Page 149 of The Royal Art of Revenge

She makes a sound that’s somewhere between a sob, a laugh, and a snort, falling against me.

“I’m not joking.” I grit the words out through a clenched jaw, the sight of her tears making my heart clench uncontrollably. “Anyone who hurts you deserves nothing short of death.”

“There’s a time and a place for their pain,” she murmurs into my shoulder, circling her arms around my neck. “I can endure this for now.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“I shouldn’t have had to endure anything I’ve been through.” Her voice is so soft, so melancholy, that my entire body aches with sadness. “But I have. And I’ll keep doing it until everything that should be mine is back in my hands.”

“Like me?” I ask teasingly.

“Like you,” she whispers, pressing her body tightly against mine. “Finn, you won’t leave me, will you?”

“Never.” I sweep her hair away from her face and kiss her jaw, dotting a trail of tiny kisses to her ear. “I’m yours, Harriet Sinclair. I always have been. I would die before I ever became someone else’s.”

“Good boy,” she murmurs, pressing her hips against me with a gentle flex of her spine.

I chuckle darkly. Despite the mixture of sadness and anger flowing through me, her words light the fire of another emotion, and my cock gets hard.

Shit.

“I know what you need.” I brush my lips across her shoulder and slide my hands down her body to her arse. My fingers dip beneath the fabric of her skirt, and I tug it up to her waist, exposing her to the cool air of the room. “Sit up a sec.”

Hattie raises her hips, and I reach between us, undoing my trousers. I ease my erection out of my underwear and turn my attention to her, softly stroking along her underwear.

She’s wet, but it’s not quite enough for me to push inside her.

I tuck her underwear to the side and touch her wet pussy. My lips trace gentle kisses along her neck, my teeth occasionally grazing her sweet skin, and a tiny gasp escapes her as I push the tip of my finger into her.

“Finn,” she breathes.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I say quietly, pushing my finger all the way in. “I want to make you feel better, not worse.”

“Mmph.” She clenches around me, and after I ease a second finger in, spreading them slightly inside her, I remove my hand and place the tip of my cock at the entrance to her pussy.

“Sit down,” I order her, holding her waist tightly while keeping my cock in place.

Slowly, Hattie lowers her hips, edging my dick inside her little by little. She hisses at the halfway point, but after a couple of deep breaths, she keeps going until she’s fully taken me inside.

“Are you okay?”

She nods, curling into me again. She rests her head on my shoulder and turns her face into my neck, clutching my shirt tightly in her fist.

“Good. Let me get comfortable.” I suck her wetness from my fingers and reach behind me for the throw blanket on the back of the sofa, then tug it down. Using all the cushions within my reach, I create a comfy space for me to lean back on and manoeuvre our bodies so we’re no longer sitting upright.

“That’s better,” she mumbles, adjusting her legs without letting my cock slip out of her.

There’s a hint of exhaustion in her tone, and with us covered by the blanket, I once again wrap my arm around her body and softly stroke her hair with my other hand.

“Rest now, baby.” My lips fall to the top of her head in a lingering kiss. “Nobody can hurt you here.”

She tightens her fist, clenching the fabric of my shirt a little tighter. “Are you comfortable?”

“My cock is inside you, and you’re in my arms. I cannot be any more comfortable.”

“Idiot.” She shudders, momentarily tightening around my cock. “Why this?”

“You calmed down when I was inside you after your panic attack that time. I feel as though I’ve uncovered some black magic.”