Page 93 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

Tonight, she is mine, and I am hers.

I kiss her deeply, tasting every soft sigh that slips from her lips. My hands move over her, exploring every inch of her skin, tracing patterns only I know. When I finally push the shirt from her body, she shivers—not from cold, but anticipation.

“I can’t believe you’re real.” My voice drops to a whisper.

Isabella smiles, her full breasts rising and falling with each breath. Just looking at her, ready to be taken, makes me hard. But I take my time with her, pressing kisses down the length of her throat, across her collarbone. Her breath stutters when Ireach her chest, her fingers tangling in my hair as I kiss her skin with a reverence I rarely allow myself. My mouth finds the curve of her breast, and I linger there, tracing slow, wet kisses over her skin. Her body tightens beneath me, her fingers flex against my scalp as I flick my tongue over her nipple, drawing a quiet gasp from her lips. I wrap my lips around it, sucking gently, relishing the way she arches into me, whispering my name.

My hand moves to her other breast, fingers grazing over the sensitive peak, teasing, kneading, feeling her come undone beneath my touch. I take my time, alternating between soft and passionate kisses. I let the sound of her breathless whimpers guide me.

I trail kisses down her stomach, savoring the way her muscles clench under my touch. I push her thighs apart, watching the way she trembles for me, already aching, already mine. I hook my fingers around her panties and pull them down, tossing them aside before positioning myself between her legs.

She gasps when I stroke my fingers over her, teasing, feeling her warmth.

“Dominic,” she breathes, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.

Before I can process it, she shifts from under me and pushes me down on the bed.

She flashes a wicked grin at me as she unbuckles my belt, pulling down my pants just enough to expose my cock.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” I ask as she sits on top of me, straddling me.

“You don’t want this?” she asks, her eyes challenging me to refuse. She knows I want this more than anything.

She takes my cock in her hand, stroking it gently.

I groan. “Fuck, Isabella. You know I do.”

At this, she shifts, guiding herself down onto me, taking me in inch by inch, her breath hitching, her nails digging into my shoulders.

“Fuck,” I groan, grasping her hips as she settles fully onto me, the heat of her body surrounding me completely.

She moves slowly at first, her hands braced against my chest, her lips parted as if she can’t believe this is real. Neither can I. This isn’t like before—this isn’t just desire, just need. This is more. This is everything.

I guide her, pulling her down onto me, thrusting up into her, filling her completely. The pleasure is overwhelming, deeper than anything I’ve ever felt before.

“You feel perfect, baby,” I murmur, my voice thick with emotion.

She moans, her head falling back as she moves, and I watch her, memorizing every expression, every curve of her body. I thrust up into her harder, deeper, and she shatters against me, her release ripping through her as she gasps my name.

Her body clenches around me, dragging me over the edge with her. I hold her tight, grinding into her as I spill inside her, claiming her in every possible way.

***

I wake to the feeling of soft fingers tracing over my scars.

Isabella lies beside me, her bare body half-draped over mine, her lips parted as she studies each mark across my torso.

Her fingertip skims a long, jagged scar near my ribs. A knife wound.

“No more wars?” she murmurs, half-teasing, half-hopeful.

I chuckle, the sound low and rough, but I don’t answer right away.

I don’t believe in peace.

Not in my world.

But for now?

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