His Virgin Princess. Grace Goodwin
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black bruising I’d seen over his right ribs. My hand traced the lines of his body, inspecting him as my gaze followed suit.
“I am healed, mate.”
“Hush.” It was my turn to fuss. To worry. To reassure myself that my mate was alive and well. Whole. Mine. I kissed the area where I knew the wound had been, over and over, telling him without words how important he was to me. He groaned, his hands coming to bury themselves in my wet hair, not to hurry me, but to connect us, to acknowledge my gift.
When I was ready, I worked my way down over his stomach, admiring every inch of this Elite Hunter and his hard body. He was too beautiful to be real. Definitely too beautiful to be mine. But I wasn’t going to argue with fate, or Warden Egara’s matching protocols, not now. Not when the hard tip of his cock was inches away from my lips.
I licked the tip, the drop of pre-cum glistening there. That was mine, too. He was mine. All of him.
“Dani.” My name was a plea and I was only too eager to give my mate what he needed.
As he had done, I was not gentle. I swallowed him down, took him into my mouth with an aggression that shocked me. But his growl, the shift of his hips, the tightening of his fingers into fists in my hair let me know he was under my control now. Mine, just like in the last dream we’d shared.
Wrapping my hand around the base of his shaft, I worked him with my mouth. My lips. Sucking. Licking. Tasting him. He was silk over steel. Big. Hard. I gave a moment’s thought to how this huge cock would feel in my ass. Stretching my pussy. The very idea made my pussy ache, my breasts feel heavy and full, my breathing quicken. I’d just come, yet I wanted it again. I needed more.
God, he tasted perfect. Wild and musky and all man.
I took him deep and lifted my free hand from his thigh to his balls, rubbing and playing with them. Claiming them as well. They were mine. His seed was mine. I would carry his child. I would be his everything.
My name burst from his lips, his hands buried in my hair held me to him as he came, his seed spicy, different. Mine. I swallowed it down, every single drop.
Spent, he slipped back into the water and pulled me into his arms. He held me like that for a long time, neither one of us speaking as his breathing slowed, his heartbeat calmed. We didn’t need to talk.
When I was a wrinkled, pruned thing, he lifted me from the tub and dried me off first before tending to himself. The pattern continued as we readied for bed. He made sure I brushed my teeth. Watched as I combed and braided my hair. When I asked for pajamas, he frowned and refused, saying we would always sleep skin to skin.
That was just fine by me.
And when he wrapped himself around me, every hard line of his body pressed against mine, and we drifted to sleep, for once, I didn’t feel the need to dream.
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