Page 38 of Crowned For The King's Secret

‘Second drawer.’

She crawled over the bed and he watched her, her moves seductive and enticing. She came back to him with a sultry smile and a foil packet, which she tore open and handed to him with trembling fingers. He loved the way she seemed as overcome as he was.

‘Put it on me,’ he said. ‘I need to feel your touch on my body.’

‘I—I’ve never done this before, but okay.’

She’d been married, yet in so many ways her innocence astonished him. Even more, her trust, her willingness to be free with him.

‘Let me show you how.’

He guided her hand, cool against his overheated flesh. She began to roll the condom down and he gritted his teeth because the pleasure of this almost overcame him. When she was done, she sat back a little and cocked her head to the side. He let out a pained laugh.

‘Admiring your handiwork?’

She looked at him, her pupils dark, a shy smile on her lips. ‘Admiring you.’

The admiration went both ways, yet for him it was far more than physical. She’d overcome so much, and still retained such openness with him in the bedroom, when she had every reason to close herself off for ever.

‘There are other ways you can show your admiration.’

He sat up and reached out, placing his hands gently on her hips, guiding her as she straddled his body once more. What he wouldn’t give to thrust up into her now, but he needed to check, to ensure her pleasure. Ensure she was ready for him. He released her hips, slipping the fingers of his right hand between her legs. So slick and hot, he groaned. Victoria flexed her hips back and forth, riding his hand as he stroked her till her movements became desperate, out of control. He knew she was close.

‘I need to be inside you,’ he murmured, moving his hand and notching himself against her welcoming body.

‘Yes. Now.’ She began to sink onto him, throwing her head back, her mouth open in ecstasy.

The way she took him, the blush that spread from her throat to her chest and breasts, the beautiful pink tinting her skin, her nipples tightening as she sank lower, till there was no space between them... For a moment she didn’t move and neither did he. The elemental shock of the pleasure with her wiped him clean. Then she rose, and that pleasure heightened as she rode him, her thighs flexing, her movements liquid, demanding, as the prickle taunted at the base of his spine, a heaviness that told him he wouldn’t last long. He watched where they joined, how erotic it was. The ecstasy of the rise and fall of her, seeing himself slip from her body, slide back in. He flexed his hips, pushing up as she sank down, her pants music in the quiet air of the room. Her eyes glassy and unfocused. The pleasure an endless feedback loop of touch, sight, sound.

He smoothed his hands over her thighs, the skin soft under his palms. ‘Touch your breasts. Your nipples.’

She did as he demanded, plucking at them between her thumbs and forefingers. He had a better use for his hands right now. Sandro was about to fall over a precipice, and he wanted her to fall right with him. Her head dropped back, the hair spilling over her shoulders. He was there, almost there. So close the blood roared in his ears. He licked his thumb to wet it. Slipped it between her legs to her clitoris and circled it in the way he knew drove her wild. The moan that came from her lips was deep and low. Then her movements became choppy, uncoordinated. Her breath held and the first few flutters of her orgasm began as he lost control, the pleasure roaring through his body as she clenched and released around him.

She collapsed onto his chest as he wrapped her in his arms. They were still joined. Replete. No matter how many times they did this, it was like the first time. The way she unmade then remade him with her body. And he wondered how he’d ever lived without it.

CHAPTER NINE

VICDIDN’TWANTto move. She lay on Sandro’s warm, strong chest, wrapped in his arms. Safe.

Except that had to be a delusion. He wasn’t safe. He was anything but. From the first moment she’d met him, he was all risk. An attraction that sizzled through her veins and burned everything clean. All her worries, fears. They disappeared till she was left blank as freshly fallen snow. He was like the drugs she’d once been addicted to. Her eyelids drooped as their breathing came down to a normal level from the desperate gasping of their lovemaking. She softened. It would be so easy to go to sleep, to stay here and not leave. But that wasn’t their reality. She shifted a little.

‘I should deal...’ Sandro moved away from her, left the bed. She watched him walk into the en-suite bathroom, naked, the strong play of the muscles in his back, the firm backside that she’d gripped as he loomed over her. His confident stride. She should get dressed, leave, but her bones were as if they’d been made of noodles. It was okay to lie here a little longer, to enjoy the sensation of being truly satisfied, the scent of him in the bed, the spice of him mixed with the heady musk of sex. Already her body began priming for him again. Those pinpoints of desire that told her once was not enough.

It never was when they were together.

He returned to the bed and his smile when he saw her still lying there was soft and slow. Sandro was still half hard and the sight of him drove another spike of desire right through her. He crawled over to her and drew her into his arms again, stroking his fingertips over her back in a move that might have been meant to soothe, but only inflamed.

She allowed herself to melt into him, to pretend. The problem was, she wanted him. Wanted this to be real when all they could ever be was some fantasy.

‘Your husband. He hurt you?’

She stiffened. Of all the things they might talk about in this bed, that man was the last she wanted to invade here. She tried to squirm away. The memories were things she didn’t want to revisit.

‘Don’t run from this,’ Sandro said. His hand still stroked her, and she stilled. She didn’t run from anything, not any more. Running was what had got her into all the trouble in the first place.

‘Why do you want to talk about it?’

‘To learn about you. You know my worst.’

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