Page 36 of The Royal Curse

“How’s that?” he asked, and when I let out a soft, helpless whimper, he ground his hips into me and made me moan and wriggle and dig my fingers into his arms hard enough to bruise him. Somehow, I doubted he minded. “Answer me, Your Highness.”

“You can’t,” I choked out, “make me tell you how you—how I—”

He angled his hips back, pulling an inch or two of his shaft out of me, and slammed back in, and I wailed and shuddered and collapsed against his chest. “I think I can make you,” he said, and did it again. And again, until my ankles ached with the force of how hard I had to hold on to him, until unbearable pressure built in my cock, straining, so close—

And then he stopped.

My whole body pounded with the force of my heartbeat and his, and my breath rasped painfully.

But Andreas held perfectly still, even though his chest rose and fell quickly against mine, and sweat sheened his temples.

“Tell me how I feel in you,” he said, voice a hard, low command. “Tell me or I won’t finish. I’ll pull out and get myself off.”

Oh, gods, I wanted that almost as much, Andreas standing in front of me and stroking his own massive cock, and maybe he’d let me kneel in front of him while he—I used all my strength, lifted myself up on him, and forced myself back down on his cock, the dressing table thumping and banging. He pierced me so deeply that I screamed, and Andreas grunted and cursed, and that was enough.

Sobbing, head pressed to his shoulder, I spent all over the both of us, clenching down and writhing on his cock like a slut. My magic burned in me, blindingly bright, but the sweet warmth that suffused me as my peak faded had nothing to do with my body or my magic. It was all Andreas.

“Fuck,” Andreas groaned, and held me closer, thrusting up into me almost desperately, my body jolting.

I pressed my open mouth to the base of his throat and tasted his pulse. Hot and hard, just like his cock in me.

“You feel like you own me,” I gasped into his skin.

Andreas’s hips stuttered, the arm around my back went tense, digging into me painfully, and he buried his face in my hair.

His body shook as he filled me, almost silently, his breath hitching.

It was my turn to gentle him the way he had me the night before, releasing my death grip on his shoulders to stroke the tense muscles of his arms, nuzzling into his neck, reaching one hand up to trail my fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck.

Andreas shivered, sighed, and held me closer, tilting his hips to keep his softening cock inside me. I’d be dripping soon. Disgusting, but also…not so much.

But that would be the next moment.

For this one, I had Andreas in my arms and in me, and I felt whole, my magic and my mind and my body calm and at peace. I closed my eyes and breathed him in, letting everything else go.

Chapter Fourteen

The aftermath of sex felt very different when one didn’t want to go to sleep immediately—another thing I’d never even imagined when I lay alone night after night, virginal and without any hope of changing that.

And I savored it far more than I could ever have anticipated, the slightly awkward dance of separating our bodies, the sticky sounds and sensations, the way our eyes met for just an instant as he leaned back, how I had to avert mine when my face went hot, my cheeks burning even more as he lifted my hand and kissed my fingertips.

Even the heavy slide of his spent cock disconcerted me less than it had before. Rather than leaving me changed forever, wanting and lonely, his withdrawal felt temporary. I might still be changed forever, true, but he’d fucked me before, and now he’d fucked me again and made it a habit, and my body insisted that Andreas surely wouldn’t leave me empty for long.

He stepped back, steadying me as I slid down off the edge of the table. I pressed my thighs together, all slick with his come.

Andreas cleared his throat, tugged his pants up, fastened the button. He had his head bent down, but his height meant I could see most of his face anyway. It was as flushed as I knew mine had to be.

A wave of tenderness swept over me, leaving horribly betraying and nearly irresistible impulses in its wake: my fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and stroke down his stubbled cheek, and I had to restrain the rest of me from trying to nestle into his arms like a needy idiot.

Of course, I’d already more than proven that I was a needy idiot when it came to Andreas.

Maybe he hadn’t noticed yet. And if he hadn’t, maybe I ought to keep it that way—for my own self-respect, if nothing else.

A trickle of his spend made its way down the back of my leg, and I shifted my weight, tugging my shirt down so that it hung to the middle of my thighs. The awkwardness had begun to feel rather less sweet and exciting now that Andreas wasn’t touching me anymore.

He cleared his throat again and looked up at me, a flash of something in his eyes that made the pit of my stomach clench before it was gone again.

“I’ll leave your potion for you, Your Highness,” he said quietly, and gestured at the table. “It’s there in the box. Two flasks of it, and a note from Doctor Serrano. He said to come by and see him before we leave town if you have any questions.”

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