Page 82 of The Devil's Hunt

"Archer, I'm sorry. I shouldn't?—-"

“On the fucking bed, Mila,” he growled, grabbing my neck.

I lifted the hem of my skirt and sat down on the bed. I focused on a spot on my dress, afraid to look at him.

"Look at me," he commanded, and I did, my eyes pleading with him to understand my motives and justify my actions.

“I am sor?—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted me.

“But I am. I let my father get under my skin, and now everyone thinks we’re engaged, and your mom is making plans to take me dress shopping.”

“Goddamnit, Mila. I said don’t.”

“Don’t what, Archer? I humiliated you. I humiliated myself. I told everyone we’re engaged!”

“Lay back on the bed.”

I paused and stared at him, confused.

“Lay. Back. On. The. Bed,” he enunciated each word.

I did what he said.

“Spread your legs.”

I opened my legs. I felt his weight on the bed as he lifted my dress. I shivered when his warm hands ran slowly up my thighs, hooking into my underwear and gently pulling them down. He lifted one of my feet first, then the other, and set them and the vibrator next to me.

“You have the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen,” he said.

My heart pounded in my chest, turned on by his praise. He lowered his head between my legs, his breath hot against my skin as he began to kiss and lick my inner thighs. I whimpered softly as his tongue made slow, deliberate circles around my sensitive clit. I moaned loudly, arching my back, and gripped the bed sheets as my body began to tremble with pleasure.

“Archer,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from the intensity of myfeelings and the copious amounts of champagne I drank. “What are you doing?”

“I realized something tonight,” he replied, his voice slow and measured.

His tongue delved deeper into me, swirling around my sensitive nub, teasing every nerve ending.

“You did?"

“I realized I don’t want you to be sorry, Mila. That’s not what you’re meant for.”

“It’s not?”

“No.” His tongue danced around my clit, exploring every inch as I writhed beneath him. “You’re meant for me. And no queen of mine will ever apologize for taking what’s hers.”

His fingers slipped into me, finding my sweet spot, making me scream out in pleasure as he thrust them in and out, hitting just the right place.

“Wha—what does that mean?” I panted, my body trembling with need.

“It means, Mila,” he said, his voice low and commanding, “that you are mine, and I am yours. We were always meant to be together. Your father tried to interfere with that, and you showed him and everyone else that you are an unstoppable force. And I’m here, by your side, waiting to show you that you don't need him or anyone else. You only need me."

“You aren’t angry at me?”

“I’m angry at myself for not asking you to marry me the first time I laid eyes on you.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words. "Wait, are you saying...you want to marry me?"

---