Page 84 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
The sound he made was animal, part growl, part roar, and entirely feral. “Just remember, you asked for this, pet.” He thrust into me with one brutal snap of his hips.
It decimated me in one brilliant, shining moment.
I had never been alive until now. Even all those moments with him where I’d hated and raged andfeltso keenly… they were nothing—nothingto this.
Dim stars compared to the blazing sun.
He pulled me onto him, standing there fully seated in me, smirking when I could open my eyes again. “I love how easily you’re undone by me.”
“I hate it.” It was a lie and wasn’t. But I kept my teeth gritted at the end as he pulled me off his cock, like I was an object to be manoeuvred and used, helpless.
“Yes,” he huffed out as he drove me back onto him with a speed that made me see stars. “You really looked like you hated that. You’re so fucking wet, Zita. You can’t hide the truth from me.” He spoke with breathless, vicious pleasure. “You love this.” He punctuated each word with a thrust, filling me exactly as I wanted, right at my limit.
“Are you telling me…” I caught my breath around his relentless rhythm. “You didn’t watch my whole performance with your cock this hard?”
“Your performance was filthy, and you know it.”
He kissed me again, squeezing my backside. One of his fingers slid into the crevice between my cheeks, circling my hole. Everything he did poured pleasure into me, rapidly approaching the brim.
When he pulled away a fraction of an inch, his golden cheeks were flushed and sweat slicked his chest. “If you’d carried on a moment longer, I’d have leapt onto the stage,” he rasped against my lips. “I’d have fucked you like this in front of them all. But this—you are mine. The sight of you coming apart is mine only. The feel of you doing it on my dick as you fight yourself—wanting it and not. Fuck, Zita. It’s all mine.”
I wanted to deny it, tell him he was wrong. But maybe it was something in the air of Elfhame that prevented lying, because I just couldn’t push the words from my lips.
Not when pleasure rose and rose with his inexorable drive into me, his cock skimming over my clit over and over.
“And yet,” I managed, somewhere between a huff and a moan, “you’re the one fucking the witch who cursed you. The witch you swore to kill.” I flashed my teeth at him, wishing they were still sharp as they’d once been. “What is it, Sepher? Do you think if you paint my insides with your come, it’ll lift the curse?” I tried to laugh, but it became a staccato series of cries driven out by his thrusts.
He growled, reverberating in my chest and open thighs, in the grip on my arse, and most intensely of all, in my pussy. My rapture overflowed in a breathless moan, followed a moment later by his, pulsing inside me with even hotter pleasure.
The aftermath was a silence broken only by our panting. His massive body surged with each breath as he held me on him. He needn’t have bothered—I hung limp in the silks, little shocks running through my muscles, out of my control.
At last, his great hand cupped my cheek and lifted my head. When I met his gaze, the look he gave me reminded me of the day he’d lifted me out of the snow.
“I’m all right.”
He gave a faint nod, then pulled from me with a wet sound and a soft grunt. Without a word, he untied me, lowering my feet to the ground. My knees shook, but I clung to the silks to keep myself steady.
What was that? It felt like an explosion of hate and anger, weeks of frustration, and now…
Now something altogether different hung in the air. Something I couldn’t quite place.
“Get your clothes on.” He jerked his chin towards the wings.
I obeyed, his come slicking my thighs as I moved. It should’ve disgusted me. Usually, the stuff did. But this was evidence of his need for me, the want he’d tried to mask behind punishment. It was a mark that said I was his property… but also that he was mine.
When I emerged, fully clothed, it was with my back straight and a strange kind of serenity.
The effect was slightly spoiled when he scooped me up and strode from the theatre.
But, for once, I didn’t have the energy to argue.
35
In silence, he carried me through the palace. He didn’t look at me, keeping his head high, but his jaw tensed and flexed like he had something he wanted to say but thought better of it. Eventually, he deposited me in the bathroom before disappearing into his bedroom. I went to the toilet and showered away the sweat and sex, still bathed in my strange serenity.
When I emerged, wrapped in a thick robe, he was sitting before the fire shirtless, a tumbler in hand, another on the low coffee table. He frowned into the pinkish flames before looking up at me. “Come here.” There was no harsh command or dare in his tone, just a rumbling softness.
I took the glass from the table and approached him slowly, in case this was a trap.
