With a final, powerful thrust, he was seated fully inside her.
He propped himself up on his forearms, searching her face.
“You’re all right?”
“Yes.” Camilla’s voice was breathless. All right was an understatement. His size filled her beyond what she’d imagined she could take. She felt every twitch of him, every throb of herself responding to that silent call. She’d never felt more alive.
Tentatively, she gripped his elbows and shifted her hips, sliding across the marble to take him impossibly deeper. He pulled out with a hiss and then thrust back in. God, he was enormous, taking up every trembling inch of her, owning her flesh with each stroke.
He hadn’t lied. He would ruin her.
Camilla wasn’t sure how anyone else would ever compare.
She caught the sharpness in his gaze moments before snowflakes began to fall across her skin. He must have sensed she’d thought of others. The territorial, beautiful beast.
“No one will.” He pulled out, leaving only the tip inside before slamming back home, earning a moan from her.
“What?” She was nearly incoherent from pleasure, waves of it crashing through her with each expert roll of his hips. But he needed to say it, confirm her thoughts.
“Touch you again,” he said. “I’d kill them.”
His mouth claimed hers, branded her. When they broke away from the kiss, his look said it all: mine. Something primal in her liked that. Wanted to claim him in return.
He must have read the look on her face. If he’d been holding back, he stopped.
Envy set a punishing pace, one hand now gripping her hip, anchoring her as each thrust went deeper, faster, moving her body with its force.
Camilla gripped his shoulders, nails viciously digging into his flesh, branding him.
Hers.
She matched his pace with her own, meeting each of his strokes, slamming their bodies together until they were both swearing out loud.
Sweat dripped down his chest, mixing with hers. Their limbs slid together everywhere, the sensation erotic. The sounds of their bodies slapping together, the musky scent of their union—it was heady. Wonderful. So beautifully wicked it made her pulse pound.
“Harder,” she commanded.
“Fuck, Camilla.”
His voice was raw, his grip on her tightening. They were both going to be scratched and bruised by the end of the night.
If he was going to ruin her, she wanted to ruin him, too.
Let him remember this night of passion, think of her hips crashing against his, their bodies shattering long before their stubborn wills ever would. She wanted him to shout her name, his orgasm ripped from the deepest depths of his soul.
“More,” she said, pulling him closer, tasting every inch of his salty skin she could.
She tugged his hair harder, his mouth crashing against hers before falling over her neck, her chest, her breasts. He licked and kissed and nipped until she thought she’d go mad.
He slipped a hand between them, playing with her sensitive clit, his cock still pistoning in and out. She was drenched, her body holding on to him tightly, needing him deeper.
He was branding her, forever imprinting himself in her body and worse, her heart. She reached down, gripping his length too. Her hands slick with their passion.
“Camilla.” He swore, fucking her so hard the chandeliers began to sway above them.
She hoped they’d bring his throne room crashing down around them. Still making love in the debris. Powerful. That was what she wanted to feel right now. She wanted him to remember this night the same way she would never forget it.
“Wait.”
He stopped instantly, his breath ragged. He was still buried deep inside her, cock throbbing with his heightened pulse. It was almost enough to make her forget her request. The way it hit that spot deep inside her… he was her god in that moment.
Though she’d never admit it.
She pushed at his chest. “I want to fuck you on your throne.”
He looked her over carefully, his expression inscrutable. Then he grinned.
“Lovely little deviant.”
His smile was radiant, warmer than any summer’s day, his eyes just as bright. It was an expression she’d never seen on him before, an expression that made her breath catch.
For a male whose displeasure chilled the air around them so often, she really shouldn’t have been surprised that his joy could rival the sun with its warmth.
In a flash, he was seated on the throne with Camilla on his lap, facing away from him.
She steadied herself by gazing out at the chamber. From where they sat now, with the tall arched windows directly behind them, they were both bathed in an otherworldly glow.
Camilla ran her fingers across the arms of the throne, admiring the silver filigree she hadn’t noticed from afar. Hunter-green velvet cushions softened the back and seat, with two covered sections on the arms. It was a beautiful throne. Powerful and sleek. Like the male who ruled from it.
Emeralds glittered in the metal, the gemstone meant to inspire envy. Across from them, towering canvases hung along the walls. Winged beings, florals, scenes of war and glory.
This, too, was a battle. One she’d not fought before.
Envy leaned back, legs spread wide, allowing her to do with him as she pleased. She shifted forward, flattening her palms on his thighs for better leverage.
Envy positioned himself against her entrance, waiting for her to make her move. His other hand stroked up her spine, encouraging, tender.
He misunderstood her hesitation. Camilla hadn’t paused out of nerves, she was allowing him to drink her in from behind, freezing the moment so it would imprint on him in some way. She knew he’d have a wonderful view of her backside, knew it would drive him wild. The idea of him being turned on, losing control, made her so wet it ought to be a crime.
She wanted him to picture her there, poised to take him. Right there on the seat of his power. Camilla wanted Envy never to forget that he might rule over his sinful court, but she’d ruled his body for one blissful moment in time. Just as he’d owned hers.
He expected her to take him inch by inch again, and she earned a surprised huff as she sank onto him in one hard motion. They both swore, their panting a mixture of pleasure and pain. He filled her so incredibly much, from this position, he went deeper.
Camilla slowly lifted herself up, all the way up his shaft, then dropped again, this time circling her hips. He swore. His mouth finding her shoulder, his teeth grazing her skin.
Envy gripped her hips, kneading her flesh as he allowed her to set the pace.
She rolled her hips, her movements slow and purposeful. Until she leaned forward, hitting a spot that made her moan, and fire seared through her veins.
After that, their game didn’t matter. Only their pleasure. Soon his thrusts matched hers, his hands moving her up and down as she bounced on his length.
Her muscles ached from the movement, tightened. She didn’t care.
Envy kissed along her spine, his fingers digging into her sides. His cock swelled inside her the same moment the most intense bolt of heat raced through her.
They both swore, fucking harder, knowing the end was upon them. She was no longer sure whether he was making love to her or she was making love to him. They were frantic, feral, pounding against each other as if their very lives depended on it.
Right before she came, his fingers slid across her slick folds, teasing her clit until she lost herself in the sensations, her orgasm roaring through her. Wave after wave of sparking pleasure hit her, tugging her under, over, and she yelled his true name.