Page 87 of The Stolen Kingdom

Maris’s smirk deepened as she cupped the back of Valda’s head, her fingers slipping into the freshly cropped strands. She tugged sharply, forcing Valda’s head back just enough to keep her teetering on the edge of control.

“Patience, darling,” Maris whispered, inspecting her handiwork. The pull of silky locks between her fingers sent a thrill coursing through her veins. “Thank the gods I am a fair queen, darling.”

Valda finally released the breath she’d been holding, her honeyed eyes lowering to gaze at her prize. The low, shuddering moan that escaped her lips made Maris’s smirk widen with delight.

“Please,” Valda said, her voice breaking. “Please, let me…”

“Let you what?”

Valda’s gaze flicked back up to meet Maris’s, raw and desperate. “Let me taste you, Seashell. I need to taste you again,” she said, her words trembling. “I need to make sure—“

Valda’s face inched closer, her warm breath brushing against Maris’s thighs, sending sparks across her skin. But just as she thought she might get what she craved, Maris’s firm hand pressed against her cheek, pulling her back.

“Make sure of what?”

A sharp hiss escaped Valda’s lips, her frustration palpable. Maris knew Valda had the strength to take what she wanted in seconds, yet she didn’t. She stayed on her knees, yielding. For now, Maris had total control.

“You know what I want, Maris. Please.”

“Are you begging?” Maris asked, trying to hide her disbelief, but she knew Valda could look past her serious facade and see the doubt in her eyes. As the other woman’s piercing eyes crumbled her walls, Maris could do nothing more than cup her face, look through her and dip her gaze down to her lips trying to escape the inquisitorial eyes.

Valda bunched up the oversized tunic over Maris’s supple thighs, her fingers trailing lightly, leaving a path of goosebumps on Maris’s heated skin. She leaned in closer, her breath mingling with Maris’s trembling exhales.

“I am begging you, Maris,” Valda whispered, sealing her plea with a kiss that burned like fire.

Maris’s hands shot up, gripping Valda’s face tightly as she deepened the kiss, tilting Valda’s head to take everything she offered. Valda didn’t resist—she surrendered entirely, her hands deftly pushing the tunic higher and higher. The fabric slid over Maris’s soft stomach, her heavy breasts, and finally past her shoulders before it fluttered to the ground, forgotten.

Panting, Maris tightened her hold, pulling Valda’s lips back to hers in a desperate kiss. She parted her lips, her tongue slipping inside, tasting the warmth and need that radiated from Valda.

This kiss wasn’t like the one in the cave. No, this was molten, blistering with intensity. As conflicted as Maris felt, she couldn’t deny the fact that she burned for Valda.

Only Valda could set her ablaze like this. Only Valda could soothe her burning ache.

No one else.

Breaking the kiss, Maris opened her eyes to see Valda staring back at her, brows knitted together in bewilderment and pain.

Maris’s heart clenched as she realized how much she was hurting the woman before her. The pain etched in Valda’s features—she had caused that.

“Maris, please,” Valda begged, her voice cracking as her head dipped lower in submission. “Please, Seashell, let me make you come.”

Maris’s voice trembled as she swallowed hard, leaning back in the chair. Her grip tightened on Valda’s dark hair, guiding her lower, until she was a mere breath away from where she wanted her to be.

“Make me come, Valda.”

At the first stroke of Valda’s tongue, Maris’s eyes fluttered shut, her breath hitching as her lips parted in a moan. Valda’s touch was deliberate, slow, and devastating. Her tonguedipped and teased between Maris’s folds.Gods, ithadbeen too long. Why in Tartarus did she torture herself for so long?

This is what she needed. Valda, kneeling between her legs, her head bowed as if in worship, her hands firm and possessive on her thighs.

She needed her mate.

A low groan escaped her as Valda’s tongue trailed a languid path along her wetness, savoring every inch. Maris felt herself dissolving, her walls crumbling into nothingness as Valda’s firm hands gripped her thighs.

Valda shifted, hooking her hands under Maris’s legs and lifting them. With a firm press, she folded Maris’s knees to her chest, positioning her so her ass perched on the edge of the chair.

Stiffening her tongue, Valda plunged into her opening, and the sound that escaped Valda was pure, unadulterated music. Maris could make out Valda’s moans as their panting and mewls mingled in the bedroom’s silence.

Maris’s eyes fluttered open, and when she looked down, she saw Valda worshipping her, stroking her pussy lewdly, eating her out as if she was the most exquisite fruit in existence.

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