The Stolen Princess (Fated Royals 1)

He put his elbows on each side of me and kissed me as he ravished me—savage, intense, aggressive kisses that made my cheeks sting with the roughness of his stubble. There was no distance between our bodies; we were one in every way. From time to time, the pleasure would overcome me and the room would start to twinkle and shift, as if I had spent too long looking into a candle flame.

In those moments, I lost myself and gave into the pleasure of his strength and desire. It felt so good, I thought it must be a dream. But it wasn’t. It was him, in all his glory. My pleasure belonged to him forever.

“Fuck, Sara…” His voice was gruff, heady with exertion. “Come for me again. Let me hear you again. Your sounds… I’m so fucking drunk on you.” He doubled down with intensity, lingering inside me for one second, two, three, until I felt my body respond to him with throbs and flutters, and then the candle-flame blurriness overtook me again.

My spine rolled and I lifted myself right up off the sheets, only to come back down against his huge hands, gripping both of my butt cheeks, digging into the flesh, almost painfully yet the pleasure was what drove me on. Again and again he took me, and again and again I screamed his name into his shoulder as he grunted and growled and I felt possessed by a primal beast of a man I’d only met earlier this day.

I never imagined that anything could feel as good as having sex with Bors did. I surrendered wholly to his experience and expertise, and he ravaged me again and again that night, until I was a panting, messy, sated pile of sweat and cum.

Once he sensed my exhaustion, he pulled back slightly, still inside me but again on his knees. Caging me in with his massive arms, he changed his rhythm and his eyes got serious and darkly alluring. Wherever he had taken me with all that bliss, I could tell he too was heading there. It was crazy to think that he had the self-control to resist the inhuman pull of that pleasure, all for my sake. Though my hips were sore and my body tired, I opened my legs even wider for him as I ran my fingertips down his chest. With each thrust into me, my body responded by clenching tight around him. The tighter I clenched, the more his eyes grew glassy with desire.

“Oh fuck, fuck, Sara,” he said. He lowered his head and rammed into me with pounding thrusts that made the bed slam against the wall. “Fuck, yes. Tell me you’re ready to take my seed.”

I wasn’t. Ready wasn’t even a word in my vocabulary at that moment. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t describe how I felt about him, how I felt about his seed, and he needed to know that. “I was born for you. For this. It’s my only purpose, now and always.”

With a bestial roar, he unleashed his power into me. And as he did, I was taken to the brink of bliss and beyond.

Afterwards, he embraced me from behind, with his arms wrapped around my chest so that my bosom spilled out onto his forearm. His chin rested on my shoulder and my hips nestled in the cradle of his huge, solid body. “Marry me,” he said.

At first I thought he was joking, but when the silence stretched in the moments that followed I felt my heart clutch at the possibility. Me? Sara? Nobody wanted that of me. I tried to turn to look at him, but he held me so securely that I couldn’t turn at all.

“Just say yes. Don’t think about it. I’m not sophisticated or educated. I have no high ambitions. But I promise you, Sara, with all my heart, I will give you everything that is mine. I don’t deserve you. I’m in a drunken haze right now which gives me the courage to ask. Marry me, Sara.”

“Bors…”

“I promise to do my best, every day, to give you the joy you deserve and be the best man I can be for you. I know, we don’t go together. You’re so young, sent from heaven and I’m road worn, scarred and have visited hell. But, you will be my everything, I’ll be the man I always wanted to be because of you. I know I can.”

I pressed my lips to the inside of his huge, scarred bicep. I wanted so very desperately to say yes, right then and there. I wanted nothing more than to be his and his alone. I envisioned a life for us together in such vivid detail that I almost felt it had happened already. Like it was always meant to be.

But then my eyes fell on the windowsill, and the world beyond. I knew that right outside where we lay, all knitted up together in the simple glow of our love, loomed the world with all its difficulties, conflicts, and complications. And yet with my whole heart I wanted a fresh start with him, somewhere—anywhere. I was his. He was mine. And I was angry that anything made it more complicated than that. But if there was one thing that I had learned from my family it was that being angry at your situation didn’t change anything.