Page 45 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

A wicked grin crosses my face, my eyes flashing with satisfaction.

“Good girl,” I murmur, my thumb brushing over her pulse, feeling the rapid beat beneath my fingers. “Now, don’t hold back. I want to hear every sound you make.”

Before she can protest, I pull her against me, my fingers fisting her hair as I grip the back of her head. My mouth crashes into against hers, demanding and unapologetic—there’s nothing gentle about it. My other hand roam over her body, rough and possessive, exploring every inch of her as I brand her as mine.

I feel my fingers slip under her shirt, tugging it up over her head, and she raises her arms, letting me strip her bare.

My gaze travels over her skin, dark with desire, and she bites her lip.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I murmur, my voice rough, my eyes drinking her in. “Every inch of you.”

I trail my hand down her thigh, my fingers brushing along her skin in a way that makes her body ache for more. Slowly, carefully, I slide my hand between her legs, my fingers tracing over the fabric of her panties, pressing just enough to make her moan, her hips arching into my touch.

“You’re already so wet for me,” I murmur, my voice a dark promise. “Tell me, Isabella—do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you?”

She shakes her head, breathless, unable to speak as my fingers continue to tease her, sliding over her clit with a pressure that’s just enough to drive her wild but not enough to satisfy the need building inside her.

“Oh, I think you’ll learn soon enough,” I say, a dangerous edge to my voice as I slip my fingers under the waistband of her panties, tugging them down.

I sink to my knees in front of her, my hands gripping her hips as I slide her panties off, and I feel her breath hitch as I look up at her, my gaze dark and unrelenting.

“You’re going to let me do whatever I want, aren’t you?” I ask, my voice a low growl, my hands sliding up her thighs, spreading them wider.

She nods, barely able to breathe. I can sense her heart racing as I lean in, my mouth brushing against her thigh.

Isabella trembles beneath my hands, her body warm, pliant, but so goddamn stubborn. Her breath is uneven as she stares up at me, caught somewhere between defiance and surrender.

“Say it,” I murmur, my voice rough against the shell of her ear.

A pause. Her body tenses, her nails digging into my shoulders as she fights the words, fights me. But I won’t let her win. Not here. Not now.

I tighten my grip, fingers wrapping around her thighs just enough to feel the heat rising beneath her skin. Her breath stutters. Her lips part.

“Yes,” she finally whispers, the word barely escaping her lips, sending a sharp jolt through me. My heart pounds as I lean in, my mouth grazing hers, a slow tease that leaves us both breathless.

And then, finally, my mouth finds her, my tongue sliding over her clit with a slow, deliberate pressure that makes her gasp, her hands tangling in my hair as I begin to work her with a skill that leaves her breathless. I move slowly, my lips and tongue teasing her, building the anticipation until she’s a trembling mess, her body aching for my touch, for the feel of me.

“Good,” I murmur, my mouth moving closer, my breath hot against her skin.

“Oh, God,” she moans, her hips lifting to meet me, her body responding to every flick of my tongue, every caress.

I know exactly what I’m doing—driving her higher, winding her tighter, until she’s teetering on the edge, desperate for release.

“You like that, don’t you?” I murmur against her, my voice a dark, wicked whisper as I slide a finger inside her, my gaze flicking up to meet hers.

“I want to feel you come on my tongue, Isabella. Show me how much you want it.”

My words are only answered by a low moan, and I sense the pleasure building, reaching a fever pitch as I work her, my fingers moving in and out of her with a rhythm that drives her closer and closer to the edge. Her moans fill my ears as she tightens her grip on my hair.

“Oh God, Dominic,” she moans, “Fuck.”

The filthy word from her mouth sounds like music to my ears as her moans get deeper and deeper. And then, finally, she shatters, her body convulsing, pleasure crashing over her as shecries out, her hands clutching at me as she comes, the release intense, overwhelming.

I rise, gripping her waist as I lift her, and I can feel the strength in my arms, the hard planes of my chest pressing against her as I lay her back against the leather sofa, the books we knocked over scattered around us.

She’s still bare, her skin flushed, glowing in the dim light of the library. Her breath is ragged, her lips parted, and fuck, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

I’m still fully clothed, and the contrast between the rough fabric of my suit and the soft warmth of her bare skin sends a thrill through me, making me ache for her, for the feel of her wrapped around me. And I’m so hard, I can barely keep it together.

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