He released his hold on her. “Or perhaps you prove your point. Perhaps you prove your point that killing sometimes creates more problems.”
“I don’t know.” She turned from him, pacing away from him. “I don’t know about any of this. But tonight...”
She took the crown from the top of her head and placed it on the dresser by the door.
“Can I be Annick? And you be Maximus? Not the King, not the Queen. But just us. As we are. Can we be simply feeling? It doesn’t have to be feelings for me. It can be feelings for her. It doesn’t have to be anything easy. It can be sharp. It can be painful. But this... Last night. When I bit you. When I tasted you. I am just starving. I am just starving for all that I could have. For all that I have missed.”
He didn’t say a word. Instead, he stepped forward, grabbing hold of her hips and dragging her up against his body. She could feel his desire there. His hardness. The need that he felt for her, and he could not deny it. No matter how much he might want to. She pushed at his shirt, shoving it from his shoulders and tearing buttons off it as she did. They scattered across the floor, and then his chest was bare. Just as she liked it.
And she found herself dropping down to her knees before him, undoing the belt on his pants and opening them, reaching her hand inside his underwear and revealing that thick length of him that had felt so incredible inside her the night before. And she was ready. Ready for him. Ready for this. She was ready for everything that he might have for her. But first. She wanted this. This moment to luxuriate in the feel of him. The taste of him. She wanted this moment for them. For her. She wanted this moment to simply be.
She leaned in, sliding her tongue along his length.
“Annick,” he growled, taking a handful of her hair, and she felt the pins there biting into her scalp.
Does a King submit to his Queen here?
You know that he does not.
And here she was, on her knees, submitting to her King.
Except, it was not so simple. For he was at his end; she could see that. The fierce light in his eyes, the strength with which he held her in his grip. He was beyond himself, and she was... She was powerful. In this moment, on her knees before him, she was everything. Woman. Queen. Submissive. Powerful. In this moment. Finally, she could feel all the light that she had been denied for all of those years. In his strength. His heat. His taste.
She didn’t obey him. Rather, she leaned her head forward, pulling against his hold, loving the way the pain dovetailed with the pleasure that pierced her like an arrow between her legs. And she took him in deep. Tasted him, took him in so deep that he touched the back of her throat. And he growled, bucking his hips upward. And she took it. All of it.
“Annick.” He said her name, rough and raw and ragged, and it was everything that she needed it to be.
She lost herself then. In pleasuring him.
In this endless circle of need. It filled her. It emptied her. Giving him pleasure gave her her own, and she could not have explained that if she had been asked to. All she knew was that she wanted it. Wanted him.
All she knew was that she was a slave to this. As much as she was the master of it.
And she had come to him across the world, not because she had thought they might find this, simply because she thought they might be able to help.
But this was more than help. And it was more than simply for her. It was something...
A gift.
Annick had spare few gifts in her life.
A spare few.
He jerked her away from him suddenly, and she could see that he was pushed to his limits, his muscle shaking.
“Not like this,” he said, his words a fractured example of the control within.
“Why not? You made me shatter that way last night.”
“But I want to be in you, my Queen. I wish to feel how tight you are. How wet. I wish for you to come apart in my arms while I shatter against you.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
And she would. She would.
“Take your clothes off,” he ordered.
And she could hear it. That his restraint had slipped its leash.