Page 158 of The Princess and Her Grand King

“Occasionally,” he said hoarsely. “But… I can’t think of this now. I wish not to think about this.” There was a wild, desperate look on his face. “I need to forget. Help me forget.”

“What do you need?”

“I need you. Need to be inside you.” What he was asking for must have dawned on him because horror joined desperation. “Fuck, I apologize. I shouldn’t ask this of you. What am I doing? I—”

“Hey, it’s okay, dearest.” She pulled him closer, and rolled onto her back, parting her thighs. Lifting the hem of her nightgown, she bared herself for him. "Here…”

“No, I can’t use you like this. It’s not fair to you. I—” He swallowed hard, fighting himself.

“I want you to. I’m your woman, My Grand King. Let me take care of you,” she coaxed him, urging him forward. “Use me if it helps ease the pain.”

Conflict warred in his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“I’m offering willingly because I want this. Please don’t make me beg. I want to feel you inside me again.”

“Emeriel…” Gratitude and relief softened his tormented gaze.

With a sharp exhale, he moved between her legs, his hands shaking as he hastily removed his pants.

His arousal pressed against her femininity, but he didn’t enter.

Grasping the neckline of her garment, ripping it with one tug, he exposed the soft curves of her breast. Dipping his head, his mouth closed over her nipple, sucking it hungrily.

Emeriel bit her lip, her breath catching. Her breasts still tender.

Yet, she cradled his head closer, holding him to her.

“Yes, I love you so much. My powerful, powerful man.” The murmurs poured naturally from her lips, warmth rising within her. “My Beloved.”

He growled low in his throat, his mouth tugging hard on her nipple while his hand kneaded and pressed the other breast.

He sucked with the enthusiasm of a starving man, making her feel every pull, every strong suction. Sending sharp pulses of pleasure straight to her core.

Emeriel's desire stirred, rising with every touch… every pull of his mouth.

She was beginning to suspect her dearest had a particular fondness for breasts.

There was something deeply erotic about the sight of him like this. Clinging to her, lost in his hunger, while Emeriel held him close.

Eyes closed, his cheeks hollowed with each suckle, and she couldn’t stop the soft moan slipping from her lips as she tried not to squirm.

Without breaking his focus or releasing her, Daemonikai shifted, raising her leg over his hip. Then, in one smooth move, he entered her.

Emeriel bit her lip hard, trying to stifle the sharp cry rushing to her throat at the discomfort.

“That’s it,” she encouraged. “That’s it, my dear king.”

His hips began to move, slow and deep, his thick length stretching her.

Long, low groans of pleasure rumbled from his throat as he angled himself at an uncomfortable-looking position, refusing to let her go or lose contact.

Emeriel cupped her breast, offering it to him as small cries tumbled from her.

His nonstop suction on her nipple, combined with the steady rhythm of his thrusts, created a sweet agony that left her breathless. The pleasure-pain sensation was almost too much.

She hadn’t expected to reach her peak, but the release came upon her suddenly, without warning or buildup. Rippling through her in soft waves.

Surrendering to it, she let out a long, drawn-out moan, small tremors raking her body.

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