My teeth met, even as thorny heat dropped to my core.
The challenge in his eyes said that no matter what I decided—if I stayed or if I stormed back into my rooms—he would win.
Regardless, I wouldn’t back down now. I couldn’t.
And not one part of me wanted to when I kept my eyes on his and dragged a fingertip over the waistband of his night pants. His breath hitched, his giant body instantly tensing.
My head spun with the knowledge that just one touch could elicit such a response in this arrogant and cruel creature. “Are you going to teach me, then?” I whispered with a smile and pushed that fingertip under the elastic of his waistband. “Majesty.”
His skin was shockingly hot for a male with winter running through his veins.
“Of course,” he said, voice thick. “Nothing has ever given me more satisfaction.”
The air in the room became stifling. The flames in the sconces and fireplace guttered as the king regarded me with cool amusement that failed to hide the twitch to his jaw and the erection just a breath away from my hand.
Dipping lower, I encountered coarse hairs.
My stomach shook, and I sat back on my knees to tuck both hands into his waistband. Distracted by his warm and toned hips, I traced them, and gooseflesh arose.
Interesting, I thought. That a male as unstoppable as he would allow himself to produce such reactions.
“I half expected you to be an unresponsive statue,” I admitted.
Low and humor-loaded, he asked, “Disappointed?”
He knew I wasn’t. In response, I drew in a breath and tugged his pants to his thighs.
And almost flew backward off the bed when his cock bounced free right before my nose.
His laughter was a volcanic eruption that sent fire straight to my cheeks.
The heat melted quickly and settled into my chest as I gazed upon him in helpless wonder.
It was akin to cracking marble, the way that uninhibited sound transformed his cruel beauty into a hypnotic work of art. His cheeks rose high and tinged with color, his eyes ever so slightly creased and ashine.
He calmed, noting my fixation, and I found myself already missing the deep and throaty song I knew I’d never forget. “You are far more beautiful than you deserve to be,” I said with both awe and irritation.
Sobered completely, the king chewed the tip of his thumb as he surveyed me with some of that foreign light still lingering in his eyes. “One could say the same about you, Princess.”
The reminder of who we both were, of what I truly was to him, fell between us and chased all warmth from the room.
I ignored the bite of hatred that had me thinking of leaving and kept my eyes on his as I wrapped a hand around his cock. He jerked, almost imperceptibly.
His very thick cock, I realized, the heft and smoothness of him widening my eyes.
Florian bit into his thumb, smirking. My blood whooshed in my ears.
Needing to, I dropped my gaze before I did something more ludicrous than I already was, such as crawling over his body to kiss that smirk from his undeservingly handsome face.
Of course, lowering my eyes brought my attention to the heat pulsing in my hand.
He was long and large, which I’d already guessed from having him pressed against me, but nothing I imagined could have prepared me for the thick stone wrapped in soft skin.
Fascination warred with intimidation as I stroked my thumb over the vein beneath his shaft, from the engorged head right down to the base.
He groaned, the rumble spurring me to explore more with my fingers. Holding him at the base, I used my other hand to brush at the wetness leaking from the tip.
He shuddered, rising onto his elbows.
I paused, knowing I was doing this all wrong, and met his eyes. They were half-mast, his chest rising and falling heavily. His order rasped. “Keep going.”
Emboldened that he seemed to like my curious fingers, I did—until a sharp curse left him and he tucked the hair that curtained my face behind my ear. “Do you want to put my cock in your pretty mouth, butterfly?”
I blinked up at him, hating how the action likely conveyed my vulnerability and uncertainty. “I don’t know what to do.”
His fingers swept across my cheek to my jaw, pausing at my mouth. His thumb pulled at my lower lip, then caressed it. “Believe me when I say you cannot disappoint me.” He eased back down, but kept his eyes on me, shockingly earnest as he said, “I will not force you. Only do it if you truly want to.”
I looked at his cock, still snug in my hand, and moved back a little.
Again, I rubbed that vein with my thumb. I wanted to. He knew I wanted to. And as the fear of not knowing how to please him faded from his reassurance, I gave in and lowered to the reddened head.
My lips parted and skimmed the salty bead of desire. I licked his taste from my mouth.
Florian groaned, “Fuck.” His hips bucked beneath me.
I licked him, then ran my tongue down the long length. As I traced that vein I was growing obsessed with, my body continued to warm rapidly with hunger.
I wanted more. Everything.
But when I slid my tongue back up his length to see how much of him I could fit into my mouth, I released him halfway down his shaft with a moan and wet pop.
Then I climbed off his bed while wiping at my lower lip.
“Butterfly,” Florian warned between gritted teeth.
“Fair play,” I sang on my way to the adjoining door, adding before I closed it behind me with a mocking curtsy, “Majesty.”
The sound of crashing glass made me jump, then smile with more satisfaction than any fool should feel after enraging a faerie king.
My smug satisfaction was fleeting.
Not only because I spent the night twisting and turning in the bedding—so much so that Snow decided to sleep upon the carpet—wondering if Florian would barge through the adjoining door to finish what I’d started, but because of the visitor in the king’s study.
The door was closed, and though it was spelled for privacy, I still heard it when I paused in the hall to wipe yet another bizarre gathering of perspiration from my brow.
Faint feminine laughter, followed by a rare and brief bout of Florian’s own.
Zayla said nothing, but she gave Snow a tight look. The wolf had insisted on accompanying us to the kitchen once we returned from a quick visit outside, and her hackles rose when the guard got too close.
I hushed the tiny beast when she snarled at Zayla’s continued assessment, and whispered, “You’ll give away our attempt at eavesdropping.”
Zayla snorted and stayed in the hall as I trekked downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast, Snow trailing.
Kreed did not comment on the wolf, but the twins were delighted. “It’s true, then.” Arryn laughed and crouched before the cub to offer his hand.
Her lips peeled back, but he waited. Slowly, she crept forward to sniff his hand, then allowed the young male to pet her.
I set her awaiting meaty breakfast on the floor. “I call her Snow.”
“Creative,” Thistle teased, arms folded and a smirk curling his lips, while I took my usual perch.
The stool now sat at the end of the island bench, my berried oats and a glass of water waiting. My eyes stung at the sight—at the knowledge I was welcome somewhere.
I swallowed the unexpected emotion and tried to ignore the other one I couldn’t seem to kick aside. After a few mouthfuls, I failed miserably.