Page 81 of Princess of Death

But it felt wrong, nonetheless.

I stepped away from her touch. “Leave me be, Cecilia.”

12

LILY

I felt him before I saw him.

Felt his presence like a fire at my back. A shadow over my body. A chill from the winter wind. I turned to face him, to see those dark eyes as they burned into mine. I’d barely reached him when he outstretched his big hands toward me.

I blinked, and then I was somewhere else.

I sank into the soft sand beneath my feet. Felt the cold turn into a moist warmth that coated the skin. The sound of flames was replaced by the waves that beat the shore. A breeze moved through my hair, but I didn’t feel a sting of cold.

He watched me absorb our surroundings with a deep calm in his eyes. His hands were still on me, and they cocooned me further, circling me like bars to a cage of a willing prisoner. Like he’d been thinking of me all day, he pulled me close and kissed my burning lips with his, angling his neck down so our mouths could meet.

A rush of excitement and desire hit me hard like a sword against a shield. Every moment we were apart was spent in angst,waiting for us to be reunited, for the return of peace and joy that only he could bring me. I’d never had a lover I missed when he was gone. Never had a lover I missed before he even left.

He carried me into the little hut he’d built with his bare hands, a sight I would have loved to have watched from the shade of a palm tree, sweat trickling down his back and arms. When I felt my back hit the straw mattress, I yanked his bottoms off like it was our first time or our last, when it was neither.

He undressed quickly then removed my clothing before he dominated me, folding me into a ball underneath him before he sheathed his big dick in my wet channel, wet because I’d been thinking of him all day.

His body was tight and firm over mine as he fucked me hard, one hand finding its way into my hair, his other gripping the back of my thigh as he gave me his dick like he’d never given it to me before.

“Wrath…”

His hand moved to my throat and held it.

I moaned because I liked it. I liked being possessed by a man I should fear with every fiber of my being. Liked knowing he could crush my spine or steal my soul with a flick of his wrist. And I also liked knowing he would never do any of those things—at least, not to me.

He suddenly rolled me onto my stomach and moved back over me, his dick returning to my slickness much easier now that his flesh was soaked. He entered me hard, his pelvis against my ass, and he ground me into the sheets, making my clit feel the pressure of his weight and the power of his thrust. He fisted my hair and tugged it back like it was reins and I was his horse.

“Oh fuck…” My hands automatically clutched the sheets on either side of me.

He pounded into me from behind, his mouth near my ear, his slightly labored breaths audible and sexy.

He already felt too big to handle, but at this angle, it nearly felt like too much.

But there was no such thing as too much dick, and I came around him with a moan that sounded more like a whine and a cry, the tears streaking down like the rivers of veins along his neck and arms.

He thrust into me harder when he heard me come, pounding to the finish line so he could fill me with the load he’d reserved just for me. His thrusts suddenly became abrupt and uneven, and his breaths were mixed with the moan that escaped his throat. He slowed until he stilled, his hand coming free of my hair that he left in tangles.

He slowly removed himself, making me wince because it was still a tree trunk whether it was full or not. He lay back on one of the pillows and pulled me into his chest, wanting me even if it was warm and he was covered in sweat.

He kissed me again, cupped my face and kissed me like what we’d just had wasn’t enough.

But it wasn’t enough for me either.

I moved on top of him, straddling a mighty oak, and kissed him with my ass in the air, his seed trailing down the inside of my thigh. He must have felt it drip down onto his flesh because he gave a moan, gripped my hips, and tugged me down to him.

His dick was already hard again, probably because it’d never fully softened, and I sank onto his length with ease, the arousal between our flesh so potent, we were slick like rain on the rooftop. I dropped as far as my body would allow.

He looked up at me like I was the sunrise after a storm. Like I was the first flower of spring. Like I was all he ever wanted. He propped himself up on one arm and grabbed my hip with the other, guiding me up and down his length at the pace he wanted—nice and slow.

I moaned for him like he hadn’t already made me come, because the dick of a god was the best I’d ever had. I rose and fell, sheathing him with more cream, watching him fall into the endless depths of desire that had already taken me.

“Xivin…” His skin was blotted red with the desire that burned deep in his flesh. He’d just blown my mind and my body with the way he’d taken me, and it was so enjoyable to do the same to him, to make him weak because it felt so damn good. “Fuck.”

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