Page 70 of Destiny Redeemed
“Perfect,” he whispered, the word filled with a reverence that made my stomach flutter.
And then his mouth was on me again, wet and hot and perfect, and every coherent thought fled from my mind. I rocked against him instinctively, the pressure between my legs becoming unbearable, and was rewarded with a groan that vibrated against my skin. Emboldened, I slid my hand between us, palming his hardness through his pants.
I ran my hand over him, reveling in the discovery of his body. His hardness surprised me, a solid presence beneath the soft fabric, yet the texture was unexpectedly smooth, like velvet under my fingertips, feeling him respond with a low, guttural grunt. I traced the length, my touch growing bolder, and when I reached the tip, I applied a gentle squeeze.
He hissed in pleasure, his hips jerking into my touch before he caught my wrist in a firm grip. “Not yet, Princess,” he said, his voice rough but with an undertone of iron resolve. “Not here, not like this.”
Before I could protest, he shifted, his body moving with that supernatural grace that always left me awestruck. In an instant, I was on my back, the makeshift bedding beneath me, his glorious weight pressing me down. His body covered mine as his lips crashed into mine, the kiss a mix of possession and worship that left me breathless.
His hands slid up my thighs, leaving trails of fire along my skin. My breath hitched as his fingers found the edge of my slip, teasing under the hem. I should have stopped him. I should have remembered all the reasons this was impossible—that he was the prince of a kingdom I’d once helped destroy and that I was a woman with secrets that could shatter everything between us.
But his touch burned away my resistance like morning mist under the summer sun.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against my neck, his voice a rough caress. “Tell me, and I will.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came. Instead, a soft moan escaped as his palm flattened against my inner thigh, so close to where I ached for him.
“I thought so,” he murmured, and I could feel his smile against my skin.
His hand moved higher, and I gasped as he finally—finally—cupped me between my legs. His touch was confident and practiced as he glided his finger through my wet folds, exploring my most intimate places with devastating precision.
“So eager…” He breathed, his voice thick with desire.
Any retort I might have had dissolved into incoherence when his finger found my clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make my hips buck against his hand. The cave around us seemed to recede, the firelight dimming to nothing compared to the fire he was stoking inside me.
“Anderic,” I gasped, not recognizing my own voice—breathy and desperate.
He watched my face with those intense blue eyes as he slowly pushed one finger inside me. My back arched involuntarily, a gasp tearing from my throat. He took immediate advantage, claiming my parted lips with his own, his tongue pushing into my mouth in a rhythm that matched the slow, torturous movement of his finger.
It wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. I moved my hips against his hand, silently begging for more, faster. And for a blissful moment, he obliged, his finger pumping into me at a pace that had me clawing at his shoulders, teetering on the edge of something magnificent.
And then he slowed down. Deliberately.
I broke away from his kiss with a frustrated gasp, looking up to find his eyes gleaming with playful wickedness. “Why did you…stop?” I demanded, my voice a mixture of breathlessness and indignation.
“Stop?” His finger moved lazily inside me, a teasing reminder of what he was withholding. “I haven’t stopped, Princess.”
“You know what I mean,” I said, trying to sound imperious despite my compromised position.
He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear. “Tell me what you need… or should I keep guessing?” He demanded, his voice a silky command that made me shiver. “Say the words.”
I turned my face away, suddenly shy despite the intimacy of our position. “You know what I want.”
Without warning, his finger moved faster, curling inside me to hit a spot that made stars explode behind my eyes. Just as quickly, he slowed again, leaving me gasping.
“That’s not how this works,” he said, his voice thick with arousal and amusement. “Tell me, or I’ll keep you right here—” his finger slowed to an agonizing crawl, “—all night long.”
My brain had turned to mush, coherent thought impossible with his touch reducing me to pure sensation. “Please,” I whispered, the word escaping before I could stop it.
“Please, what?” His finger moved torturously slow, circling inside me. “Be specific, Ilyana.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, desire warring with pride. “Please don’t—don’t stop. I need…”
“You need what?” His voice was low, demanding, and impossibly arousing. “Tell me.”
“I need you to—to make me—”
Before I could finish my stammered plea, Anderic pushed a second finger inside me. My words dissolved into a cry of pleasure as my eyes flew open in surprise. He was watching me intently, cataloging every reaction, every flush of my skin, and every helpless sound that escaped me.
