Page 36 of Gifted to the Frost King

“Then be prepared to have sore lips because I’m getting them all correct.”

Curling a lock of hair around his finger, his eyes glow brightly.

“I never said the kisses had to be on your mouth. You’ll get to choose the placement.”

I remember the feeling of his lips on my jaw and neck. What will they feel like lower? Along the sensitive skin of my chest or even lower still. I hardly suppress my shiver at the thought. I’m getting ahead of myself.

Gripping my quill, I dip it in the ink and grab a fresh sheet of parchment.

“Let’s begin,” I declare.

“My eager girl,” he whispers. “Very well. Spell ‘sat’.”

I wrack my brain for the letters before gently guiding my quill over the page. Once I have them, I point to each one and spell out the word. His smile is brilliant, and he leans closer. His warm breath tickles my lips.

“Excellent, Dove. Now, where would you like your first kiss?”

Being in control is appealing. It’s too soon to label this thing between the King and me. All I know is that I want his kisses. I want to spend time with him and explore this desire that’s manifested inside me for the first time. Jon Nine-Fingers made my skin crawl—made me consider a life of celibacy rather than take him as a husband.

It’s as if all those years I spent guarding myself against his advances have melted away. I am free to explore these intense feelings with a partner of my choosing. I never thought the male I wanted to do said exploration with would be the Frost King, but life is strange and unpredictable.

“My mouth,” I breathe as he nuzzles against my ear.

Pulling back, my eyes fall shut as I feel his hand cup my cheek and bring my mouth up to meet his. It is a feather let touch, thebarest brushing of skin, yet my body is on fire. It is over far too quickly, and I pout in frustration.

“The harder the word, the longer the kiss.”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“Give me another one then.”

“As you wish.”

For the next half an hour, we continue in this way. He gives me short words—two or three letters—and I spell each one correctly. Then he rewards me with his lips, which I’m quickly becoming addicted to. He presses them to my cheeks, my forehead, and both eyelids. He trails them down my jaw and returns to my mouth more than once. Each brush of them leaves me breathless and wanting more, as do his teasing touches along my sides and legs.

I’m a whimpering mess by the time I finish spelling my name.

“This is the longest word yet, Dove. Where do you want it?”

His voice sounds rough. After each kiss, his eyes darken as if something primal is trying to claw out of him. Is it wrong to say I relish watching it? Glancing down, I can see that I am not the only one enjoying this task. I may not have much hands-on experience with males, but I am not ignorant of what occurs during physical intimacy.

The thought of the two of us naked, fitting together, runs through my mind. These thoughts threaten to sweep me away, and I’m tempted to let them. I want him—it’s as simple as that. Taking his hand, I place it on my chest. It rests just above the exposed swells of my breasts. My skin tingles at the soft touch. A growl rumbles through his chest as his fingers tighten.

“Here.”

His hand skims over my shoulder before cupping my throat. White hair grazes my chin as he lowers his mouth to my chest. His warm lips kiss the tops of my breasts, and my head fallsback. The gentle grip on my neck tightens slightly. My eyes threaten to close, but I force them open.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs before kissing the top of my breast again. “Delicious.”

He reigns kisses from my collarbone to the neckline of my gown. My hands find his head and anchor him to me. Wetness coats my inner thighs, and I squirm in my chair. It’s not enough—I need more, or I’ll die.

My left hand leaves his head to hook into the front of my gown. With a swift pull, the top of my gown falls away, leaving my breasts bare to the room. The air is cool, and my nipples instantly harden. Frosty’s eyes blaze like two blue flames as he gazes at me.

“Cruel, wicked thing,” he mutters before his hand slides off my throat to cup my breast.

He roughly molds one in his hand before attacking the other with his mouth. He teases my nipple with his tongue, gently biting it until my muscles grow taut. He lets it go with a pop and gives the other one the same treatment.

My mind races. Never in my life would I consider myself bold, and now I’m watching through half-closed eyes as the Frost King feasts on my bare skin. He pulls me closer, plucking me from the chair and settling me on his lap. His hardness presses into me, and I wriggle atop it.

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