Page 49 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
“I need you inside me,” she begged.
“Not tonight,” he said gruffly. “Now come for me again.”
Sterling held onto his shoulders, her tongue dancing with his. The friction within her built, more and more until she cried out, her body trembling blissfully.
Winter halted Sterling, her chest heaving. “Return to your room,” he demanded. “That’s enough for the night.”
He hadn’t gotten off though… “But what about you?” she asked.
“I said that’s enough,” he whispered.
Frowning, Sterling peeled herself from his warm body, then retrieved her things from the balcony and got dressed. When sheslipped back into Winter’s room, he was propped up against the headboard, his shoulders hunching forward, and he didn’t meet her gaze.
As she opened the door, she peered over her shoulder. “You’re half your mother too. Not entirely wicked.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WINTER
Sterling’s words about Winter picked away at his thoughts ever since she’d said them. Yes, he was half his mother, but he was entirely wicked. Wasn’t he? He didn’t want to face her while he still felt so thrown off. Still, things were happening that required him to do it anyway.
The prince paused in front of Sterling’s bedroom door, took a deep breath, and pushed inside without knocking. She yelped at the sudden intrusion, then exhaled where she stood beside her bed.
“Put this on,” Winter said, tossing a dress at her before she could speak.
Sterling caught the fabric and frowned. “This doesn’t look like the garment the female wore at the last mating ceremony.” It was made of thick emerald lace between thin strips of brown leather which would hug each of her curves, leaving little to the imagination.
He smirked. “My father put together a dinner before the ceremony is to begin.”
“Ah, will we be eatinghumansagain?” The corners of her mouth twitched as she fought a smile.
“I could let the cook know if that’s what you want,” Winter drawled.
Sterling rolled her eyes and held up the dress to survey it. “How do I even put this on?”
A gap over her shoulder separated the sleeve and the strap, and his eyes grew hooded, his wolf begging to unleash, to sink his canines into her soft flesh, the night between them coming to him once more. He stepped closer and ran his finger under the collar of her tunic. “Do you want me to help you put it on?”
Sterling’s gaze met his, her expression unreadable. “Is that something you say to your harlots?”
He chuckled. “They can’t afford quality like this. And besides, harlots aren’t paid to put their clothing on, are they?”
She scowled. “I’m sure they can afford a nice dress when they’re receiving coin from a prince on a regular basis. Are you going to continue visiting them once we mate?”
He lifted her chin with a forefinger. “Envious?”
“If you continue, you won’t be the only one doing whatever you like. I may frequent the male brothel in town since I’ll be a royal with royal coin in my purse.” She smiled.
Winter narrowed his eyes. He wouldn’t allow another man to touch her, taste her. “Get dressed.”
As much as Winter didn’t want to attend the celebration dinner, he wanted to bring Sterling in the dresshis fatherhad chosen even less. He loathed the idea of anyone seeing her in this. She was for his eyes only. His future mate, whatever that would mean in regards to their relationship. But he couldn’t let a single wolfknowit rattled him—especially his bastard father.
He went out into the hallway and waited for her to dress.
A few moments later, Sterling opened the door, and his blood ran hot at the way the fabric hugged her breasts, the soft swells peeking out of the sides.
“You have terrible taste in clothing,” she said with a frown.
“You have my father to thank for your outfit, not me.” Winter leaned in close so the eavesdropping guards wouldn’t hear him. “Do what I say tonight and don’t defyanything.” His tone came out as a warning, and Sterling seemed to understand since she didn’t fight him when he grasped her upper arm to lead her down the hallway.
