Page 132 of War Queen
There was something he needed to do.
He turned and strode back through the empty halls, his heart thrumming. The surge of the hunt raced through his veins. He reached the royal guest chamber and pushed open the door without knocking.
Phillip stood in the center of the room, his back to the door, reading a letter in his hands. He turned as Soren latched the lock behind him. Their stares locked, and Phillip’s lips parted, yet he didn’t speak.
His scent was faint—an autumn breeze—but one that Soren knew. One that he’d dreamed about.
Soren crossed the room, ripping his wrap down from his face as he closed the space between them. He caught Phillip just under his jaw and pushed him to the wall, covering his mouth with his own. To taste him was even better than he’d imagined, and it threatened his control—his very small scrap of control.
Soren was a larger man than the king, and he held him to the wall with a force. But Phillip wasn’t a man to be forced. He yielded willingly. Still, Soren felt the power of his body, and he slid his hand down and tightened it around Phillip’s neck. That power—held in his grip.
They broke from their kiss, and their eyes locked. Phillip reached his hand to Soren’s chest, spreading it wide across his skin, then ran it up toward his face. But Soren caught it. It was too intimate, too close. Too much.
“Do you not want me to touch you?” Phillip asked.
This man didn’t know him to touch him this way.
Phillip’s eyes moved back and forth between his. “Take what you want, then.”
Soren’s breath faltered. He would just give himself?
Phillip reached up and clasped the weapons strap across Soren’s chest and pulled Soren to him, bringing their mouths back together.
Then Soren’s control was gone. He spun Phillip to face the wall and stripped his vest and shirt from him. Linen tore, and buttons fell to the floor. Not that Soren cared. He pushed him hard against the stone. The muscle across Phillip’s back bulged. Soren let his eyes take in the beauty. Unlike his own back, marred by scars of battle and scars of the whip, Phillip’s skin was smooth. Perfection. Soren raked the pads of his fingertips down it, and red marks sprang to the surface. Phillip writhed under his bruising hold, and Soren gripped him harder.
“Do you want my pain?” Phillip panted.
Soren paused.Pain.
“Is that what you like?”
He frowned. There were times Soren liked pain—liked inflicting it, sometimes even receiving it. But he didn’t want Phillip’s pain. He loosened his grip. “No.” His voice came softer than what he’d expected. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Phillip turned to face him, and the corners of his mouth turned up. “I’m glad to hear it, although…” His lips parted slightly. “You don’t have to be gentle.” And the Aleon king sank to the floor in front of him.
Soren’s breaths came faster. Phillip unlaced Soren’s breeches and pulled them down, releasing his flesh and wrapping his hand around him. Soren let his head fall back. It felt… so good. Too good. And when Phillip’s mouth found him, he worried he might not be able to keep standing. He panted as he reached out and caught himself against the wall.
Never had he let someone be so free with him, so free in touching him. And never had someone made him want to relinquish control. He forced himself to keep it. “Get on the bed,” he rasped.
Phillip looked up at him, his lips still around his head. He took Soren all the way into his throat before pulling his mouth away, leaving a string of saliva between them. It was almost Soren’s undoing.
It took all his control to wait for Phillip to move to the bed before he came behind him. He gripped the nape of his neck and pushed the king forward onto his stomach. Slower, he told himself. He slid his length down Phillip’s center and positioned himself, but Phillip was tight against him. Too tight. Phillip had had a male lover before, but it was clear to Soren now with the king beneath him, he wasn’t a man accustomed to being taken. Soren was still wet from Phillip’s mouth, but not enough. He glanced around the room. On the small table near the bed was a tray of bread and cheese, with a side bowl of olive oil. Soren pulled back and took it. Then he dropped a trail of the oil between them and spread it with his fingers.
Soren repositioned. Lowering himself over the king again, he brought his mouth to Phillip’s ear and breathed, “Let me inside you.” Phillip’s body eased. Soren pushed against him, testing, and Phillip gave. Soren pushed harder, and they both gasped as he sank fully inside him. Then he stilled, giving them both a moment.
Soren had been with women before, but he’d never had the strength of a man. He’d dreamed about it, craved it—the hard steel of a masculine body, a body that could handle his own strength. With the softness of a woman, it took effort for pleasure to come. But here, with Phillip—pure power underneath him—it took effort to not lose himself completely.
He moved slowly to start, then faster. Harder. Phillip didn’t quail underneath him. Instead, he pushed back against him, asking for more. And Soren gave it to him.
Phillip’s body called to him—called him to own it, to relish it, to touch it. So he did. He curled his arm around Phillip’s hips and pulled him back hard, driving himself deeper. Phillip arched against him, reaching back and gripping Soren to pull him even deeper.
The king’s arousal fueled his own. He took Phillip’s flesh in his hand and stroked his length as he drove harder. They were both close now, their breaths shorter and faster. The heat built between them until he feared they would both catch fire. And then Phillip’s body tightened under him. Liquid warmth pulsed into Soren’s hand and onto the bed underneath them. It was too much to keep control, and he let out a growl as he shattered in his own release. He pushed himself deeper, then deeper still. He pushed until he was completely spent and empty, completely enraptured by this man.
They collapsed, still joined, both panting. The air smelled of male and sex and power, and Soren breathed it in. Everything about this king was intoxicating.
Phillip chuckled under Soren’s weight. “I’ll call for new bedding.”
Soren bared his teeth against his neck. “You say that like I’m finished with you.”
