Page 148 of The King is Dead
“Helpless, Yilan,” he snarled. “I want you helpless.”
I sighed and let him take all my weight on the arm clamped at my lower back. Melek gave a low, guttural moan as he sucked and nipped my breasts.
Then he began to pound, lifting me, pulling me down to meet him.
“Don’t… stop!” I gasped, clawing both hands into his hair just to have something to hold onto.
“Is that any way to speak to your King?” he snarled, then drew out of me.
“Wait! What—”
Melek sat up, but pushed me to lean back over his arm again as he reached between us.
I smiled and relaxed, thinking he’d position himself for me—but instead he slid his hard length between my ass cheeks.
Then he leaned back again, growling, “Don’t move,” his eyes raking down my body to watch himself as he slid two fingers into me, curling them, beckoning me, and with every roll of my hips and curl of his fingers, he sent pleasure rippling up my spine.
“Oh, shit. Melek…oh shit.”
He gave a rough chuckle, but it didn’t last as I leaned further back so his fingers reached higher inside me and moaned as my body jolted, the promise of an orgasm rocking through me.
I let my head fall back and closed my eyes, giving him all my weight, focusing on that delicious sensation and the climbing bliss in my body.
“God, you’re so beautiful, Yilan,” Melek croaked as his hips jumped under me and the pace of his touch increased.
“Don’t stop,” I gasped, squeaking as my body tightened with every stroke and I shook, searching for that crest that was so close…so close. “Please… please…oh fuck—”
But just as I was about to fall into that ocean of bliss, Melek gave another low chuckle and removed his hand, pulling me up again.
“Melek!” I gasped, staring at him in horror.
“That’sYour Majesty,” he rasped. I spluttered, but then he lifted my hips and pulled me down onto him. Harder.
My jaw dropped and my breath stopped as he filled me so full I felt it in the soles of my feet. I shuddered. Suddenly I wasright thereagain, right on the back of that wave, unbreathing, my body pulsing. Melek snapped back, his heels scraping on the floor, his head falling over the back of the chair as he gripped my ass in both hands and drove me, up and down, clawing his fingers into the thick muscle and calling my name as I let my body arch back over his knees, high, keening noises breaking in my throat with every thrust—until the wave crested and my body went taut.
My eyes rolled back and the world spun. I was aware of nothing except that ecstatic bliss rushing from where we joined through my bloodstream, fed to every extremity.
Strange noises that were supposed to be his name clawed out of my throat as my body. Arched back and trembling, my body clenching over him, Melek broke too.
One of his hands shot out to clamp on the back of my neck and pull me down on him as he drove into me, our bodies writhing together, twitching. I was shuddering, gasping as he pumped and rocked, wringing every ounce of pleasure from me. When that final wave crashed on the shore of my soul then drained away, Melek groaned and pulled me forward onto his chest.
At some point I blinked and returned to consciousness, collapsed on his chest, my head resting under his chin, my sweaty body plastered to his.
It was minutes before I could lift my head to look at him. I was very gratified to find him still slumped back like he was utterly spent.
But when I groaned and pushed up on his chest, he lifted his head slowly, his eyes opening to meet mine.
I wiped the sweat from his forehead, smiling as I straightened the crown, which had almost fallen off.
But Melek growled and grabbed for it, pulling it off, and reaching over the arm of the chair to let it drop safely to the floor.
“No! Melek!” I complained, but he just caught my chin and kissed me deeply.
And when he broke the kiss, he pulled his head back far enough to meet my eyes, grinning.
“Don’t worry, mate. If that’s what the crown does to you, I’ll wear it every damn night.”
55. A Sister’s Despair
