Page 83 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

Ilya wasted no time reclining on the soft furs. One boot slid off, followed by the next, thumping onto the stone floor. I stood in rapture as she moved, watching each movement of her body as she worked. She’d lost weight since she’d been here, carving down her lush curves. It didn’t weaken my desire, but one day I wanted her healthy, happy.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I was a reason for her unhappiness. I’d caused it. Could I ever truly make her happy?

“What’s wrong?” Ilya frowned, sliding her exposed legs under her on the bed. My bed.

I faked a grin. “Nothing at all.” So much, but I’d worry about all that later. My origin, the emperor’s plans, Ilya’s goals. It could wait.

Her eyes hooded in return. “Good.”

She slid off the bed in a swish of silk, bare feet on the worn, woven rug. My breath hitched as she undid the ties of her dress over one shoulder, then the other. It fell to her waist, leaving only the thin underdress that did nothing to hide her pert, dusky nipples.

To taste one.Both.I groaned.

Soon. Very soon.

Another tug at the ties on her waist sent the rest of the dress falling to a puddle on the ground. No shy maid after all, Ilya slid back onto the furs and sent me a come-hither look that would haunt every erotic dream for the rest of my days.

I scrubbed a hand down my face. If I went to her now, I’d embarrass myself like a boy. “One moment.” I traced back to the balcony, pulling tight the heavy curtains meant to keep out the cold, and tonight, hopefully, keep in any sound. Candles came next, lighting more to make up for the lack of moonlight. All the while, Ilya watched my movement through the room. Each glance toward her reminded me all too well of how clothed I was, and the thin shell of fabric shielding her from me.

Silence had never been so thick, so heavy, so full of possibility and excitement.

Finally, I made my way to the edge of the bed and stood before Ilya where she reclined. “What did you call me the first time you truly laid eyes on me?”

She chewed her bottom lip and looked away as my shirt joined her dress.

“More horrifying than I imagined.” Her whispered reply was so quiet I barely heard her.

“And now?” I shucked my boots and reached for the ties on my pants.

“Terrifying. So much so that I—” Ilya licked her lips, her words breaking off abruptly as I shed the rest of my clothes. “I shouldn’t want you, but I do.”

“Good.”

Ilya scooted back across the sheets as I joined her. The bottom hem of the underdress riding up her thighs teased me, barely covering the undergarment below. It had to go. They both did.

“I want to see you, all of you.”

Without a word, Ilya came to her knees, the small mirror opposite of my form. The underdress fluttered away, forgotten, as I took in her bared breasts. Her underwear came next, inching down her thighs, revealing dark curls.

Fuck.My cock pulsed. Ready. Needy.

“Lucien,” Ilya gasped as I cradled her down onto the sheets.

“My Ilya,” I whispered before reclaiming a peaked nipple with my mouth.Delightful.Even better than I imagined.

My hand found the juncture between her legs, picking up where I’d left off.

Sliding one finger inside her, I relished the feel of her wrapped around me. My cock prodded her leg, aching to replace my hand. Ilya’s fingers slid through my hair, over my skin. Each small whimper and cry I elicited from her were gifts from The Four.

Ilya squirmed under my touch. Soft nails grazed my skin as she rocked against my hand and wrapped her legs around me. She writhed on the sheets, clung to me, practically climbed me like a tree. My head spun, lost in the feel of her and her olive flower scent that invaded my senses like the most skillful invader.

“Please,” she whimpered.

I thrust my fingers harder, deeper. “What do you want, Ilya?”

“You. Inside me.” She cried out as I teased the taut nub between her legs. “Now!”

Deny her? Never.

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