Page 91 of American King (New Camelot Trilogy 3)
Embry finally managed to pull off his jacket and tie, and after dropping them in a crumpled and expensive mess on a nearby chair, he rolled up his sleeves and managed his first real breath since he walked in. He put a knee between my spread legs to climb onto the bed, and I never thought I’d enjoy the sight of him crawling toward me fully clothed—especially not while I was naked and bound—but my breath
caught regardless. Maybe with Embry it didn’t matter what we were doing. Or maybe it was because it all felt like something I was allowing, something I was giving, rather than something he was taking. Either way, my cock was stiffening, going thick. The moment he saw it, he froze.
“Shit,” he muttered, closing his eyes. He appeared to be counting to ten. Even from down the bed, I could see the ridge of his own erection shoving hard against his pants.
“Okay,” he said after a minute. “Okay.”
He finished climbing onto the bed and knelt fully between my legs, close enough that I could feel the fabric over his knees brushing against my inner thighs. He put his hands on the tops of my legs, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin where my adductor muscles creased into my groin, and my cock stirred, giving a lazy bounce up before coming back to rest on my belly. Embry’s head dropped between his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “This is just a lot to take in.”
“Me tied up? Or that you get to use toys on me?”
“Don’t forget your stupid dimple, you asshole. Okay. I can do this. Without coming in my pants. I think.” He reached for the plug and a little more lube.
“Have you done this before?” I asked, watching him. “The toys, I mean?”
He flushed a little again. “There’s not a lot I haven’t done, I guess. Yes, I’ve used toys on someone before.”
“Does it always get you this hot?” I asked curiously. I would definitely be filing away this information for later.
He gave a very cosmopolitan shrug, at least as much as he could shrug while expertly swirling a dab of lube around the end of a butt plug. “It’s always fun, but—” he leveled a look at me “—you know this is different.”
I dropped my head back on the pillow. “I’m glad. It’s different for me too.”
“Ash, I…”
I looked back up to see him swallowing again, this time from something other than unabashed lust. My own throat tightened, and I wanted all of a sudden to beg him again—no matter how ridiculous it was with me naked and tied up and him with a butt plug in his hand—just to marry me, just to fucking marry me, and to hell with everything else.
“Thank you,” he continued. “For trusting me enough to do this. For giving me this.”
“Of course.”
“No,” he said, closing his eyes again. “I mean it. I…don’t feel worthy of it.” He opened his eyes and it felt like there was no other color in the room. Just blue, blue, blue, and it would be the only color I’d ever be able to see again.
“I want you to have all of me,” I said simply. “It doesn’t mean that I don’t feel like you’re still my little prince as we do it; I do. All it means is that I want to allow you everything, I want to share everything, I want nothing left undone between us.”
Embry gave me a hopeful look. “Does this mean I’ve earned it?”
I couldn’t help but smile again at his eager expression. “No,” I teased, not because no was the real answer, but because I decided right then and there that he’d earn it the minute he said yes to me. The minute he let me marry him, we’d mark that minute with our last first. Him inside me.
My cock surged at the thought, and he laughed. “It turns you on to say no to me?”
“No,” I said seriously. “It turns me on to think about when I’ll say yes to you.”
Embry froze again. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “You can’t say shit like that right now, or it’s just going to be embarrassing for me.” Then he managed this thing where he peered up at me through his eyelashes somehow, even despite being above me. “So you know what I’ll have to do to earn it? What will make you say yes?”
“I do.” It’s you saying yes to me, say yes, Embry, be mine, be my husband and I’ll make sure you never regret it. I’ll make sure you’re the happiest man alive, just say yes.
He kept doing the peering thing, the Jane Austen hero glancing sidelong across the ballroom thing—if an Austen hero had been obsessed with fucking another man in the ass. “Are you going to tell me what it is I have to do?” he asked. “Or will we be in our nineties before I get to top you?”
“First of all, fucking is not the same as topping, which you’ll find out when the time comes. Second of all, I’ve just decided that I’m not going to tell you.” I grinned at him. “I think you’ll figure it out for yourself fairly quickly though.”
And God, I did think that. I was so certain of it. He’d realize when I proposed how vulnerable I’d been with him always, how willing I was to surrender myself and my pride and my heart and how it had been that way for fourteen years and how it would never change. How I wasn’t asking for anything but a yes. Just agree, just agree, and I would turn over everything to him.
Embry narrowed his eyes at me. “You are being coy tonight,” he said. “Somehow, even with a butt plug in the equation, you are managing to be coy. This must be some kind of skill they teach at the G8.”
“Just do it,” I said, spreading my legs farther apart, and the way Embry’s gaze hooded as I did that was worth every heartbreak it took to get to this moment.
