Page 130 of Heartbreak Prince

“Vawn,” I breathe. “Oh… oh…” My head tilts back, and he plunges down to press his burning lips against my throat.

“No magic,” he whispers against my shuddering pulse. “Just us.”

“Yes, yes.” My body surges eagerly, instinctively. “Give me everything you have.”

“Everything?” He vents a raw chuckle. “I’ve got a crumbling kingdom and a stolen birthright.”

“It’s enough.” I cup his face, pushing back the pink strands of his hair. “I don’t need lands and titles and riches and glyphs. Just you.”

“Don’t make me cry, woman, or I swear—”

“You swear what?” I move beneath him, taking him deeper, and his silver eyes flash, dilated with pleasure.

“Shit, Syth. You’d better stop or I’ll come too soon. You know I like to take my time.”

“Let’s do a quick one,” I beg. “Quick and hard. Then we’ll take it slow.”

His gaze turns rebellious instantly, a naughty smile widening his lips.

“Oh no, Vawn. No…” I try to lock my legs and hold him inside, but he’s too quick for me—he’s already sliding out.

“I’m afraid I can’t oblige your impatience,” he drawls. “Remember, we’re playing a game.”

I throw him a scathing look and put my fingers on my clit, determined to please myself.

The second I do it, he grabs me and rolls me onto my stomach. The move is swift and graceful, like I weigh nothing. Sometimes I forget how strong he is—naturally stronger than me, despite my skill. He pins me there, with my breasts squished against the blankets.

For a second, my brain takes me back to the cottage by the sinkhole and the terror of the compliance glyph. My breath hitches, and I tense.

Immediately the pressure of Vawn’s hand eases. He sensed the change in my mood. “Are you all right?”

“I will be.” I shut my eyes. “Just thinking of that time—with that awful man—”

“Of course.” He stretches out beside me, face to face, and begins stroking my hair. “Can I do anything to help you?”

“Just that. It feels nice. And kiss me.”

The second his lips contact mine, everything else recedes, and it’s only the two of us again. His scent, his heat. His strong, slick tongue. His broad, soft lips. I turn on my side, and he moves with me, mirroring me. Synchronized to my mood, devoted to my pleasure.

I trace his features, loving him so much I can hardly speak. “My lord king,” I murmur.

His cock twitches against my thigh.

“You like that.” I smirk and kiss him again. “Your Majesty.”

“I want to take you,” he says between clenched teeth. “Say yes if you’re ready.”

“Yes, my lord k—”

It happens so fast that he’s inside me before I have time to say anything else. I’m on my back, thighs splayed, his shaft pumping into me and his hands pinning my wrists to the floor. My cunt is so wet that every thrust sounds thrillingly indecent.

Vawn’s back is to the fireplace, and the glow radiates around him, haloing his dark head. His eyes are burning ice, molten silver. I am overtaken, overjoyed, carried beyond myself and caught up with him. Usually I need more direct stimulation, but this time, the movement of our bodies and the surging thickness of his cock inside me is enough—maybe because it’s been days, or years, or an eternity. Maybe we’ve been waiting for each other forever.

The sex is different this time—sweeter, fiercer. We are more secure with each other, fully given and received. We transcend any sorrow of the past and any dread of the future. None of that chaos exists—only brilliance and pleasure, warm skin and wet lust, shaken breaths and quivering flesh. We are perfectly, violently one, and I climb toward the ecstasy with a series of sharp moans that peak in a shuddering cry.

As I clench around him, he relinquishes everything. I feel his body yield to mine, sense his relief as he comes apart, utterly melted, utterly mine. And somehow I know, with a fierce joy that could carry me through a lifetime, that he has never fucked anyone the way he fucked me just now.

We rest, limbs flung over each other, and then he leaves the room and comes back with a dish of snow, which he allows to melt on the hearth. I watch him curiously, sipping wine. When the dish is half full of cold water, the prince washes his feet meticulously, one at a time. Then he takes a bottle of glyph paint from the pocket of his discarded pants, searches my belt for my nail repair kit, and proceeds to craft a vibration glyph on the first toe of his right foot.