Page 144 of Artemysia
She snores slightly, her cheek on my bare chest, so I adjust her head back so she can breathe freely.
Gods, she’s gorgeous. She has a strength I’ve never seen in anyone—a strength I do not even possess myself.
She’s everything.Myeverything.
I can’t keep my eyes open any longer, and her steadybreaths lull me to sleep the way the rushing West River used to do in the springtime when I lived with Marije, in the days before Galke and the Academy turned me into a killer.
We skip breakfast, opting to stay in bed to take turns fucking each other into the mattress. There’s incredible sex…and talking…and sex again. The flood of emotion every time I hear her say “I’m yours,” or “You’re everything,” is just as good as the explosive releases I have when her tight little pussy clenches around my cock.
I tell her that, and she blushes at my vulgar words.
“I feel the same way.”
Her little throaty sounds vibrate into me, her fingers wedged in my hair as I kneel by the bed to go down on her again.
“And you liked it when I was in charge last night,” I remind her.
“I did. But I absolutely love telling people what to do. Don’t deny me that.”
“Fine, we can take turns.”
“Okay then. My turn. Fuck my mouth, Riev. Deep,” she says, yanking me up by my shoulders.
She grins innocently at my wide-eyed expression as she lays back, asking for me to straddle her face with a flick of her palm. “I can be obscene too.”
I never knewonewordcould get me this hard, but I’ve only ever heard her sayeffin’ora-hole. So when she says the real thing—fuck—it unhinges me.
It’s delicious, the way it slips from her lips.
“Your dirty mouth needs my cock? Open wider, or it’s not going to fit.”
“Don’t be gentle.”
She grunts softly as she takes my full length down her throat, her eyes watering as I do as I’m told. I drive into her relentlessly, because every time I slow down, she whines a complaint and grabs my ass for more.
Good fucking gods.
A midday cannon announces the royal luncheon we are supposed to attend, according to the invitation secured by the Syf.
Delphine mutters something about being hungry, but she stays buried face down in the blankets, naked.
I lovingly pat Delphine’s butt and press a kiss to her shoulder before I roll off the bed to go wash up.
When I’m done, Delphine and I exchange a kiss on her way into the bath. She lingers to nuzzle my neck, sniffing so deeply that it tickles, and tells me I smell really good.
All of this couldn’t be more perfect, and I make it my new ambition in life to always wake up somewhere near Delphine so she will greet me like this in the morning after a shower. I’m not even worried that I’m thinking such deranged thoughts, because deranged people deserve to have goals, too.
I’m pulling on my trousers when a hesitant tap of the door is accompanied by a low male voice.
“Delphine,” he says. “Open the door. It’s an emergency.”
I’m already at the entryway when Delphine, in a towel, peers out of the bathroom.
I open the double doors to reveal Prince Toryl in a cream linen suit, appearing as regal and grim as ever.
“Riev,” he says neutrally, looking down his long, fine nose at me.
“High Lord,” I say with as much disdain as I can fit into two short syllables while imagining crushing his skull with my bare hands.
