Page 37 of Gifted to the Frost King

He lets out a snarl, his eyes nearly swallowed by his pupils. I’m desperate for any pressure to relieve the ache between my thighs. His nostrils flare as if he can smell my desperate state. Giving my nipple one final lick, his growls against my skin.

“Last word, Dove. Get this right, and I’ll give you what you need.” His lips skim up my neck and settle against my ear. “Your sweet, little pussy is soaking me right through my pants.”

I gasp at his words, nearly combusting from his obscene observation. There is no point in denying it—he can feel the evidence of just how much I want him.

“Please,” I whimper.

His lips move at my ear as he whispers the word. Trying to unscramble my thoughts and focus on spelling is difficult, especially with him continuing to shape and taste my breasts. I writhe on his lap, knowing I need the release only he can provide me. The pleasure that will only come if I get this word right.

Dragging the parchment over to me with trembling hands, I write the word. My penmanship lacks finesse, but I’m beyond caring. I need this fire inside of me stoked.

“‘F’,” I sigh as he licks my nipple. “‘R’.”

His hands fall to my hips and work me against his hardness. My eyes flutter close at the sensation.

“Keep going, Dove. Or I stop.”

My eyes fly open.

“‘O’, ‘S’, ‘T’,” I read. He nips at my throat. “‘Y’.”

The King smiles up at me.

“Frosty,” I moan.

“Perfect.” His lips find mine. “Now, let me take care of you.”

Without warning, he lifts me from his lap and settles me on the table. My breasts jut into the air as he kisses down my throat before tasting each nipple. I am nothing but a quivering mess. His large hands skim over my sides before settling at the hem of my gown.

Gently, he raises it around my waist. Cool air kisses my stocking-clad legs. Soon, I’ll be exposed to him completely. While the idea is thrilling, something in me makes my legs snap shut. My heart pounds in my chest, and my face feels hot.

The King raises his head, worry swimming in his eyes.

“Dove,” he says, placing a gentle hand on my knee. “Is everything?—”

“Sorry,” I say, beyond mortified.

I’ve destroyed this perfect moment for no reason. Here I am, already half naked, desperately wanting to feel him everywhere, and yet I am acting like a scared lamb. Will he turn away from me? Someone as old as him is probably used to partners with more experience.

“Dove,” he repeats my name. His gentle tone makes me turn my head away.

“I—I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve never done this before, and now I’ve ruined?—”

“You haven’t ruined anything.”

His hands hook behind my back, and he gently pulls me up. Cupping my chin, I curse the tears burning in my eyes. I feel so ridiculous.

“I moved too fast—I’m just greedy when it comes to you. I’m sorry, Dove.”

He reaches for the top of my gown, but I wrap my hands around his wrists. Taking a deep breath, I look up at him. My earlier apprehension melts away. I am safe with him—I trust him.

“Touch me—you're the only male I’ve ever wanted to.” I place his hand on my breast. “I need more.”

His answering snarl sets my blood on fire. The King teases my breast while his mouth devastates mine. My hands curl into the front of his shirt and bring him closer to me. Our tongues clash in a frenzy, deepening this well of desire inside of me.

“Dove.” He whispers my name like a prayer. “Dove.”

“More,” I beg. “Please.”

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