Page 150 of Filthy Royal

Maybe, just maybe, the darkness could erase their sins for just a little while. Strip away everything except this one essential truth: What was between them was unrelenting. All-consuming. Insatiable. Filthy. And never going away.

He slid his free palm beneath her shirt, his hand greedy as it coasted from her ribs to her belly to her hips, gently, deliberately, relearning every curve. Savoring the silk of her skin. So familiar and yet also so new.

His palm slipped beneath the skirt of her gown and reached the V of her thighs—and the ripped panties that offered no barrier at all.

She barely breathed.

He cupped her soaked pussy, feeling one hundred feet tall when she melted against his body.

Fuck, yes. He’d always loved the way she gave herself to him. Unrestrained. Fearless.

Last time, anger and darkness had been the dominant emotion ricocheting between them, their defenses up.

This time, his fortifications lay in rubble. All he wanted was to run headlong into whatever awaited them—good or bad.

He rubbed the flat of his palm against her slick core, creating just the right amount of friction as she stood, caught between his hips and his palm, unable to scream, unable to do anything but feel as he worked her as he wanted.

“You remember just how good I can make you feel even without the taming chain?” he whispered against her ear.

She trembled in response, and his control slipped another notch. The wetness coating his hand and her thighs made his cock as hard as a pike. Dominating her fired his blood as well.

He should have known this new Scarlett wouldn’t settle for that.

Before he could defend himself against it, her hand slid between them and over his leathers, her fingers curling around the thick stem of his shaft through the material and tugging upward.

Fuck. Him.

Damien shuddered, his head falling back as his eyes rolled, and it took every bit of his willpower not to turn her around, shove down his leathers, lift her up, and slam her onto his cock.

He wanted deep inside her more than ever.

Craved her courage. Her bravado. Her wild, reckless ferocity.

With a silent growl, he slipped a finger beneath the edge of her soaked panties and plunged deep.

She shook. Panted against his palm.

Damien worked his fingers against her clit faster, a little harder. While he might be a bruiser and the last Alpha virgin in the whole damned galaxy, he knew, without ego, that those factors also made him better with his hands.

From working his own cock to exhaustion at the thought of her, he’d learned when to use a light touch and how to add just the right amount of pressure. He used that knowledge now on his Scarlett; until she was the one rocking her tempting hips, begging him for more, spreading those sweet little thighs as wide as her position allowed.

Giving him everything he’d missed.

The scent of her pleasure drowned him, the softness of her skin everything he’d ever wanted.

The fact that they were squeezed into this contained space only made the friction between them all the more intense, the erotic need greater.

All they could do was rub against each other, take from each other. Two bodies writhing in tandem in the dark, propelled by desperate, unrelenting need and regret.

Her pleasure. Her submission. Her scent on his skin. Her fingers rubbing against the ridges of his cock through his leathers reminding him what it was to soar, to feel something besides grief and rage and pain. Those privileges were what he’d tried to survive losing but never succeeded. Those sacred rewards were all he’d lost, and all he was taking back.

“I… missed… this.” His whispered confession erupted before he could restrain it.

In the next heartbeat, her breathing changed, her cunt fluttering around his finger before clamping down tight. She came with a silent gasp, her body pressing so trustingly against his as she soared.

And wasn’t that what he’d always wanted?

To be the one who gave her what she needed?

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