Page 89 of Given

“On your door?” he asked. His finger wandered lower…a lot lower. “No, Wife. Where you’re concerned, I come as I please.” He teased my clit. “And I come often.”

My breath shuddered out. Instant heat curled through me. My knees fell open of their own accord, making water slosh against the sides of the tub.

“Do I not?” he asked with a raised brow. His fingers continued stroking between my legs.

“You do,” I breathed.

His lips curved. He watched my face closely as his fingers continued their work. He pinched and teased and stroked. Rolled my clit between his thumb and forefinger until I gripped the edges of the tub and whimpered. He was so good at this. Since our wedding, he’d made love to me every night—and several times during the day. Each time was different. Sometimes, he took me the way he had on the platform, his big body stretched over mine and his hips pinning me to the bed…or the floor. Other times, he sat me on top of him and ordered me to ride. When we did it that way, his eyes never left my breasts.

“These are beauties, Given,” he’d rasp, his rings catching the light as he played with my nipples. “Bounce a little harder for me, princess.”

He still called me that, but it was different now. It was his name for me—one he used when he wanted to be wicked. Like when I sat beside him in the great hall and he stroked my thigh under the table. Or when he wrapped my hair around his fist and showed me exactly how he liked to be sucked. Or when he found me in the hallway outside our apartments and fingered me against the wall, his free hand pressed over my mouth. “Quiet, princess,” he’d say sternly, his eyes hard as he rubbed tight circles over my aching center. “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you?” Then he’d finish me, straighten my skirts, and lick me off his fingers.

He pushed one inside me now, and the memories of all the other times he’d done so made me clamp down hard. “Laurent…”

“Shhh.” He lowered his mouth to my arm resting on the edge of the tub. His tongue captured the beads of moisture on my skin. One by one, he licked them up, his pink tongue darting out. I could only watch, breathless, as he reminded me what his tongue was capable of. Because some nights he didn’t just fuck me. Some nights, he spread me out on his big bed and tortured me that way—gripping me around the thighs and lapping at my sex until I pulled his hair and begged for release.

He added another finger. The water was cooling rapidly, but sweat rolled down my neck. As a fierce, trembling need built between my legs, I whimpered. “Please…”

He lifted his head. Under the water, his fingers pumped in and out slowly. “Please, what?”

My moan was equal parts desire and frustration. “You know what.”

“Oh?” He kissed my arm. “Tell me what I know, princess. And don’t leave anything out.”

Heat blistered through me. We’d played this game before. His game. The one where he forced me to state in explicit detail exactly what I wanted him to do to me. It was a game he always won.

I curled my fingers around the edges of the tub. “I want…ah,” I gasped as he thrust his fingers deeper. Water sloshed over my breasts, the little waves keeping time with his movements.

His breath fluttered against my arm. “I’m afraid that’s not good enough.”

“I want you to fuck me. N-Not with your fingers. With your…”

“Say it.”

“Cock.” My face burned. Somehow, after everything, I still blushed. Maybe because some part of me knew he’d only revealed a fraction of what lay in store for me in his bed. Almost from the moment we met, he’d pushed past all my boundaries. Brushed aside all the years of ladylike reserve pressed upon me in Rolund’s court. I wasn’t the same Given who stood at the edge of the Rift. I wasn’t sure who I was anymore, but I didn’t recognize that person. Laurent had turned me into someone else entirely.

“Tell me where you want my cock,” he said. “If you’re a very good girl, maybe I’ll give it to you.”

I knew the words he wanted me to say. They were words he’d taught me—whispered behind the curtains of his bed. His fingers penetrated deeper, and my breath hitched as I said, “My pussy. I want your cock in my pussy.”

His eyes gleamed. “Well, who am I to deny a lady?” In one swift move, he stood and swept me from the tub. Water poured off me and splattered on the flagstones.

I gasped and threw my arms around his neck. “You’ll get the bed all wet!”

He dumped me on the mattress and climbed in after me. His long, nimble fingers flew down the buttons of his jacket, and the way he jerked it off and flung it aside sent a fresh rush of heat to my sex. He tossed his shirt after it, then made short work of his laces. His dick popped out, and he stretched on top of me. “You mean you’ll get the bed all wet. Spread your legs.”

I did as he said, my hips already rolling.

“So obedient.” He stretched my arms over my head. Laced his fingers with mine and pinned my hands to the bed. He nuzzled down my neck, licking at the drops of water. He kept going, dropping open-mouthed kisses on my shoulder and the sensitive skin under my arm. It was such an intimate, untouched area. Being Laurent, he didn’t let that stop him. He nipped the side of my breast, making me squirm. “Such a dutiful queen, getting so wet for your lord. They’ll hear your pussy all the way in the kitchens.”

My groan came from so deep in my chest I didn’t recognize my voice. “Please don’t make me wait.” Because I wasn’t sure I could endure it.

He swiveled his hips, making a small adjustment that had his tip prodding my opening. “Look at me.”

My breath hitched. He said it exactly the same as he had during our wedding rite. Now, as then, his gaze burned with possessiveness. It was like he wanted me to know who claimed me.

As if I could ever forget.

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