To Kiss a King by Jess Michaels

Author:Jess Michaels
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Passionate Pen

The King of Athawick was big. Ophelia had always been attracted to his solid, broad form, how tall he was. But now, staring at him naked, he felt extremely big. Bigger than Erasmus, who was her only frame of reference. She sat up fully and reached for him. Her hand shook as she closed it around his width and then traced his length in one stroke.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his head tipping back.

A flutter worked through her at that curse. She’d never heard him swear before. He was always in too much control of himself to be vulgar. Which meant she had cracked that control and she loved it. Loved watching him shed the trappings of an institution and simply become a man.

Her man, at least for a while.

She edged closer and brushed her cheek against his cock, then darted her tongue against the head.

His eyes flew open and he stared down at her. “Ophelia.”

She smiled at the plea in his tone. “Yes?” She licked him again.

“Don’t play with fire,” he ordered as he dropped back down to the settee, forcing her hand away and pressed his lips to hers.

His kiss was harder now, more driven, and she welcomed it. Because of her confession, she had felt him being cautious as he touched her. Careful, as if she were glass and he feared breaking her. What he didn’t understand, what she couldn’t say, was that she wanted to be broken. She wanted his passion, his drive, like she had felt as he licked her in the throne room. She wanted reckless abandon.

She dug her nails into his shoulders lightly, pulling him even closer, and he grunted against her mouth in a low, dangerous sound of pleasure.

“I want fire,” she murmured against his mouth. “I want you.”

He pulled away slightly and met her eyes. He was so close that it felt like there was only him in the world, or at least in her world. A feeling that was both terrifying and comforting.

He edged off the settee and back to his knees on the floor. Without saying a word, he cupped her hips and dragged her closer. Just as they had on the throne earlier that day, her legs fell open. Only this time she was naked. This time she knew what he could do with that tongue. He smiled, utterly wicked, as he massaged her outer lips, peeled them apart and then put his mouth on her for the second time that day.

She arched against him as he licked her, hard and fast. In a way, she supposed this was exactly what she’d demanded: fire. His mouth was fire against her, building a fire within her. She lifted to meet his strokes, hating and loving how easily he could take her to the edge. But once he got her there, he slowed down, never quite allowing her to fall.

It was torture, but the most wonderful kind. Pleasure was just there and he kept it out of reach, smiling against her as she writhed and tried to lift into him to take what he was withholding.

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