Page 117 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

Something feral flashed in his eyes. In one smooth motion, he hooked his fingers in my underwear and dragged them down my legs. The cool air hitting my heated skin made me shiver. His hand returned, fingers sliding through my wetness, and I couldn't stop the moan that tore from my throat.

"So fucking perfect," he groaned, circling my clit with just enough pressure to make me crazy. "I've dreamed about this. About tasting you, feeling you come apart—"

"Then stop talking and do it."

He actually laughed, the bastard, but then he was moving down my body, pushing my dress up around my waist. When his breath hit my inner thigh, my whole body tensed in anticipation. His hands gripped my hips, holding me still.

"Look at me," he commanded.

I met his eyes—those gray-blue depths now almost black with want. Then he lowered his mouth and licked.

The first stroke of his tongue ripped a cry from my throat. He groaned like I was the best thing he'd ever tasted, the vibration sending shocks through my core. His tongue worked me with devastating skill—circling, flicking, then flattening to lick long stripes that made my thighs shake.

"Oh God—" My hands fisted in his hair, not sure if I was trying to push him away or pull him closer. The pleasure was almost too much, building too fast.

He slid one finger inside me, then another, curling them perfectly while his mouth stayed focused on my clit. The dual sensation sent me spiraling. I was babbling, saying things I'd never said before—begging him, cursing him, praising him.

"That's it," he growled against me. "Let me hear you. Tell me how good it feels."

"So good—fuck, Zane, don't stop—"

He added a third finger, stretching me, and the slight burn mixed with pleasure pushed me right to the edge. His fingers pumped faster while his tongue worked ruthlessly, and then he sucked—hard—and I shattered.

The orgasm tore through me like lightning. I cried out, back arching off the bed, thighs clamping around his head. He worked me through it, gentling his touch as I came down, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs.

When I finally opened my eyes, he was watching me with pure male satisfaction. His lips were wet and swollen, and the sight sent another pulse of heat through me.

"Come here," I managed, voice wrecked.

He crawled up my body, and I could taste myself when I kissed him. My hands went to his pants, fumbling with the laces, and he hissed when I finally freed him. He was hard, heavy in my hand, and when I stroked him, his head fell to my shoulder with a groan.

"Mia, I need—" His voice broke when I squeezed. "I need to be inside you."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

He positioned himself, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, and looked at me one more time. "This changes everything."

"I know."

He pushed in slowly, letting me adjust to his size. The stretch burned in the best way, filling an emptiness I hadn't known existed. When he was fully seated, we both stilled, breathing hard.

"Okay?" he asked, voice strained.

"Move. Please move."

He withdrew almost completely, then thrust back in, setting a slow, deep rhythm that had me clawing at his back. Each stroke hit something devastating inside me, building the pressure again impossibly fast.

"Harder," I demanded. "Stop being so fucking careful—"

He growled and snapped his hips, driving deeper. The new angle made stars burst behind my eyelids. He fucked me like he was trying to prove something, each thrust claiming, branding.

But then he winced, face going pale, and I felt the warm trickle against my hand where it rested on his chest.

"You opened your wound," I said, pushing at his shoulders. "Zane—"

"I don't care—"

"Well, I do." I shoved him onto his back, ignoring his protest. His wound was seeping blood through the bandages, and he was sweating from pain. "Let me."