Page 91 of Realm of Thieves

“This good?” I murmur as my hand slips down, down, sliding between her thighs to where she’s bare and warm and a little wet.

She nods, emitting another sweet sound that causes my cock to swell painfully against her. I work my fingers deeper into her slick space, her thighs parting slightly for me. My thumb finds her clit and I press the pad down, rubbing in slow circles in the way I’ve learned she likes.

“Oh,” she says, almost in surprise, and I reach back with my other hand, making a tight ring around my girth and pushing it in between her legs. She opens them wider for me and I press the head of my cock tentatively between her cheeks, enough to startle her and make her stiffen.

“Don’t worry,” I say, chuckling. “We can save that for another day.”

She relaxes slightly and I drag the tip down until it finds her wet and warm and I grit my teeth as I push myself inside her. From thisangle, her back to me, lying on our sides, I can’t help but hiss. “Fuck,” I swear. “You’re so fucking tight. Let me know if I’m hurting you.”

But she only pushes her hips back against mine, driving me in deeper. We both gasp at the same time, as if our lungs are forcing the air out before we become each other’s oxygen. That raw connection from the throes of last night, unwavering, open and shared, is back, tethering us together.

My eyes fall shut and I lose myself to her, rocking into her body, my hand at her breast, rolling her nipple between my fingers, my other stroking her clit. I bite her shoulder, I pinch at her until she gives that wanton cry of pleasure-pain. I groan into her ear, asking if I feel good, if she feels good, telling her she’s an elixir, stronger and sweeter than any magic. I give myself to her, in the hurried pumps of my hips, the sweat breaking between my chest and her back, the smell of sex in the room.

She comes, squeezing and pulsing around me, while her head arches back, a throaty, wild cry falling from her lips. I reach up and make a fist at the top of her head, pulling her head back farther, and then while she’s bucking against me, the tension inside me comes to a crescendo. My balls rise up until heat explodes from the center of me and I’m unleashing myself, coming hard inside her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I bite out through a low groan, the bed shaking beneath us as I slam myself deeper and deeper into her, as if I can be embedded inside her if I try hard enough.

By the time I’m finished—spent, my body limp against hers, our chests aching for breath—I feel like I’m in too deep with her in every which way.

I slowly pull out and she gives me a satisfied smile before she adjusts her head on the pillow again and lets out a deep, contented sigh.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper to her, kissing the top of her head, taking a second to revel in her honey scent before I climb out of bed.I drape the sheets over her, a show of modesty that seems to amuse her, and then pull on my pants. I open the door slowly, quietly, looking up and down the hallway. It feels completely still this hour of the morning, not a sound to be heard.

I walk across the hall to the bathroom. When I’ve done my business and freshened up, I step back in the hall.

And right into my uncle.

“Shit,” I swear, backing up. “You scared me.”

My uncle’s face twists venomously. That look of hatred mixed with self-satisfaction, like he’s ensnared me. I immediately feel uneasy.

“Spent the night with the prisoner, did we?” he says with a sneer.

“Jealous?” I counter. Probably the wrong thing to say.

He comes at me fast and I duck just in time, spinning around as he tries to grab me, bludgeoning the wall with his shoulder. A painting down the hall crashes to the floor.

“You’re jeopardizing your relationship with the princess!” he yells.

I eye the door to Brynla’s room and want to tell him to shut the fuck up, because she doesn’t need to hear any of this, but that will only provoke him. If I say anything at all he’ll probably open the door and drag her out of bed, and if he dared to lay a hand on her there’s no telling what I would do.

“What’s going on?” My father’s voice comes from down the hall.

Fuck.

I look over at him as my father slowly approaches, still in his plush morning robe, a cup of coffee in hand.

“Nothing, Father,” I tell him, straightening up. “Just having a discussion with your brother.”

“I caught him sneaking out of the bitch’s room,” my uncle says, jerking his thumb toward Brynla’s door. He can barely put his thumb away before I’m at him, hand around his throat and pressing him back against the wall.

“Andor!” my father hisses, but I barely hear him. All I can thinkabout is staring into my uncle’s beady eyes as I squeeze the life out of him.

“Call her that one more time and it will be the last garbage to come from your mealy little mouth,” I growl at him as he sputters under my grasp.

“Andor!” my father says, and he lunges for me. With a burst of strength he rarely displays, he grabs my arms and yanks me away from my uncle. “What in the goddesses has gotten into you?”

“She’s polluting his mind with her Eslander ways,” my uncle says, rubbing his throat and coughing with watering eyes.

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