Page 59 of The Royal Art of Revenge

It’s one of delight. Of anticipation.

Of what could be.

I bring my lips back to meet his. Nerves pulse through my body, but as he responds to my kiss with slow strokes of his tongue, they calm. It’s all too easy to lose myself in the way he touches me.

Each one is gentle. Never too rough or too forceful. Just a soft, almost reverent exploration of my body until he undoes the belt of my dressing gown. I sit up and shrug it off, revealing nothing but my panties beneath.

His chest heaves. “You—”

“I stopped thinking you were coming at one point,” I whisper. “So, I got comfy.”

“Thank God for that.” His eyes roam over my body, from my pebbled nipples to where my pussy is pressing right against his erection. “Can I touch you?”

I nod.

He shifts, sitting up, and wraps one arm around my waist. His lips draw a path of tender kisses along my jaw and down my neck, and he slips one hand up beneath my top towards my breast.

Slowly, he cups it, brushing his thumb over my nipple. The only person who’s ever touched me there is me, and the unfamiliarity sends both a jolt of nervousness and pleasure through me.

He stills, but I whisper, “Keep going,” as I slip my fingers through his hair. He does as I say, lowering his mouth even further until it reaches my breast. My skin is hot beneath his mouth as he finds my nipple with his lips and gently sucks it into his mouth.

I drop my head back, gasping. He circles it with his tongue, teasing it in ways I’ve never imagined. His touch sears against my skin. My whole body is alight with sensations I didn’t know existed, and it’s almost overwhelming.

And we’ve barely begun.

Fuck.

How does anyone survive this?

Finn rolls his hips against me, pressing his cock against my core. He drops his hands to my thighs and slowly slides them up, edging his thumbs up the insides towards my pussy. He pauses and looks up to meet my gaze.

I nod, and he continues. I’m not uncomfortable at all—not like this. He was right. Knowing I’m not trapped and can move at any point is reassuring, even though I know he’d stop if I said a simple ‘no.’

But I don’t want to. I want to keep on like this, to see what else I can feel.

It’s strange. He’s both nervous and confident at the same time, and as his fingers glide through my wetness, he raises his head and brings his mouth to mine.

Slowly, he pushes a fingertip inside me.

The only person who’s ever touched me here is me.

I tense.

He stills, and I pull back from the kiss to breathe deeply.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “Keep going.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He pushes it further inside my pussy, and my muscles clench around him. His lips brush over mine, and I reach one hand between us to cling onto his shirt. I’m so much more exposed than he is, but it doesn’t bother me.

Weird.

I thought it would.

Was he right? Was our position the problem? What happens when we actually have sex? I can’t do it from here, can I? I don’t know what I’m doing, but what if I can’t be beneath him? Could he go—