Page 90 of Dangerous King
I don't know. I don't know anything right now. Only that this was perfect, and again, I don't want it to end. Ever. I'm greedy, I'm insatiable when it comes to him. One of my favorite movies isGone with the Wind, and right at this moment, Scarlet's famous phrase comes to my head:After all, tomorrow is another day. And that's what I'm going with right now.
I should feel spent, not… rewired.
She's curled against me, her breath still uneven, her leg draped over mine like she owns me now, and maybe she does. Maybe she always did. I press my hand to the curve of her lower back, anchoring her close. The sweat on our skin is cooling, our heartbeats are slowly syncing, and yet everything inside me is wide awake.
No woman has ever made me feel like this.
Not the girls I've fucked at parties. Not the women who were offered to me like business deals. I used to think pleasure was just that, physical, fast, and forgettable.
But Cat? She's not something I'll ever forget.
The way she looked when I first pushed inside her, her wide eyes, uncertain but so brave. She tried to hide the fact that she was offering her body like a sacrificial lamb, but I saw, and it touched a deep part inside me. One that has always only been reserved for my family. I don't think I'll ever forget the way her body opened for me, how she took everything I gave her and asked for more. The way she clung to me and made those broken, sacred sounds in my ear, like I was the only man who'd ever touched her. Because Iam.
Fuck. That truth hits like a punch to the chest.
I am her first.
In every way that matters.
And now, lying here in this bed with her soft, trembling body wrapped around mine, my cock still inside her, I want to be heronly. Possessiveness curls through me like smoke. I want to brand her. Fuck her again until she's sore and sleepy and completely mine. I want to chase away every ghost that's ever haunted her. I want to keep her safe, fed, kissed, loved.
Loved?
The word tries to root itself in my mind. I shove it aside.
Not yet.
But I do want her in my life. In my home. In mybed. Permanently.
I glance down, see her already slipping into a haze of exhaustion and satisfaction, lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks. So damn beautiful. So damnmine.
My hand moves down to her belly, flat, soft, delicate. The urge that hits me is as primitive as it is fierce. I want to see it rounded. Full. I want to fuck a baby into her. A daughter, maybe, with her eyes. Or a son who looks just like her and drives me insane with worry every day.
I've never seriously thought about children before. It was always… later. Someday. With a woman chosen by my family. A political match. A name, a ring, a cold ceremony.
But now?
I want to see her in white because I wanther, not because it makes a good alliance. I want her in my house because Ineedher there. I want to give her everything she was denied. Safety. Family. A future that's hers to shape, not barely survive. More than that, I want her barefoot in my kitchen with my baby on her hip and another in her belly. I roll my eyes.
Fuck. I'm not a man who dreams. Not like this. But I can't stop. I'm so far gone for this woman… it should alarm me. But it doesn't.
I nuzzle into her neck, whisper against her skin. "You were made for me, Piccolina. Every inch of you. And if fate has not already decided it, I will."
Her body hums against mine, pliant and glowing. She murmurs my name in her sleepy state, and I swear to God I've never felt more claimed in my life.
With great reluctance, I pull out of her. She needs to be cleaned. She's not used to sex yet; she'll be sore enough as it is. There's no need to add to it. She moans a soft protest, even more when I pick her up and take her into the bathroom, depositing her on the toilet.
"Enrico… what…" Sleepiness leaves her, and she looks at me, shocked.
I hate the thought of my seed pouring down her legs and getting pissed into the toilet, but I'm a selfish man, and the last thing I need is for her to get a bladder infection or anything else. Of all people, Izzy was the one who taught me that. I still remember how fucking uncomfortable I was taking her to a doctor—I didn't trust our doc to keep this off the records—to find out that she had a bladder infection after… having sex. Something else I wish I had never known about my baby sister. But she was too scared to go to my parents, and I had to honor her trust in me. We picked up antibiotics, and I lectured her on how lucky she was that a bladder infection was the least of her worries, while she rolled her eyes. The doctor, assuming that I was her boyfriend— ugh, I still feel like vomiting—had lectured me on how important it was for a woman toreleaseherself as soon as possible after sex. So that's what I'm doing now.
"You should pee," I tell Cat, while warming a hand towel underneath the water.
"I can't pee with you in the same room." She protests.
"Piccolina," I point out, "we just had sex. I very much enjoyed eating your pussy, and I'll do it again and again, so trust me, you going pee in front of me is nothing you need to worry about."
She glares at me, but nature forces its way, and the telltale sound of tinkling fills the room while her face turns beet red. "I really don't like you right now," she informs me, reaching for the toilet paper. I keep the chuckle rising up from my belly inside, knowing enough about women not to mess with her right now. I like her sassy side, though, a side that is coming out more withevery passing day as she feels more comfortable around me and my family.
