Page 193 of Between Despair and Hope

“Because you knew it could only ever be you.”

“Did you ever picture anyone else?”

“You should know by now, Em. If I ever thought of anyone, it was always you. But I did imagine this,” he said. Dipping his head once more, he pressed soft lips to my collarbone.

“Kissing me?” I teased, my hands tracing his shoulders.

“Taking you. Right here. In this very spot.” His hands gripped my hips tight, and he nipped at my exposed skin.

“Tell me more,” I said, letting my head tip back as his mouth moved upward toward my neck.

“My mind is rather creative, but it always starts out with me kissing you as if I’ll never be able to again.”

“A good start,” I affirmed, tilting his head up with my hands and doing just that. My thumbs caressed his cheeks as I deepened our kiss. Sliding my tongue against his, he opened for me and matched my movements. Our kiss grew more persistent, desperation for one another clear. His hands drifted, lazily brushing over my back, pushing my hair behind my shoulders, caressing my ribs, always moving. My own slid down his neck to his shoulders, the movements in complete opposition to the frenzied kisses we shared. Heat built between my legs, and I could feel his hardened length between us. Gasping for breath, I pulled away before resting my forehead against his.

“And what comes next?” I panted.

“Usually one of two things,” he said, mischief in his crooked smile. “I either use my tongue on that sweet cunt until you scream my name or you take me in your mouth and make me forget mine.”

“I think we have time for both,” I said as I slid down off of his lap onto my knees, unfastening his breeches and tugging at his pants before he could get a word in. He lifted his hips with a soft grunt, and he unbuttoned his shirt as I tugged his breeches down. Moments later, the image of his strong, naked body on the throne of one of the most powerful kingdoms our world had ever known made my thoughts go erratic. My divinity heaved in my chest, a cool breeze whipping away shadows from my fingertips.

From my knees, I shouldn’t have felt as powerful as I did, but every great king required an equal partner. And he’d announced me as such by choosing me, I’d proved it by saving him, and the people had accepted it based on their cheers of approval in the streets the day before. If I had earned the unyielding love and the look he wore on his face, I was just as powerful on my knees as I was on the throne beside him.

I grasped him in hand, swiping the bead of moisture with my thumb as I swirled it over the thick head of his cock. He closed his eyes on a sigh, a smile curling up the edges of his lips. Both of his hands moved to grip the arms of the throne, and he leaned back, positioning his hips closer to me. I moved nearer, spreading his legs so I could sit between them. There was a balance here—in the vulnerability which came from submitting to one another in this way, we found power.

Sliding my hand down, I dipped forward, licking up the side of his length, sucking and tonguing a path up the evidence of his arousal. And when I took just the tip between my lips, he shuddered, exhaling roughly.

“Gods, your mouth will be my fucking ruin,” he growled, knuckles white as he held onto the throne.

Our eyes met, and I held his gaze as I took him deeper, my hand sliding down the length of him to work in tandem. He watched me, enraptured, eyes aflame with lust and life. Using one hand to tenderly tuck my hair behind an ear, his hips twitched upward, and everything between us boiled down to this—trust, understanding, and this gentleness existing alongside our desire and passion.

His soft sigh as he closed his eyes was enough to turn me single-minded toward bringing rapture to his body. We’d had such peace since our visit to Ravemont, and our few days back in Astana had already taken their toll on him. He was weary, and the responsibility of our roles weighed far heavier on him than they did on me. While I learned my place, attempting to understand how I could assist him with the kingdom, I would help release the tension in other ways.

I bobbed my head up and down, using my hand to help with the length of him. His breathing grew ragged, and his thigh shook. I massaged it with my free hand, and I felt the most exquisite roll of affection down the bond. It glowed bright between us, strong and shining. It had never been so firm, even before everything happened at the Cascade. Gentle fingertips traced my brow before he gathered up my hair with both hands, allowing a glimpse of the precious ink which announced my devotion.

“How are you mine? You’re so beautiful, I don’t even know what to do with you,” he whispered. I took him deeper until I felt the press of him against the back of my throat. He moaned, ending the sound with a curse, and he gave the most gentle press of his hips, clearly holding himself back. Still, I took him, swallowing, until I felt a tear run down the side of my face. Breaking free for just a moment to gasp a breath of air, I wiped spit off my chin before continuing my efforts, more forcefully than before, pressing him farther back with each downward motion. I picked up my pace, squeezing a bit tighter with my hand until he was cursing again. One hand still held my hair while his other grasped the throne once more.

“Divine hell, you’re so good. Sofuckinggood, Em,” he panted. “I need to taste you.”

But when he reached for me, I pressed my palm against his abdomen, pushing him back and holding him in place. He’d never finished in my mouth before, and I didn’t know why I wanted it so badly in that moment, but I did. I didn’t want there to be anything unknown between us.

“Em, I’m going to—”

“I know,” I said, popping him out of my mouth for a second before replacing it, continuing my effort in earnest. I wanted to taste him. And a moment later, his hands gripped the armrests, and he grunted, moaning my name as he spilled down my throat. I swallowed him greedily, gently running my nails up his thighs, shivers and chill following in the wake of my fingertips.

“It would seem I’m the one who did the taking,” I said, beaming up at him as he collapsed back into himself.

“Only a goddess should have this type of power, dear heart,” he replied, and I laughed, standing and wiping my mouth. His heart was still beating quickly as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “Come here—I want to look at you.”

I stepped between his legs as he leaned forward, lifting my nightgown at the hem and tugging it over my head. He surprised me when he wrapped both his arms around me, pressing a kiss between my breasts and holding himself there.

“Could die happy here. So soft,” he murmured, pressing kisses to my skin as he withdrew from me, sliding his hands down my sides, rough palms grazing my body. I felt his length twitch against the front of my leg.

“Already?” I asked, and he laughed.

“Almost. It doesn’t take me long with you,” he said, and his gaze turned searing as his hands slid down, thumbs tracing over my sides and stomach, the pressure of his fingertips changing as he found the smoother skin, scars of my body’s growth and change. His touch was lighter—reverent, almost.

“Did they hurt when you got them?” he asked, and the only thing keeping me from laughing aloud was his expression and the grave seriousness I felt down the bond. And as silly as it was for him to ask, I didn’t want him to be ashamed of such an innocent question.

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