Page 152 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

I swallow, moving backward.

“You like it when I hurt you.” He pushes my dress up again. “You’re going to come with my tongue inside you.”

My shoulder blades hit the headboard.

He goes back down on me, his tongue sliding through my folds. My back comes off the bed, pleasure spreading through me. The bite on my thigh pulses. He thrusts his tongue into me.

“You’re wicked,” I whimper.

He trades his tongue for fingers, and his mouth goes back to my clit, biting and sucking.

It doesn’t take long for the sensation to build and build and build.

He thrusts into me with his tongue again, fucking me with his mouth just like he said he would.

I shatter, moaning his name. It’s unbearable.

There’s a gleam in his eye.

He’s not finished.

I collapse back as two fingers slide into me, hitting my G-spot with deadly accuracy. I can’t control my hips, which begin to rock into him. My eyes close, and I lose track of where he is.

That’s my mistake.

He pushes in another finger, spreading me wider, and licks my clit. It’s so fucking slow, every stroke makes me tremble.

“Caleb,” I groan, trying to push his head away. It’s too much. My legs tingle.

“Give it to me,” he growls.

His finger, wet from being inside me, slips back, teasing my asshole. He pushes inside at the same time that he slides his tongue into me.

The sensation is overwhelming. Another orgasm crashes over me, and my legs shake. I keep coming.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, turning my head to the side. He just stuck his finger in my...

He smirks. “You can call me that, if you want.”

“Ass.” I’m panting. I’m pretty sure I can’t move.

“Wasn’t that worth waiting for?”

Who would’ve thought two weeks was a long time to go without sex? And not just sex—any orgasms. My stomach is still bruised, but it doesn’t hurt much anymore. The limited activity order has done wonders.

“Yes,” I manage.

He gets up and hauls me up, too. “Get naked.”

I gulp.

More?

I unbuckle my heels, more than happy to be rid of them, and my dress follows. It puddles on the floor around me. I throw it on the back of the chair.

Caleb comes out of the bathroom.

I go in and pee, then contemplate taking down my hair. It’s a little messy from the dancing and what just happened. Still, it’s not a bad look. I analyze the rest of my body. My stomach’s bruises are yellow and green, with some spots still light purple or red. There’s a bite mark on my breast.

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