Page 73 of Consort's Glory
Oh. Only then did she recall the fact that he could tell immediately if someone was lying. Margot blinked owlishly down at him, taking in his wild-eyed gaze and the blue flush in his high cheekbones. Theodore’s expression was hard, almost mulish, at odds with the dark desire in his eyes.
This is important, she realized.
Because if she said she wanted it but was unsure, he would know. Unspoken but crystal clear to her was the understanding that, should her answer be anything less than the unswerving truth, he would stop.
A different kind of warmth bloomed in her chest. He’s taking care of me.
Swallowing the unwanted lump in her throat, Margot tentatively ran her fingers through his silky hair. When he tilted his head into her touch, shamelessly seeking more, that warmth in her chest expanded to a painful degree.
How could she ever look at him as anything other than this person he was now? The image of him as a cool, arrogant sovereign had been completely scrubbed from her mind. All she saw now was the tenderness under the lust, the yearning stranger she longed to know beneath the veneer of a predator.
Her answer was soft but sure. “Yes.”
He waited, unmoving, until she sucked in a fortifying lungful of cold, slightly musty air to continue, barely audible, “Yes, I want your fingers and then your cock in me, Theodore.”
A hiss of air from between his clenched teeth was all the warning she got before he slid two fingers inside her. Margot tensed, her muscles rippling around him as she tried to adjust to the sudden change. His fingers were considerably larger than her own, and there was a sharp bite of pain before any pleasure bled through.
It was helped along by the fact that Theodore had closed his lips around her clitoris. He teased her with the tip of his tongue, making her squirm as he slowly began to pump his fingers in and out of her, and then changed his rhythm to include hard, sucking pulls.
Without thinking about it, Margot pressed his glove against her chest, the leather sliding against her perspiration-slicked skin, and covered the hand on her breast with her own, encouraging him to squeeze her, to run the tips of his claws over the tight bud of her nipple again and again.
His clawtips were freezing and sharp enough to tear through flesh easily. She’d seen him do just that to more than a few expensive cuts of raw meat. Still, somehow, the feeling of them dragging along her skin made the tension in her wind tighter, hotter, until she was rocking hard against his mouth and fingers.
“Theodore, please, I need… I need it harder.” Margot arched her back, trying to press herself more firmly against his mouth, chasing that hard, delicious friction that would push her over the edge.
Picking up on her urgency, Theodore stopped his teasing licks and settled into hard swipes and pulls of his tongue. His hand moved faster and deeper, curling slightly so that the blunt tips of his fingers could rub against the rippling wall of muscle.
Margot opened her mouth, but there was no scream, no cry of pleasure. When her orgasm broke, it stole her breath, her thoughts, her very heartbeat. There was nothing except Theodore and luscious, all-consuming pleasure.
And it didn’t end.
Her habit was to stop as soon as the initial sparks of orgasm flared, her skin too sensitive to continue, but Theodoredidn’t stop. He didn’t let up. He continued his ruthless pace. Her orgasm came in waves, lapping constantly over her as he guided her through each swell, urging her to take more, to submit to a pleasure she could never manage on her own.
It felt like hours before she finally came down from the precipice he balanced her on. Margot sagged bonelessly into the cot as Theodore panted between her legs, his fingers still firmly, possessively held inside her.
The Gloriae said that heaven was a riverbank thronging with souls lovingly tended by the goddess Grim, but Margot thought they were bald faced liars.
Heaven was Theodore Solbourne’s face between her thighs.
Echoing her thoughts, he grated, “Fucking glorious,” against the skin of her inner thigh. His mouth was wet, leaving a cold trail along her overheated skin. “I’m going to eat your cunt every day for the rest of my life, Margot Goode. That’s a fucking vow.”
Embarrassment, and the slow fade of overwhelming lust, made her shy. Margot turned her head away from him and wiggled her hips. “You can, ah, stop touching me now. I finished.”
His answering snort had a distinctly smug ring to it. “I know. That doesn’t mean I want to stop touching you, though.” To prove his point, he curled his fingers again, rubbing with delicious slowness until Margot saw stars. She was too sensitive, definitely not ready for another round, but it felt so good.
“See?” He was absolutely smug. “Why would I stop when I can still get you to make that face?”
To save her bones from melting away completely, Margot shook her head and reached down to tug at his hair. “How can I touch you if you’re too busy touching me?”
That got his attention.
An avaricious look entered Theodore’s dark eyes. “You want to touch me?”
* * *
Theodore watched Margot’s elegant, sweat-slicked throat move with a hard swallow and thought, She’s going to kill me.
Not that he minded. If surviving an attempt on his life by his father, then a childhood with Valen and Delilah as his combat instructors, and then six successive challenges for his throne came to his life ending between Margot Goode’s thighs…
