Page 143 of Golden Queen
I grasped his tunic, reaching up for the buckles that held it at the shoulder. He released me long enough to undo the straps, but he never took his lips from me until he lifted the leather over his head.
I tore at the buttons of his shirt, not caring if they broke. I just needed his skin under my palms. I needed to feel him pressed against my body.
The need left me shaking and trembling—my knees weak, my breathing ragged.
When the buttons of his shirt were loose, I pulled the material over his shoulders and down his long arms.
When the shirt slid over his hands, I jumped as the material caught fire. He threw it into the bathwater, where the flames hissed and went out.
When he was in front of me in only his breeches, I reached down to the buttons. He stopped me, grasping my backside and lifting me against him.
He turned, and in two strides, I was on the bed beneath him. His teeth were on my skin again. The sharp bite as he took my flesh between them only made me ache more.
Dark, heavy magic crackled in the air, shadows dancing at the corners of my vision, unfurling around us. The room pulsed with energy in time with the beating of my frantic heart.
He pressed me down into the mattress as his hands and mouth roamed over me. There was nothing gentle about his touch as he made his way down my body. Each nip, each dig of his big fingers into my flesh sent wild heat coursing through me.
Some primal urge for him to claim me took control. I spurred him on, moaning his name in response to his rough touch and his sharp teeth. When he bit my nipple hard, I cried out in a strangled groan, so deep I didn't recognize my own voice.
He slid his big hand up my body, wrapping his fingers around my throat lightly. He looked down at me with eyes gone darker somehow.
Any words I might have said died on my lips as his fingers pressed into my throat. And then his mouth was on mine again as he shifted his hand to angle my face to him—to claim my mouth by force.
"Is this what you needed so badly, Sera?" he asked, mockingly. The words were laced with malice and an edge of that anger he'd shown me.
"Yes," I said defiantly, holding his gaze.
He held my throat as his lips claimed mine again. Each kiss, each bite, was like a brand, angrily searing me.
All I knew was the scent of him and the feeling of his skin on mine. His fingers at my throat, the pressure of them against the pulse in my neck. And the ache—deep and unquenchable, to somehow be consumed by him.
His mouth trailed down my body, and then he knelt between my legs and bit me there, making me writhe and reach for him.
He laughed cruelly and ran his hands down my backside, along the cleft and over my asshole, lingering there in a way that made me both fear and desperately want him to slide that finger in. The thought shamed me—I couldn't believe I could want something like that.
I would have taken anything from him though—given him anything in that moment as long as it meant he would stay with me and quench the hunger running rampant through my body.
He slid his long finger back around and centered it, beginning a slow slide into me.
Fear seized me. "Wait," I said.
He stilled, raising his eyes to mine. The mercilessness I saw sent a jolt of unease through me.
When he spoke, his voice was cold, unfamiliar. "What? Are you now going to decide to have some fucking honor, Sera? To not be a heartless, faithless bitch?" he asked, cruelly. "Because it's a little late for that."
"No," I spat, my own anger flaring to life in response to his words. "I just...I need to explain something."
"What?" he said harshly, doubt coloring the word.
"I..."
"What, Sera?" he said, impatiently. His tone almost softened—almost. The anger, and those wicked, wild flames were still in his eyes.
"When they...took me," I said, pulling my eyes away and looking up at the ceiling, "they did something to...make me into a maiden again...so that I would not be ruined for...for...him."
He flinched as though I’d burned him, and I felt his hands leave me.
"What do you mean?"
