HEIR | The Cursed Monarchy | Book 1

Treachery: Part III, Chapter 16

Be forewarned, this chapter contains mature content. 

At some point in the middle of the night, Cecily finally let herself drift. Her mind was still cloudy; her body still trembling of its own volition. She had no idea how much time had passed before she opened her eyes to find Daire lying so close to her; his lips whispering the sweetest of words in a soothing, melodic tone, accompanied by feather-like touches on her cheeks, eyes, nose, lips, and neck.

With such devotion, he continued to whisper, to touch, to lull her into the depths of sleep; and she felt the weight of his words, even though she was too weary to understand them. Perhaps it was another spell, but for the first time in years, she did not care what happened to her, nor did she even try to resist the mesmerizing litany that stole through her tired, sated mind like a prayer.

Even more slowly and with great care, he traced a line of kisses toward her mouth, speaking his words of admiration, sharing his adoration of her, lips to lips, heart to heart. Gradually she opened her lips to him, first on a small sigh, and then with a bit more interest, her eyes not leaving his while her tongue searched the riddles of his mouth. But he continued to speak to her, not with his lips, but with the rest of his being – hands moving appreciatively over her shoulders and between her breasts, gentle and encouraging, drawing lazy patterns on her cool skin.

Her own arms were still bound from earlier explorations, and she ached to release them.

"Oh, no you don't, my raven," he whispered into a kiss.

She wondered if the renewed eagerness of her mouth and her legs, both unabashedly reaching for him, told him all he needed to know about her desire.

"Daire, please," she gasped. While her feet rasped up the sides of his legs, the tickle of her skin against the hair there was unbearably pleasurable, and her mouth grasped his in earnest. The wetness of their kisses was noisy against the background of the hearth fire and their beating hearts.

"I like it when you beg," he murmured.

"What happened last night?" she asked, smiling as she arched into his mouth and hands.

"You fell asleep on me." His hands were suddenly everywhere, rediscovering each small area of her body that was sensitive to his touch. "Don't let that happen again," he growled when his fingers reached between her legs, realizing how ready she was for him, indeed.

Cecily couldn't hide her reaction and when his fingers found her core, she whimpered, needing something other than his fingers inside her. "Stop teasing me," she said harshly, her mouth falling open as pleasure ripped through her body. "Please!"

"You made me wait," he scolded her. "I don't like waiting."

"My prince," she whispered hoarsely. "You should have woken me."

"You were far too weary after the second time," he said, smiling triumphantly as he pulled his hand away from her wetness.

And then, he rolled over onto his back, drawing her with him and sitting up with her, before her confusion broke the spell of their coupling. Releasing her from her bonds, she seemed to know exactly what to do, and that shouldn't have surprised him, but he hid it anyway by dropping his head back and letting her take him over.

And take him over she did. Cecily no longer cared if she was bewitched or damned or anything else she would have to pay for later. At that moment, she had no idea how she managed without his touch for so long and there was no doubt that he was incredible, a temptation and a sin to be sure, but one she could – and would – no longer resist. She reached down and took hold of his most intimate part beneath her, seizing control as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, realizing how hungry she suddenly felt for the power he was offering her.