Page 78 of American Queen (New Camelot Trilogy 1)
“How did he fuck you that night?” Ash is kneeling over me right now, his cock rock-hard and angry looking. “Did he flip you over so he could see your ass? Take you up against the wall because he couldn’t wait?”
Maybe I shouldn’t answer that. But I do. “It was…like this. Him on top.”
Quick as lightning, Ash is stretching his body over mine, his cock pressed against my clit. I can’t stop the moan that I let out.
“What else?” Ash asks. His voice is rough. Rougher than I’ve ever heard it. And his eyes are so dark, no longer green but black.
“He, um, he sucked on my breasts. Bit them. Like he was nursing, but hard and kind of desperate.”
Ash lowers his head and nips at the tender curves of my breasts, sucking and teething and kissing, and within half a minute, I’m panting.
“What else?” Ash growls against my tits. “What else did he do?”
“I didn’t tell him I was a virgin until he was trying to get inside. And when I did tell him, he got…mean. Like it turned him on too much for him to control himself.”
In the here and now, there’s a wide cock pushing against my folds and then Ash stabs inside so hard I gasp. “Mean like this?” he asks, punctuating his question with several savage thrusts.
“Yes,” I cry out. “There was blood. He liked it. I liked it.”
Ash stills, his cock quivering. “There was blood?”
“A lot. It hurt, and Embry liked looking at it on his dick, seeing it smeared on his hips and my thighs. I came so hard.”
“I bet you did,” Ash says, jabbing in again. “It should have been me, my cock. That blood and pain should have been mine, but I was such a fucking idiot.”
“You have me now, Mr. President.”
“Yes, I do,” he growls, rolling his hips and grinding against my clit. I make a low keening noise. “How did he come—on you? Inside you?”
“Inside me,” I say, my voice breathless. “He wrapped his arms behind me and put his weight on me. Oh God, yes, just like that.”
Ash feels entirely different than Embry—wider, stronger, more deliberate—but in this position, I can so easily summon the memory of Embry’s body over mine. I can so easily pretend.
“I want to feel what he felt,” Ash tells me, his lips against the place where my jaw and my neck meet. “I want to pretend I’m him. Are you pretending, angel?”
“I…I don’t know.” And I don’t. One moment it’s Ash over me, the next moment it’s Embry, and the moment after that it’s both of them, and I’m the center of a hurricane of hands and mouths and eager flesh.
“I believe you,” he says, his hips rolling so perfectly in and out. This third orgasm is like a key turning in a lock; there’s a sudden shift and sudden everything in me is open and ready, and the climax rushes in, vicious and cruel, each pull so painful and bright that I can’t catch my breath. It’s my orgasm that sends Ash over the edge, and he gives a rough grunt and releases, this time fucking his way through the orgasm with those slow rolls, his entire body shaking.
And then he moves off me, disappearing into the bathroom and returning with a washcloth. He cleans me gently, meeting my eyes.
“Are you okay?”
I nod. “Are you?”
“I don’t know.”
He returns the washcloth, and to my great relief, joins me back in bed, wrapping me in his arms. “Are you mad at me? At Embry?” I ask.
He lets out a long breath, his chin resting against my head. “No.”
“But you’re feeling something.”
“Oh yes,” he answers. “Definitely that.”
“Jealousy? Because you don’t need to be jealous, I swear to you.”
“I know you believe that.” A hand sweeps up my back and strokes along my spine. “Jealousy is such a limiting word, isn’t it? Because there’s so many kinds of jealousy. There’s feeling possessive, which I do of you…but then again, I also feel possessive of Embry. There’s insecurity—that maybe Embry was able to give you something I can’t, and that you’re able to give Embry something that will change his relationship with me. And then there’s this strange kind of desire—thinking about you with him makes me hard. I don’t know why. It just does. And I know desire doesn’t always make logical sense, that it’s inherently politically incorrect, that sometimes we crave depraved things.”
