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My body burned, tingling all over.
He was perfect. Thick, long, the dark hair on his groin neatly trimmed. He was everything I’d imagined he would be…except for one thing.
“You have tattoos right above your penis,” I said.
He looked down. “Yes, I do.”
He was amused by my reaction. I gazed at his cock, transfixed, as he moved past me to the bed. He lay on his back, propping his head and shoulders up on the pillows against the window.
Feeling bold, I climbed on my hands and knees to him. Hesitantly, I straddled his left leg and lowered myself onto his thigh. His skin felt warm and firm and I had the sudden urge to rub myself on him.
“What do they mean?” I asked softly.
“They’re status symbols,” he said. “I got the bottom ring when I became Brenin. The short, broken lines are for…other things. Then the thickest line is done for every decade in power.”
“What are the short lines for?” I pressed.
“Never you mind.”
I frowned, annoyed. He was protecting me, keeping me ignorant of something ugly. I could tell. Deciding now wasn’t the time to press him, I skimmed my fingers down his stomach.
Stopping right above his cock.
His lids flickered and the lines of his muscled torso relaxed. Gathering my courage, I wrapped my fingers around his cock, right below the head.
“Oh fuck,” he said in a rush.
He pulsed, hot and silky under my fingers. I’d thought about what cocks felt like, but this was so much different. He was twitching and his heartbeat thrummed under my grip. The rounded head was flushed and there was a bit of wetness at the tip.
“Can…can I lick it?” I asked.
His hips jerked and his lids flickered.
“Jesus,” he breathed. “Yes, please.”
Heart pounding, I braced myself on the heel of my hand and bent until he was inches from my face. He smelled good, like warm skin and soap.
And Merrick—intoxicating, dark oak. Solid and safe.
I put out my tongue and touched it to his tip and his cock twitched. His eyes were so bright, burning like blue flame. Locked on my face like there was nothing else in the world but me.
Feeling bold, I flattened my tongue and dragged it up his hard length. From the base all the way to the head where he tasted so good. I licked him again, like he was hard candy that would melt under my tongue.
Salty, clean, hot.
How many licks to get to the center of the Welsh King?
The thought made me want to giggle, but I was too horny to let myself get distracted. My core pulsed, hot and needy. There was a slippery sensation growing between my legs and a building pressure deep inside.
Mind blank, I put the head of his cock into my mouth and sucked. He groaned, the most delicious rough and deep sound. Almost like a growl. A tendon in his neck flexed. I swirled my tongue up the underside of the head, trying to get all the salty, sweetness of him.
“Cariad,” he breathed.
Experimentally, I pushed it a little further back on my tongue. He responded with another heavy moan. His hips worked slightly as I pulled back. Letting his cock slip from my mouth with a small pop.
“How was that?” I asked softly, suddenly shy.
He sat up abruptly, pulling me into his lap. His cock pressing against my inner thigh, wet from my mouth. His lips met mine, kissing me briefly before moving up to my temple. His arms were firm, holding me to his chest.
