, the control she so desperately needs to reclaim.

“Enough,” she growls, her voice molten, unyielding. “You forget who’s in charge, little siren.”

I smirk against the sheets, even as my breath hitches at the feel of her trailing her claws up my spine, slow and deliberate, teasing my over sensitized flesh. “Oh? And who might that be?” I purr, knowing exactly how far I can push her before she snaps.

She snarls in response, her body pressing against mine, her fingers sliding down my waist, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise.

“Keep running your mouth,” she murmurs darkly, her lips ghosting over the shell of my ear. “And see what happens.”

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