His breath touched the nape of my neck, and then I felt his lips there. “Yes.”
I wanted to ask him why one would attempt to disturb the process, but his hands made their way to my hips. His fingers slipped beneath the thin lace and he began to lower it.
My pulse sped up as I looked over my shoulder, seeing only the top of his bowed head as he drew the cloth down my legs, and then that too joined the gown on the floor. His mouth brushed against the curve of my ass, scattering my thoughts. Then his lips glanced off the dip of my lower back, the center of my spine, and then the nape of my neck as he rose once more.
“Tell me something, na’laa,” he said, turning me in his arms. “Is that how you survive now?”
I looked up, my gaze immediately locking with his. The blue had deepened to a color like the sky at dusk, seeping into the other hues. “What do you mean?”
He gathered my hair, dragging it back over my shoulder. “Do you still survive by doing whatever is necessary?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Thick lashes lowered, shielding his eyes. “Is that why you decided to stay tonight?”
My stomach skipped. “No.”
“Truly?”
A tremor skated down my arms as I lifted them, curling my fingers along the sides of his tunic. In my chest, my heart pounded as I tugged his tunic up. Silent, he took over, removing his shirt, so I reached for the flap on his pants. Unhooking the buttons felt nothing like the first time I’d done this with him. Nor did it when I drew the soft, worn material of his pants down.
“Yes,” I answered as he stepped out of his pants. I placed the palms of my hands against his stomach, eyes closing as I soaked in the feel of his smooth skin beneath my hands. Another tremor went through me. “Truly.”
The Prince said nothing as I ran my hands over his chest, thinking about how his flesh really was made of stone. For several moments, I allowed myself to get a little lost in just touching him. The friction of his hard skin against my much softer hands. The tight dips and rises of his stomach. The corded muscles. I had no idea what I must’ve looked like to him, but the novelty of touching another was far too strong to resist. He didn’t stop me. He just stood there, allowing me to explore, much like I allowed him to do the same, and for that, I didn’t think he could ever understand what he’d given me as I lowered myself onto my knees before him, the stone of the floor as hard as his skin but cold.
I opened my eyes, lifting my gaze to the rigid, thick length jutting out from his hips. “You’re beautiful,” I whispered.
His head tilted slightly, exposing one . . . deeper-hued cheek to the lamplight.
My lips parted. “Are you . . . blushing?”
“Am I?” He sounded genuinely uncertain.
There was something wholly charming in that faint stain to his cheeks— that someone as powerful and otherworldly as a Deminyen could blush. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Thorne,” he corrected. “I don’t think I’ve ever blushed before.”
“Perhaps you have and no one has told you.”
“Many wouldn’t have the courage to do so,” he remarked, head straightening. “But I think this is a . . . first.”
It probably wasn’t, but I liked the idea of being the first to make the feared Prince of Vytrus blush. I smiled as I ran my hands along his thighs, focusing on his length. On my knees, I had to stretch to reach him, he was so absurdly tall. I dragged my hands over his skin, feeling the hard curve of his ass and then the lean flesh of his hips once more, all the while my blood thrumming. His size was impressive . . . and intimidating, and even if this weren’t something I hadn’t done in a while, I still would’ve felt nervous— excited but nervous.
“I was thinking,” I said, feeling bold and wanton. “That since you already had dessert, it would only be fair that I too have some.”
His fingers grazed my cheek before slipping into my hair. “Then have it.”
There was no hesitation, no uncertainty or pretense. I was on my knees before him, touching him, because I wanted to be, and there was nothing in my mind but my own thoughts. My hands didn’t shake as I wrapped my fingers around him, but he did. It was a slight tremor as my grip tightened on him, and I felt it again as my breath teased the head of his cock. I drew my hand up his length, feeling those slight ridges as I glanced up at him.
Air snagged in my chest. There was a faint golden blur to his shoulders, his arms. His head was bowed, hair falling forward and against the sides of his face. I couldn’t see his eyes, but his stare was intense and hot. It fanned the fire already simmering in my veins. The fingers in my hair curled.