Page 89 of Made for Reign

“And do you know what you deserve, Princess?” My lips brush the sensitive spot just beneath her ear as my hands finally, deliberately move to the apex of her thighs.

“Tell me,” she whispers, her legs falling open in invitation.

“Everything.” I cup her sex with one large hand, feeling the heat of her even through the bath water. “Pleasure. Recognition. Freedom.”

Each word is punctuated by a gentle press of my fingers, barely applying pressure, just letting her feel my presence. Her breath catches, her body arching slightly toward my touch.

“You’re a fucking queen,” I continue, my voice dropping lower as I finally allow one finger to trace her entrance. “And it’s time the world treated you that way.”

She whimpers as I slowly push that finger inside her, her inner walls gripping me with a heat that surpasses the bath water surrounding us. I add a second finger, stretching her gently as my thumb finds her clit.

“Reign,” she gasps, her head pressing back against my shoulder.

“That’s it, Princess.” I establish a slow, deliberate rhythm, curling my fingers to hit the spot that makes her thighs tremble. “Just feel. Don’t think. Don’t worry. Just feel what I’m giving you.”

Water sloshes gently around us as she moves against my hand, seeking more pressure, more friction. I keep the pace unhurried and deliberate, building her pleasure with the same care I’d take constructing a foundation. Brick by brick, each one precisely placed.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” I murmur against her ear, my free hand coming up to cup one perfect breast, rolling the nipple between my fingers. “Opening for me. Taking what I give you. Such a good girl for me.”

The praise makes her clench around my fingers, her breathing becoming more erratic. I know her body now, can read the signs of her approaching climax like a book I’ve memorized cover to cover.

“Please,” she whispers, the word broken and desperate. “Harder.”

“No.” I nip at her earlobe, soothing the sting with my tongue immediately after. “Not harder. Deeper.”

I push a third finger inside her, stretching her further as my thumb continues its relentless circles against her clit. She cries out, the sound echoing off the marble walls of the bathroom.

“That’s it,” I encourage, my voice rough with my own arousal. “Take it all. Show me how much you want it.”

Her hands grip the edges of the tub, knuckles white as she leverages herself against my touch. I can feel her getting close, her inner walls fluttering around my fingers.

“You’re going to come for me,” I growl against her ear. “Going to come all over my fingers like a good girl. Going to let me feel how much you need this. Need me.”

“Yes,” she gasps, her head thrashing against my shoulder. “Yes, please, Reign, please?—”

“Now.” I press down firmly on her clit as I curl my fingers inside her, finding that spot that makes her see stars. “Come for me now, Princess.”

She shatters with a broken cry, her entire body tensing and then trembling as pleasure crashes through her. I feel it in the rhythmic pulsing around my fingers, in the arch of her spine, in the helpless sounds that escape her throat. I work her through it, gentling my touch as the aftershocks subside, but not stopping completely.

“That’s my girl,” I murmur, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder, her neck, any part of her I can reach from this position. “So perfect for me. So fucking beautiful when you come.”

She melts against me and giggles. “I don’t think I can move.”

“You don’t have to.” I shift, carefully maneuvering us both to standing in the large tub. Water cascades down our bodies as I lift her into my arms, one arm behind her back, the other beneath her knees. “I’ve got you.”

I step out of the tub, not bothering with towels yet, carrying her dripping wet into the bedroom. The massive king bed awaits, turned down by housekeeping while we were at the ceremony, soft lights creating a warm glow throughout the space.

She looks up at me, water droplets clinging to her eyelashes, her lips, the valley between her breasts. In this moment, she is more artwork than the painting that won her that trophy. She’s a living, breathing masterpiece that somehow, inexplicably, has chosen to be mine.

“What happens now?” she asks.

I lower her to the bed, her wet body immediately darkening the expensive sheets. Standing over her, I allow myself a moment to appreciate the view. Audrey Worthington, spread out before me like an offering, her eyes dark with desire and trust.

“Now,” I say, reaching for the buckle of my watch, the only thing I’m still wearing, “I show you what happens when you win.”

I stand over her, watching water droplets slide down the curves of her body, each one following a path I want to trace with my tongue. Desire coils tight in my gut.

“You’re dripping on the carpet,” she says, a smile playing at the corners of her lips as her eyes take in my naked body, lingering on my hard cock.

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