Page 57 of Of Song and Scepter
I’m not going to last long with her like this. Pressing through her opening, I sheathe myself inside her, andgods. She’s tight. The walls of her cunt ripple around me to accommodate my size.
I drink in the sight of her expression, the soft underside of her usual hard shell. Her cheeks flush with pink from heat and exertion. Her eyelids droop, then widen, as if she’s struggling to keep them in place. She throws her head back, eyes closing, and grips my arms with her claws.
“That’s my wicked girl,” I growl. Enna has shattered my control, taken it hostage. My body is her weapon, wielded for her pleasure. I have no choice but to rock into her, diving into her warmth.
My lips return to her neck, licking where her gills lay dormant beneath her skin. Her legs clamp around me. Her claws slide over my scalp, the soft pain pricking me to heightened awareness.
She shouldn’t turn me on so much—her spines, her fangs, her claws, signs of her hostile kingdom heritage should have sent me running back to my chamber. But they just make me want her more. I crave her danger like my gills crave the water.
I’m not going to last much longer. I slow my pace, moving in a deep, forceful rhythm.
“Look at me, Enna.”
Her eyes open, finding mine. “Yes,” she whispers.
I lean in closer, sucking her earlobe between my teeth. “Say my name. Tell me who’s fucking you good and deep.”
She rolls her hips, glancing away. I snarl, pounding into her, ramping my pace, as her warmth swallows me whole. I snake my arm between her back and the rock, cushioning her from the impact. She cannot escape me now. Pleasure builds deep in my stomach. Our skin slaps together, louder than the crashing waves.
“Say it,” I hiss. I need to hear my name on her lips.
“Say what, Your Highness?” She’s mocking me, even as I’m lost in her. Even as my spirit spirals boundlessly into oblivion, tethered to the sand by her alone.
I lean back, glaring at her as I withdraw my cock until just the tip remains inside. She wiggles, trying to lure me back in.
“Wrong answer, Wicked.”
Grasping my shaft, I drag the tip of my cock through her warmth, teasing her once again. Evidence of my own arousal seeps from the end, mixing with her slickness. I rub my cock against her clit. Her legs spasm around me, and she moans.
“Please,” she begs. “Soren, please.”
“That’s better.”
I drive my cock home, slipping inside her easily, now. Her walls clamp down tight, hurtling me toward the peak of my pleasure. Enna shrieks as the orgasm rocks through her.
“Soren,” she screams again, the sweetest sound I’ve heard in my life. “Soren!”
I cannot contain my pleasure any longer. My balls squeeze, and I come. My seed spurts inside her in thick, hot streams, and her name repeats endlessly on my lips.
Enna yanks my hair, pulling me down for a deep kiss. Our tongues fight for territory as she claims my mouth and I hers. The tide batters against the rocks, a stray wave caressing the tops of my feet.
Someone’s throat clears on the other side of the rock. “Your Highness?” Hugo’s voice comes loudly.
I clamp a hand over Enna’s wet mouth to quiet her moans. Our eyes lock, hers suddenly full of fire. I raise an eyebrow in warning. She sinks her teeth into my hand, and I hiss in pain.
“Forgive me for interrupting your”—Hugo clears his throat again—“morning spar, but this cannot wait.”
Wicked removes her teeth, licking the remnants of my blood across those fangs. My beautiful monster. She plants her hand flat on my chest, drops her legs, and shoves me away, arranging her features back into her signature look of apathy. Her rejection stings worse than her spines.
“Wait,” I whisper, reaching for her arm.
Those spines flare, in warning this time, and the brightness in her eyes snuffs out. She takes a step away from me.
“I’ll find you later. At the ball tonight.” I step after her, and she lifts her chin defiantly.
“And what would the princess think?” She glances at my deflating cock, and I follow her gaze. My skin is slick with the evidence of her pleasure. She’s left her mark.
When I look up, she’s gone.
