Page 80 of Born for Silk
What becomes of her now?
Or the king is lying.
I just don't think he is.
The kiss didn't lie.
Somewhere in the midst of one thought and another, slumber wraps me in a tight, warm hold.
Not until I feel air whispering across my legs do I stir. Sheets glide down my body. The bed rocks me from side to side, and I know he is prowling over me.
I don’t move, but I open my eyes, blinking my lashes against the smooth black veil. The seam of the silken material caresses my upper lip, my mouth mostly free and exposed to the air.
My heart races immediately.
“Aster.” My name purrs across my ear as he hovers over me. “Are you wet for me, little Silk Girl? Are your smooth, white thighs quivering for me? Are you afraid of what I’m going to do to you?”
My mouth parts, the thick weight of his words pressing on my chest, squeezing air from my lungs. Shit. His palm moves up to grip my throat, rolling me to my spine within the cave of his large body.
“Fuck,” he utters, strained. His breath blows through my hair and his rough, warm cheek touches mine through the silk veil. “You smell so fucking good.”
I start to tremble.
He glides his hand up from my shin, gripping and massaging a shearing path to my knee before pushing my thigh to the mattress. Spreading me.
His touch is firm—authoritarian—yet gentle and reverent. As if he knows how fragile I am in his arms, but he can work the pieces of me so they do not shatter.
A strong, large hand spans out over my core, pressing his palm to my weeping lips. “So wet for me. Your defiant mind may misbehave, but your body is so very obedient to me.”
He moves down my torso.
Mouths my throat.
Then, licks across my chest. Treats each nipple to his lips until the aching buds stiffen, forcing whimpers from me. He hums, his exhale gushing heat along my flesh.
I gasp and arch into him.
One arm braces him just above me.
The other traces from the back of my knee, over my hip to the side of my breast, and down again, scorching a path of warmth and yearning.
Then he shifts.
And it’s time.
My eyes widen behind the silk veil when he positions himself. My senses heighten, touch, sound. Everything—him.
With his lips to my forehead, his muscular arm slides up my spine until he cups my head and cradles my torso, controlling me against him.
His hard, long length is a pulsing rod that bruises my core and up my trembling stomach.
“My king,” I plea, terrified.
With no room to move, my arms curled between us and my fingers by my chin, I can only flatten my hands to his chest. I am utterly vulnerable to him, more now, in this position than ever before.
“I’m going to get lost in the feel of your tight, wet pussy, little creature. Use your claws on me. If I hurt you, make sure I know what you’re feeling. Bring me back to you.”
I curl my fingers into the hard, warm plane of his carved muscles to show him that I can, even with his pressure—everywhere. I shudder and try to lift into him, grinding, already desperate for the pleasure I know he can bring.