Page 123 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
Gods, I’d do anything to soothe her, however ephemeral the cure might be.
Because I love her. Zeus help me, I love her.
And if this is what she needs to crawl out of a dark place, I’ll give it to her. I’ll fuck the sorrow out of her bones. I’ll replace every haunting trace of Alaric with a bruise that says mine.
I pull her down, impaling her onto my shaft.
Her mouth parts around my name, and I graze my thumb across her pebbled nipple. She rocks against me, rising until I’mall the way out of her and crushing back down, sheathing me to the root.
My hand travels down her stomach, down the seam between her thighs to the sweet bundle of nerves there. I press on it with my thumb and a hint of thunder.
“Oh, fuck.” Her high-pitched groan vibrates against my shoulder, and she nibbles the skin there in retaliation. “You’re awfully good at that.”
The water makes the electric current radiate outward, and my balls tighten, tickled by the charge. I grab the side of her face. This thing is moving fast. I need to see her face before I fuck her senseless.
Her round, heavy breasts fill my hands, and I take her nipples inside my mouth one at a time, the taste of them so fucking sweet. I could spend a lifetime worshipping her body, and still groan at the mere sight of them. “What do you want?” I rasp, lifting her off me and bringing her back down again, hard.
She fucking purrs. Her walls tighten, wrapping around my cock and holding me there. She craves as I crave. Loves as I love. An all-consuming, ruinous love.
Her nose bumps against mine. “I want you to make me see stars.”
I bite down on her earlobe. “Then I shall do what my queen commands, of course.”
Chapter 40
Catacombs
DEVI
Seth carries me out of the bathtub bridal style and spreads me down on the bed. The way he stares down at me, like I’m the most precious treasure he’s ever claimed, lights an inferno in my belly. His kisses are tender. His bites are possessive. Together, they wreck me in the best way.
He treats me like I’m his queen—yet makes it clear my body is his to worship, to unravel, to ruin with pleasure. It’s hot as hells.
He massages my breasts, rolling and teasing the peaks until I arch into his hands.
“You’re obsessed with them,” I tease.
“With good reason.” He chuckles, but it comes out low and husky, like he’s too busy imagining how to make me scream his name to bother joking. His hands stroke my hips, slow and deliberate, before he flips me onto my stomach.
“Now, I want you on all fours, witch. I want to give that gorgeous ass of yours the attention it deserves.”
He was careful in the tub. He’s not careful now.
And gods, I could cry from the relief. His filthy mouth. His rough touch. That’s what I need. For him to fuck the trauma out of me.
I crawl to my hands and knees, heat pooling along my ribs.
Seth kisses a fiery path down my spine, hovering above me, caressing every inch—my sides, my arms, my shoulder blades—before turning his attention to my rump. His magic coats my skin like a hot towel, warm to the point of near pain. He tests the limits of my patience like some wicked deep-tissue masseur determined to make me beg for more.
Then he shifts to his knees, grips his length, and presses the head to my clit, then lines himself up with my soaked entrance.
“Do you want my cock inside you?” he asks, pushing in an inch.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
I adjust my hips in response, taking him deeper, and we both groan.
