His Majesty's Mistake

The heat in his eyes made her heart lurch. Emmeline drew a panicked breath which only emphasized the rise and fall of her bare, gleaming breasts. “Even if I say I don’t want to?”

“You knew when we got married it would be a real marriage, and it’s going to be.” His gaze wandered slowly down her body, from the thrust of her collarbone to the peaked swell of her breasts, down her ribs to her small waist and rounded hips. “You have the most beautiful body, Emmeline. I can’t wait to touch you and taste you, everywhere.”

“I can,” she huffed.

He had the gall to laugh as he lowered his head to kiss her collarbone. His mouth brushed across the length of the fragile bone and goose bumps covered her skin, making her nipples pebble tighter. “At least your nerve endings there work,” he murmured, his mouth working its way down her collarbone to the upper slope of her breast.

Heat washed through her as his lips closed around one peaked breast, his mouth wet and warm against the cool hard nipple. She shuddered as he sucked, tension coiling deep inside her, making her aware there were things she didn’t know, had never felt.

He moved to the other breast, laved the other nipple with attention even as his hands stroked her flat stomach and the curve of her hips.

He knew exactly how to make her feel. And she was feeling so much.

He was sucking harder on the nipple, and Emmeline pressed against him for relief, but it was impossible to find when his mouth was driving her wild. The pressure, tight and rhythmic, made her aware of how empty she felt, how much she needed him.

And she did need him. She needed him to touch her, kiss her, lick her, fill her. She’d let him do anything if he’d satisfy the aching emptiness within her. She’d never felt so tight and so hollow at the same time. Her body throbbed with the worst of the need between her legs.

His hand trailed down her flat belly, caressing her abdomen, skimming her belly button before stroking lightly across one jutting hipbone. She hissed a breath as his palm circled over the hipbone, sending sparks of sensation shooting through her. Her inner muscles squeezed, gripping nothing and yet she’d never felt so hot or wet before. She could feel the dampness of her own body, the hint of moisture at her thighs.

His fingers brushed over the hipbone again and then down her outer thigh and back up. Again and again he traced her thigh as his mouth followed the path his hand had just taken, tongue on her belly, circling her belly button and then outlining the curve of hipbone.

“Open your legs,” he said, kissing the hollow where her thigh joined her pelvis. It was such a light kiss and yet she shuddered.

“Can’t,” she gritted and shuddered yet again as he kissed her through the golden curls at the juncture of her thighs. His warm breath made her go hot and then cold and little spots danced and exploded against her mind’s eye.

“Why not?” he asked, sliding one finger down the front of her, through the curls and between her lips to touch her.

Emmeline gasped, eyes opening wide, and tried to scoot away. “I’ll lose control.”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“No. Not good. Not good at all.”

She heard him smother a laugh. “Why not?” he asked, stroking her again, his finger sliding up, then down once more, sliding deeper this time, over the tight bud to her slick inner folds.

“I’ll feel too much,” she gasped, thinking she was already feeling way, way too much. “And fall apart and that’s never, ever good.”

“But if you don’t fall apart, you don’t experience pleasure. And pleasure is a good thing.”

He was still stroking her, and she was finding it harder and harder to focus on anything but the delicious sensations he was creating with his touch. But the pleasure wasn’t just sexual, her entire body felt sensitive, intense and alive.

This time she didn’t resist as he parted her legs and shifted his body to settle between her thighs.

She knew where he was, but it was still a shock when his mouth covered her sex, his lips and tongue touching, tasting her.

“Makin,” she choked.

His tongue and fingers together caressed her, and the sensation seemed to grow, building, teetering between pleasure and pain.

Her hips rose as the tension coiled in her belly, tight and hard and far from soothing. His tongue stroked her, his fingers teased her, one filling her, sliding in and out and matching the flick of his tongue.

“Dammit,” she choked, her body so hot, her skin growing damp. She wanted something else, wanted release but didn’t know how to get it, find it, not when the pressure kept building until she felt mad with it.