Tags:
Romance,
paranormal romance,
love triangle,
Medieval,
Dragons,
Fae,
faeries,
Reincarnation,
Warriors,
Princess,
Amnesia,
Prince
an
animal in heat.
"I want you," he said.
No one had ever looked at her like that, or
spoke to her like she was so damned gorgeous it was painful. All
they’d ever seen was her scar.
Her body and mind decided right there that it
was okay to do this. She could get lost in Azoth’s arms, she could
have sex again and enjoy the feeling of someone else thinking she
was pretty. She was an adult and so was he, she could take this and
no one would say anything about it. It would be her decision.
“You’re beautiful, miva sakkra ,” Azoth
said, before he put his lips to her collarbone. As he kissed her,
his hand moved to her other nipple, giving it the same treatment as
the previous one. He didn't just play with her nipples either. His
fingers circled her areola, and that felt pretty damned good, too.
Even she had never been so thorough with herself.
“Can you read my mind?”
He laughed and pulled away. “You were
thinking you were beautiful as well? How vain you are, my little
pixie.”
She blushed. “I know I’m not, I meant—”
“You are beautiful, sakkra . Let
no one tell you otherwise.”
Her fingers clenched his shoulders. “You keep
saying that word. What does it mean?”
“ Sakkra ?”
She nodded.
“Love.”
Love. He was calling her his love. “I hope
for your sake I am who you think I am.” she said.
“You are,” His large hand cupped the back of
her head, and his thumb stroked her cheek. “I believe, that
somewhere beneath that spell, you believe it as well, otherwise we
would not be in this position.”
He was right. The realization startled her,
but he was most definitely right.
He kissed her again, and she welcomed the
familiar feel of his warm mouth on hers. His lips were soft and
welcoming, his tongue touching and then probing, sliding between
her lips and gliding against her tongue.
He tasted like something sweet and familiar,
like a fruit she hadn't eaten in so long and needed to have now
that she was reminded of how good it was. Diana pressed her mouth
back against his, thrusting her tongue forward, searching for more
of that sweetness that he had.
Azoth chuckled and held her tighter, but he
didn't let her dominate him.
He was right, he had to be. Otherwise she
wouldn’t be feeling the things she was right now, this wouldn’t be
so natural to her, so perfect .
Her legs spread easily with his guiding hand,
and he slipped within them. She felt his hard cock at the folds of
her sex, and then he was entering her in one smooth motion.
Diana tensed for the intrusion, expecting a
certain amount of pain. She was no virgin, but she didn't exactly
get around much either, and he was big man. A very big man.
There was no pain. All she felt were the
pleasurable sensations of a cock inside her, stretching her and
touching every part of her inner walls. Then there was the
sensation of being incredibly full.
Incredibly full and incredibly good, that was
how she felt. Her inner walls clamped down on him, pulsing around
him, and pleasure was already building within her, something she'd
needed so much without even realizing it. Not just the pleasure
either. She'd needed him.
Diana breathed a sigh and locked her ankles
around his ass. He lifted her from her seat within the water, just
enough so that he could stand with her, holding her back against
the edge of the pool with both of their middles still submerged.
Then he began to move.
Diana gasped, and she arched against him, her
head falling back as she groaned helplessly.
This was so much better than she'd even hoped
for, and Diana canted her hips back against his, meeting him and
creating a rhythm that would bring her closer to the edge that much
faster.
Usually during sex, Diana rarely felt more
than a little sizzle as she tried to keep up with her partner, but
now, with Azoth’s pulsing shaft inside her swollen sex, pumping
back and forth, back and forth, touching everything, everywhere,
places no one else had ever reached, it was
Mark Twain, Sir Thomas Malory, Lord Alfred Tennyson, Maude Radford Warren, Sir James Knowles, Maplewood Books