“Tell me what you want,” he ordered, and she knew the answer before he’d even asked.
“You,” she said. “All of you. Whatever the price.”
Søren brought his hand to her chest again.
“Grace...”
She met his eyes, gray and burning. She’d never seen gray fire before. She memorized the color because she knew she would never see it again for the rest of her life. But she saw it tonight and that would be enough.
“Please.”
He pressed his hand into her throat. The world turned white as the morning.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered once more in her ear.
She told him.
Then she earned it.
43
THE KNIGHT
Wesley moved carefully inside Laila. As much as he wanted to let go, he remembered her soft whimpers of pain, remembered she’d never done this before, remembered that, this time, he was the experienced one who had to take the lead.
“You okay?” He kissed her neck and shoulder.
“More than okay.” She moved her leg higher up his back. “Are you okay?”
He laughed as he nuzzled the side of her neck. She smelled so good, like a warm kitchen, vanilla and strawberries.
“Beyond okay.” He pushed in again, a little harder this time, a little deeper. Laila rewarded him with a moan of pleasure, low and hungry. “How’s that for okay?”
Closing his eyes tight, Wesley focused on his breathing and tried to ignore that wet heat wrapped tightly around him. Looking at Laila was also too much of a temptation. Her lips red with kisses, her pink-tipped ni**les, her smooth skin he wanted to lick and nibble... And God, those long legs of hers. He could die with them wrapped around his back like that.
Wesley took slow, calming breaths. He knew where he wanted to go, but he refused to go there without her. Reaching out, he grabbed the bottom bar of the headboard and pushed himself up, putting room between him and Laila. Now only their hips met.
“Wes?” Laila’s confused tone brought him back to himself.
“I’m here. Changing position a little.” He pulled her down the bed a little as he rose up even more. Sliding a hand between their bodies, he found her clitoris and kneaded it. Laila gasped and clung to the sheets with desperate fingers.
He slowed his thrusts and concentrated instead on Laila’s pleasure. He could come any second now but he refused to do it until she did. He might never see her again after tonight, although his gut told him this was only the beginning of something, not the end. But whatever happened, nothing could change the fact that this was her first time and he’d make it good for her if it killed him.
And considering she was Søren’s niece, it might just kill him.
“Is that good?” He touched her the way she’d showed him she liked. And as swollen as her clitoris was, she clearly liked something he was doing to her.
“More than good,” she said, grinning and gasping for air.
Her breathing quickened even more and her hips moved in tight pulses against his hand. He took her by the wrist and brought her arm around his shoulder.
“Hold my neck,” he said, wanting her hands on him when she came, needing her touch as much as she needed his.
She dug her hands in the back of his hair and held tight to him. Her grip was nearly painful. He didn’t mind it at all.
He moved his fingers harder against her and her breaths stopped in the back of her throat. He felt her tightening around him, so tight even he winced from it. With a final near-silent whimper, Laila came, her inner muscles spasming around him. As much as he wanted to relish the victory of bringing her to climax, his body demanded its own release. He pushed back in, stretched out on top of her and rode her with long, full thrusts that left Laila writhing underneath him.
With a few short, sharp and final pushes into her he came, emptying himself out with more force than he’d ever felt in his life. The orgasm hit him behind his eyes and in the pit of his stomach. Even as he came, he knew he’d never come this hard in his entire life.
He collapsed on top of Laila and once more she wrapped herself around him—this time with both arms and both legs.
They breathed together and said nothing. He felt no guilt, no shame, no awkwardness. Carefully he pulled out of her and noted that Laila barely winced.
Rolling onto his side, he brought her with him, her back to his chest, his arms around her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, dropping her head to kiss the arm that encircled her.
“My pleasure. Literally.”
“And mine.”
“I was wrong,” Wes admitted. “That was a seriously good idea.”
Laila laughed and the sound filled the air like music.
“It will be a terrible idea if my uncle catches us,” she said, settling in against him. He kissed her shoulder, the back of her neck, kissed every part of her he could reach. “I hadn’t planned this far ahead.”
“It’s fine. He’ll only kill me. He’ll let you live.”
“And that’s fine with you?”
“Oh, yeah. Sex with you?” Wesley rolled her onto her back and covered her with his body again. “Worth dying for.”
44
THE KING
Kingsley stood shirtless in front of the cheval mirror in Daniel’s bedroom and examined the damage. After Nora had stabbed Marie-Laure in the thigh, his sister had pulled out the dagger and used it on him as he tried to take her down. He’d lied and said he’d shot Marie-Laure when she’d sliced his side open. He hadn’t needed to shoot her. Mistress Nora had paid attention during all those self-defense lessons he’d given her years ago. She went right for the femoral artery and had struck it clean. Marie-Laure had bled to death. He would never tell Nora that. She’d earned her clean hands. He would keep his bloody.