Page 78 of Made for Reign

The authority in his tone sends a fresh wave of heat through me. I comply immediately and place my palms against the rough bark. Reign moves behind me, one hand sliding to the nape of my neck, the other gripping my hip. I feel him press against me, already hard again.

“I’m not done with you yet, Princess.” His hand slides from my hip to the waistband of my silk shorts, and he tugs them down just enough to expose me to the cool night air. “I need to feel you around me. Need to remind you exactly who you belong to.”

His fingers dip between my thighs where I’m already soaked for him. “Always so responsive.”

With one powerful thrust, he fills me completely, drawing a gasp from my lips that he quickly muffles with his hand over my mouth.

“Quiet, Princess,” he warns. “Unless you want the whole house to hear what I’m doing to you.”

Each thrust drives me forward slightly, the bark rough against my palms, creating a delicious contrast to the pleasurebuilding inside me. His hand leaves my mouth and slides down to circle my throat.

“You feel that?” His voice is a harsh whisper against my ear. “That’s what’s been missing all week. This connection. This claiming.”

I can only nod, words beyond me as he sets a rhythm that’s both punishing and perfect. The danger of our situation—outside, exposed, the possibility of discovery—only heightens every sensation. His body covers mine completely, surrounding me with his heat, his scent, his presence.

His free hand slides beneath my camisole, palming my breast, fingers finding and pinching my nipple. The slight pain blends with the pleasure, pushing me closer to the edge. His teeth scrape my shoulder, not quite biting, but threatening to mark me.

“Reign,” I whisper, the only word I’m capable of forming.

“I know what you need,” he responds, his hand leaving my breast to slide down between my legs. His fingers find my clit, circling with devastating precision while he continues to thrust inside me. The dual sensation is overwhelming, my body tightening around him as I rush toward release.

“Come for me,” he commands, his voice strained with his own approaching climax. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

His words push me over the edge, my body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crash through me. I bury my face against my arm to muffle my cries, my legs trembling with the force of my orgasm.

He follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as he pulses inside me, his body rigid against my back, a low groan muffled against my shoulder. For several heartbeats, we remain locked together, both fighting to catch our breath, his arms now supporting me as much as pinning me.

Slowly, gently, he withdraws, turning me to face him. His expression has softened, the raw hunger replaced by something warmer, more tender. He helps me adjust my clothes with surprising care, his fingers lingering on my skin.

I collapse against him, my legs still trembling, as he pulls me down to sit beside him at the base of the tree. For a moment, we just breathe together, the night air cooling our heated skin. His thumb traces idle patterns on my hip, neither of us willing to break the silence that wraps around us like a cocoon.

A twig snaps somewhere in the darkness.

My head jerks up, body tensing as I scan the tree line. Even knowing it’s probably just a deer, the sound shatters our momentary peace, yanking me back to our precarious reality.

“Security makes another round in twelve minutes,” Reign murmurs. He checks his watch, then glances toward the house. “You need to be back in your room before then.”

I nod, reluctance and necessity warring within me.

“I know,” I whisper, already mourning the loss of his touch as I begin to shift away.

He nods, understanding without needing explanation. “Three more weeks, Princess. Then you never have to leave me again.”

The promise sends equal parts hope and fear through me. Three weeks until Ben’s fight. Three weeks until I end my engagement to Gio. Three weeks until I claim the freedom to choose my own path—a path that leads to this man’s arms and a future that belongs to me.

“Three weeks,” I repeat.

Reign helps me to my feet, adjusting my camisole and shorts with surprising tenderness. His hands linger on my hips, unwilling to break contact even as we both know I must return to the house.

“Remember what I said,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing against the silk covering my ass. “Panties. All the time.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply with a teasing smile, enjoying the flash of heat in his eyes at my words.

He kisses me one last time, deep and thorough, as if trying to imprint himself on me. Then, he steps back, creating space between us that feels like physical pain.

“Go,” Reign growls. “Before I change my mind and keep you here all night.”

SEVENTEEN

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