Page 80 of Kiss the Filthiest King

Hearing them now takes me back to that, to the night with Loch that he doesn't seem to have any desire to repeat. Frankly, I'm not certain my body could take it if he wanted to, so I certainly didn't approach him for more.

"Would you like some?"

I blink. "What?"

"Pleasure."

I stare at the man across from me, as usual, dressed in reinforced leather that does little to hide the sculpted shape of his tanned flesh. He's gorgeous. Not like Loch, the epitome of a delicate fae prince; there's something rougher, manlier with him. That makes me wonder just how much he could break me.

I swallow. "You…want me?"

I would never have guessed. He doesn't flirt, and if he stares at me, I assumed it was because he was trying to make sure I don't step the wrong way and die.

Maybe he doesn't really desire me, but the constant sounds of fucking are having the same effect on him as they do on me.

"Certainly," he assures me, ever proper and calm.

"It's probably not a good idea. I mean, to mix business with pleasure, so to speak. We're going to spend a lot of time together if you keep protecting me. It would be stupid if we had a falling out…"

"That logic didn't apply to Loch."

I snort. "I never liked Loch in the first place."

"And you like me?"

I nod eagerly.

I like him a lot. Out of everyone here, he's truly the only one I can even speak to without feeling stupid.

"Well then, I'll have to soothe my aching heart with that cold comfort."

I snort, both at his cold delivery and preposterous claim.

He doesn't really care. His expression isn’t changing at all.

And maybe, just maybe, that's why I absolutelycoulddo this with him, and go back to being friends.

"Or," I say, "you could ignore everything I just said, and give me as much pleasure as I can take."

He's still and silent, those golden eyes set on me. Then he moves so fast all I can see is a blur until he reappears at my feet, parting my thighs and sliding my skirt upward. "Very well, then. Let's make your scream rival theirs."

Holy fucking shit. He parts my panties with his teeth before attaching his mouth to my clit, sucking it.

"Oh, fuck!"

"In a moment," he assures me, languorously running his tongue along my folds. Two fingers slide inside me, curving just right. "Oh, my. You're positively gushing."

In truth, I've been wet all evening, given the soundtrack we have to deal with, but the mere sight of him right there, on his knees between my legs would have had me soaking in no time.

Caenan fingers me like he does everything: calmly, methodically, without so much as a change in his expression. But his eyes. His golden eyes, never letting me go, seem to burn.

"So very close," he notes, when my walls tighten around him, soaking him even more. He's pushing against my clit, circling it with his thumb, like making me lose my mind is a clinical, precise job. "How much do you want release, lovely?"

"Please," I beg.

"That's not an answer. I asked for a quantifier. Are you a little desperate? Moderately?"

"I…need it. I need it so, so much," I croak between whines.

---