“Wicked,” I breathed as he did it again, circling the tip of his tongue on my clit. My hands snaked into his hair as I sank down, bringing me closer, seeking the pleasure of more friction. More pressure. The stubble on his chin was rough and delicious as it rubbed me with the precision of a lightning bolt.

His hands gripped my waist as he guided me over his mouth, my hips moving back and forth like I was taming a stallion. He moaned, the coarse sound rattling through my bones and scorching my blood.

I moved faster and faster, grinding down against him as I gripped the edge of the sofa to keep my balance.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Ride me, little Princess. Come apart for me.” I did as he asked, using him for my pleasure as his tongue thrust inside me and my clit stroked against his face, the sensation winding me up tighter and tighter. I cried out, tossing my head back, the tendrils of my hair tickling my back. This was the most intense pleasure I’d ever experienced.

Wicked made a sound that was part groan and part growl as I tore apart with a scream. He held on to my hips, dragging me across his mouth as I surged through my climax. One of my hands gripped in his hair, the other hung onto the sofa so tight my knuckles were white.

When the waves of the aftershock subsided, Wicked flipped me off him and sat with his back to the sofa. Pulling me over him, my hips straddled his. I grabbed his shoulders as I slid myself along the length of his hard heat that pressed between my thighs. He moaned, his eyes closing for a moment, his large hands clamping on my hips.

Gripping him with my hand, I lifted myself higher, fit the head to my entrance, and slowly eased myself down. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Gods, you’re so tight. You feel amazing.” Still guiding my hips with his hands, he slid me higher and then thrust his hips, his cock spearing into me.

I gasped at the sensation. The ache and the stretch and gods, this was the most exquisite bliss. He did it again, the veins on his neck standing out as he seemed to be trying to clamp down on himself. But I didn’t want him to restrain anything or hold back. I wanted everything.

“Let go,” I whispered, pressing my forehead against his.

I dragged my nails down his chest and up his arms, skimming over his biceps and the swell of his shoulders. Gripping his face in my hands, I pressed my thumbs into his bottom lip as I rocked my hips, our cries growing frantic as he thrust into me over and over.

He bit the tip of my thumb, sucking it into his mouth while he ground me down hard against him. His head dipped where he took my nipple in his mouth, biting down as one hand squeezed the flesh of my ass and the other reached between my legs, where he stroked my clit.

Warm tension spread out over my body as we moved together, our moans and cries backdropped only by the crackle of the hearth. A moment later, I shattered again, crying out, my release washing over me in wave after wave. Wicked grunted low in his chest and then flipped me over, pushing me to the floor, one hand coming under my knee as he drove into me deeper. I hung on to his shoulders, his mouth crashing into mine, his tongue and his cock both thrusting into me with unleashed abandon.

He moved faster and faster, his movements becoming erratic, until he let out a moan that seemed to shake the ground as a shudder rippled over his body. “Rowan,” he gasped. “Oh fuck, Princess.” He stopped, his eyes shuttered for a moment as if he needed a second to gather himself. Then he lay on top of me, his warm skin silky with a sheen of sweat. I ran my hands over his back, savoring the hard planes of muscle as he slowed his movements.

When he’d recovered, he let out a low groan and kissed me deeply, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. He rolled off me, landing on the blankets and tucking me in next to him, one hand trailing up my side, and the other tracing the lines of my face as he stared at me.

“That was incredible,” he said. “I haven’t felt like that in so long.”

“You’re just saying that because it’s been like a hundred years,” I joked and he grinned.

“I assure you that isn’t the case, Princess.” He lowered his head and kissed me again, peering at me with sincerity. “I haven’t felt like that ever.”

Immediately, my hunger for him stirred, and I hitched my leg over his hips as he drew me in. He was hard again, and his chest rumbled in satisfaction as I gripped his cock in my hand.

“You mentioned something about my mouth earlier?” I asked innocently, blinking up at him with the beguiling expression of a disobedient angel. His smile hooked up at the corner, his eyes gleaming with delight.

“If you spoil me like this, I might reconsider bringing you home, after all.”

I pushed him back and straddled his hips, leaning down to kiss his chest and then his stomach before I peered up at him with a wink.

“I guess that’s a chance I’ll just have to take.”

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Seventeen

We waited out the storm for several more days, the snow blowing fiercely. Wicked checked our food stores, his brow furrowing in worry. “If we can’t get to the village soon, we’ll have to start rationing,” he said. He walked to the window and peered outside. “This can’t last much longer.”

“Hmm, mmm,” I murmured from the bed, not really caring. We’d spent almost every waking moment of the past days reveling in the taste and touch and smells of each other. Wicked had me in every way I could think of and some I’d had no idea were possible. I was an entirely new woman, my muscles jelly and my legs liquid.

He looked at me with fondness, a small smile on his face. “How are you feeling, Princess?”

“Lonely,” I said, pulling up the covers and gesturing him over. He grinned and took me up on my offer, snuggling in next to me.

It took another day before the wind finally died down. Wicked went outside immediately and came back to report the worst of the storm was over. “I’m going to shovel the pass so we can get you home. I’ll be back in a few hours.” He didn’t wait for me to respond as he slammed the door behind him without another glance.

I stared at the door, my heart thumping in my chest. Was he still so eager to get rid of me? I tried not to let it bother me. I didn’t belong here. I was supposed to go home and live the life that had been planned for me. This had been a brief, if rather enjoyable interlude, even if it hadn’t started out that way.

As promised, he returned a few hours later, his cheeks red from the cold and exertion of digging out the snow.

“It wasn’t as high as I expected it to be,” he said. “We can go today. Get dressed. I’ll carry your things.”

He started picking up my scattered clothing and stuffing them into the bag he’d retrieved for me all those weeks ago, not looking my way. Slowly, I followed suit as he traipsed about the room with purpose. He couldn’t seem to move fast enough as he haphazardly stuffed everything in and then scanned the small area, looking for anything he might have missed.

I sat on the edge of the bed, feeling small and forgotten and used. His expression was dark and furious.

“Wicked,” I said. “I could stay and—”

“No,” he cut me off, his eyes flashing. “You can’t stay here any longer. I should never have brought you out here. This was all a mistake.”

“But what about...this?” I gestured between us to encompass all that we’d shared the past few days. He’d made me feel beautiful and wanted and cherished. He’d told me I was brave and clever and that I reminded him of what it felt like to be alive. Had it all been a lie?

“We were just passing the time, Rowan. It was nice, but it’s time for you to go.” Those words punched a raw gaping hole right through my chest, my stomach clenching.