Page 141 of Claimed By a King

I get what she’s saying. The barrier of our clothing is giving her the security she needs as well as the friction she craves, so I give her what she wants.

Lips on lips, hands roaming and gripping and clawing, we press into each other, gyrating, mashing, humping.

I’ve never wanted my clothes to vanish so much, yet at the same time, I fucking love the tease of it, feeling the rub of her cunt through the barrier of our clothes as she chases her climax.

I’m fucking starved for her. Starved to feel myself sink inside her. Starved for her to consume me.

“Grind on my cock, Princess.” I thrust forward as she tips her head back against the wall, her lids closing as she lets go. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Gray,” she cries, her fingers now digging into my shoulders as she dry humps the bulge of my cock. “I’m going to…”

She trails off as she holds her breath, her hips working faster to grind her cunt against me, and then a cry rips free as she plummets into her orgasm.

The friction, her cries, the way her sweet scent wraps around me has me following, and my whole fucking body jerks as I come in pulsing hot spurts into my fucking jeans.

“Fuck, Zo,” I pant into her neck, feeling her body relax as she winds her arms around my neck.

“I love the way you love me,” she whispers.

Pulling back, I take in her rosy cheeks and swollen lips as her pants turn into regular breaths.

“Thank you for trusting me.” My eyes lock with hers, and I still see so much pain swimming in her blue pools.

“Do you have your knife?” she asks and my brows shoot up.

“Always.”

“Can you give me a new scar today?” Her voice is soft and small, almost like she’s unsure if it’s okay to ask such a thing, so I remind her that she doesn’t have to hide anything from me.

“Ofcourse. Where?” I grin, and her lips spread wide in return.

“Through the brand on my shoulder blade.”

Fuck. Gunner’s fucking brand.

I’ve wanted to cut the fucking thing off her body, but I’ll never subject her to that.

“Let’s do it.” I nod, and she beams as I release my hold on her thigh and step back from her body.

Ignoring the sticky patch in my jeans, I lead Zoe to a chair and sit her down before taking out my knife. She peels her top off, exposing her creamy skin, and I step behind her as she combs her ponytail out of the way.

Like every time I see the brand on her back, I nearly fucking lose it.

This isn’t about me though. It’s about my princess, so I step up close and hover the blade near her skin.

“Ready, Princess?”

She nods. “Do it.”

Pressing the sharp edge to her flesh, I glide it down over the brand and watch the crimson of her blood seep from the cut.

Zoe moans like it gives her relief, and I wonder if it’s as much relief as I get from watching me claim back that part of her skin.

It’s mine.

She’s mine.

And I’m fucking proud to be hers.

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