Page 23 of The Princess and the Pack

“We can start slowly. I want to take my time and enjoy you,” Cillian says, smiling down at me with softness in his gaze.

Slowly may very well kill me. Already, the imprint of him against my stomach has heat rising within me. This insatiable ache has plagued me this past year, but that won’t stop me from allowing my alpha to savor me.

“Kiss me,” I breathe, eager to dive back into the pit of flames.

“With pleasure,” my alpha growls.

As Cillian’s mouth settles on mine, one of his hands moves to the nape of my neck, gripping to hold me steady. The other rests above my head to shoulder some of his weight, though I would gladly be smothered by the mass of my alpha.

He smells so wonderful, like wild sea-kissed winds off the stunning Namarian coastline. It calls to something vital within me. A need to feel free and unfettered by the rules of my birth.

When Cillian deepens our kiss and his tongue finds mine, an errant thought creeps in. Wouldn’t it be grand—sodelicious—if I could enjoy the king’s mouth in tandem with another’s elsewhere on my body? What if Oran were here to kiss my neck and whisper more of the filth he offered so freely before?

I never believed such talk would make my blood run as hot as it had, but I was sorely mistaken. What I wouldn’t give to have him whispering in my ear about how much he and Cillian crave me. Of how much they wish to please, to touch, to taste me.

Perhaps we could also make room for another; a very large, watchful alpha who would be all too pleased to wait his turn to have me.

Gods, my skin is on fire.

Cradling my alpha tightly between my thighs, I moan as the hard press of his wanting slides along the seam of me. My mate is insistent now, letting his hand trail down my body to explore the expanse of my sweat dappled skin. He groans,whimpers, as he rocks against my sex, slick in anticipation to receive him.

Does he feel this heat? How can he stand this ache?

“Fuck, Ivy, your scent. It’s so—fuck. I can practically taste you.”

The wet sounds of him thrusting against me, his lips as they move to my neck—all kindling to the fire enveloping me. I’ve never in all my life felt something so consuming, so euphoric as this. A bright and beautiful bliss bubbles in my chest, bursting forward until I scream.

The sound itself is terrifying, but Cillian’s eyes are wild with the realization that he’s given me such intense pleasure. “Omega. Did you just?—”

“More,” I cry. The slow canting of my hips is pathetic but I don’t care. I want to feel him rubbing against me.

Lust has taken hold of my mind, and I’m far too tempted to turn over and present for him so hefinallyfucks me. Is it normal to feel this manic? Should I be ashamed?

Damn it all, I don’t care so long as it gets me stuffed full of my mate.

“Cillian, more. Please, please, please.”

Pitiful,pitifulpleading as my breaths come quicker, my heartbeat a storm of thunderous pounding.

“More?” he rasps, rambling on. “You’re so very wet, omega. So slick and ready, aren’t you? Do you want me to take your sweet cunt now?”

Cillian’s words continue to spill—unfettered—unable to be contained. “Should I prepare you more? Use my fingers, my mouth—kiss you everywhere?”

That sounds divine, but every second he’s not inside me is another that I’m free-falling into a chasm of untenable fire. “You were made for me,” I tell him. “You won’t hurt me.”

My mate groans, consumed by the reminder of what we are to each other. “You can handle me, omega? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes! Just—please.”

Some other time he may indulge me in whatever manner he desires. But now, I need him like I need my next breath.

Cillian grunts, rising up on his knees like some god-king assessing his conquest. His pupils are blown out, his eyes now focused on the rapid heaving of my breasts, and the way he licks his lips nearly has me begging for his tongue on me after all.

“Tell me if you don’t enjoy something, my heart. I’ll stop right away.”

Gods, this man, this darling alpha and his care for me—I’mmadfor him. For his sweet letters, his scent, and the way he looks at me like I’m his entire world. How could I resist these stirrings of love?

My first love.

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