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Eventually, I gather enough nerve to slide my palm between us, over the cut V of his pelvis. I wrap my hand around his hard length, marveling over his size, the velvety soft skin hot against my palm.
He groans as I grip him tightly and stroke as I was taught, from root to tip. For once, I actually want to do this. I want to drop to my knees and take him in my mouth. I want to watch the king of Islor fall apart under my touch.
“I need you to stop doing that so I can finish doing this.” His tongue sweeps into my mouth as his hand works me over mercilessly, its tempo increasing.
I stall but don’t let go, instead imagining it inside me. A rush of heat floods my lower belly.
“There it is,” Atticus whispers, and I don’t know how he senses it but moments later, a surge of ecstasy washes over me. I bite my bottom lip to keep my cries from slipping out as he coaxes wave after wave until my legs tremble.
Atticus hoists me in the air, guiding my legs around his hips. His tip rubs at my slick entrance—a tease of anticipation that I ache for—as he walks us back inside his chamber and shuts the door. I barely noticed the cold outside anymore, but the difference inside is stark. My bare skin promptly flushes.
“I’ve never met a mortal like you.” He sets me down on the bed, my legs splayed and waiting, my silk robe fanned out beneath me. “I’ve never met anyone like you. You are so kind and gentle, and patient, despite all that you have been through.”
“There are many like me.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “You have a way about you. A quiet bravery I admire.” He kneels on the bed before me, his palms beginning at my ankles, smoothing up my calves, my knees, to my thighs. Gripping the backs of them, he drags my body down to where he can fit himself in between. His hands collect mine and pin them above my head.
“I’ve been thinking about this for days.” Our mouths meet in the middle in a slow, tantalizing kiss that smothers my cries as he rocks into me, his fingers tensing around mine. My body accepts him—willingly, eagerly—as he sinks deeper and deeper, until I’ve taken all of him inside me.
His lips break free of my mouth to shift to my neck where he traces a line with his tongue. “This is what it’s supposed to feel like,” he whispers, his hips moving with skill, his hard length filling me completely with each thrust and yet not causing me the pain that so many others have.
“Atticus.” His name slips from my lips as I lose myself in the feel of him where we’re joined, all thoughts fleeing my mind.
“Say it again.”
“Atticus,” I echo.
It seems to spur him to go faster, harder, his lips a furious tangle against mine as our bodies meet with each thrust, my legs curling around his hips of their own accord as I feel myself growing impossibly wet for him.
My back arches as another flood of ecstasy hits, ten times more powerful than what he drew out on the terrace, rippling through me in crashing waves, my cries genuine and raw.
With a muffled curse, he slows, his shoulders tensing, his hands tightening. I feel his hard length pulse and my body welcomes his seed.
He collapses, bracing some of his weight with his elbows so he doesn’t crush me. His hot breath skates across my neck. Surely, he needs my vein. I’ll give it to him.
I’ll give everything to him.
“Impossible,” I whisper into the quiet dark as I stare up at the bed’s canopy.
Atticus’s heavy pants fill my ear. “What is?”
“It never could have felt like this with anyone else. Only with you.”
“I think you are right.” He releases my hands to pull my face to his for a kiss.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
ATTICUS
“Oh, to be a king.” Kazimir’s helm is tucked under his arm, his admiring gaze on Gracen. “Each one of them is more beautiful than the last.”
She sleeps soundly in my bed, her untamed curls sprawled across the pillow, the sheets strategically positioned to cover her mesmerizing body.
“Get out of here before she wakes and finds you hovering over her like a depraved soul.” I shove him through the doorway to my living area, following him out.
He chuckles. “But I am a depraved soul.”
I pull the door shut to not disturb her. “I know that, but she does not need to.”
“Do you not plan on saying goodbye before we head off to war?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, you are running out of time, my friend. We must go. The horses are ready.”
“Soon.” I peer out the windows at the dawn light.
“Have you not recovered?”
