Page 73
Story: Modern Romance June 2025 1-4
‘Better?’ he asked roughly.
‘Yes…’ It came out on a gasp, the acuteness of the pleasure making her moan. ‘Yes… More.’
Tiberius bent and kissed her, then his mouth moved down to her throat, the sharp edges of his teeth grazing the delicate cords of her neck. ‘You enjoy this?’ he growled, and the deep velvet sound of it was like a stroke against her skin. ‘Giving yourself to a Benedictus? To your father’s enemy?’
Maybe it was wrong to find that so erotic, but she did. ‘Yes,’ she moaned again. ‘I like it. I want more.’
He moved faster, harder, and she began to understand what he meant by roughness, because he wasn’t gentle. His grip was almost painful. But she loved it. It made her feel strong that he didn’t hold himself back. It made her feel powerful.
‘More,’ she repeated, turning it into a demand. ‘Don’t hold back from me, my king. I’m not as delicate as you think.’
He growled then, and before she could take another breath he pulled out of her, flipping her over onto her front. Then he gripped her hips hard and slid back inside her from behind, moving faster, harder, deeper.
Guinevere pressed her hot face into the pillow as pleasure drew into a tight knot inside her, the pressure almost unbearable. Then he slipped a finger beneath her, finding the most sensitive part of her, stroking firmly. And that hard, tight knot burst suddenly apart.
She screamed against the pillow as the orgasm crashed over her, and as she shook and shook she dimly felt him move faster, then fall out of rhythm, heard his own harsh roar of release in her ears.
She lay there for several stunned seconds, listened to both of them breathing hard. Then with firm hands he withdrew from her, before pulling her into the warmth of his body, turning her over onto her back and taking her chin between his fingers. His burning gaze swept over her, as if checking she was unharmed, before settling on her face.
‘Did I hurt you?’ he asked. ‘Give me the truth, now, lioness.’
‘No,’ she said huskily, tremors still shaking her. ‘Not at all.’
He said nothing for a long moment, and she was distracted by the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the lines around his mouth. He had been working hard. Perhaps too hard.
Without thinking, she reached up and touched his cheek. ‘You look tired.’
‘I am.’ He made no move to avoid her touch, only stared down at her as if he couldn’t look away. ‘But I couldn’t go to sleep because someone was already in my bed.’
The faint trace of humour in his voice was unexpected, and she smiled. ‘Sorry. I thought the direct approach was better.’
‘I’m not complaining.’ He turned his head against her hand, brushing her fingertips with his mouth. ‘You’re very brave, though. To beard me in my den, so to speak. Especially after what I told you today.’
‘I think your bark is worse than your bite.’
His eyes glinted wickedly. ‘How can you know when I haven’t bitten you yet?’
A delicious shiver ran through her. ‘When you said that you like it rough…is biting a part of that?’
‘Sometimes.’ He leaned down and kissed her again. ‘I meant what I said,’ he murmured against her mouth. ‘You will be in my bed every night, and you will be my wife in every way from now on. Do you understand?’
She sighed, the feel of his mouth on hers like a cold drink of water in a parched desert. ‘Yes.’
He trailed kisses down her throat. ‘And I will not divorce you. You will stay my queen from now on.’
Another sigh escaped her as, unbelievably, her body began to wake once more. ‘Yes,’ she repeated.
He lifted his mouth from hers, then took her hand, guiding it to the hard, flat plane of his stomach and down. His skin was hot, and it felt like satin, and she was once more hungry.
‘Shall I show you the proper respect that a war prize should give to her king?’
Her mouth went dry as he wrapped her fingers around the rapidly hardening length of his shaft. ‘P-please…’
So he showed her how to touch him, how to caress him—and, no, she didn’t have to be gentle. She could be rough as she wanted. Then he guided her mouth to him, so she could worship him there, as he’d worshipped her, and she loved it.
He tasted good, and the feel of him in her mouth was good too, and when that got too much he pulled her up and lifted her, settling her down on him and showing her how to ride him.
In fact, he showed her many other things too, keeping her up well into the night. And she didn’t even think about going to her little room, not once. Instead she fell asleep in his arms, exhausted.
‘Yes…’ It came out on a gasp, the acuteness of the pleasure making her moan. ‘Yes… More.’
Tiberius bent and kissed her, then his mouth moved down to her throat, the sharp edges of his teeth grazing the delicate cords of her neck. ‘You enjoy this?’ he growled, and the deep velvet sound of it was like a stroke against her skin. ‘Giving yourself to a Benedictus? To your father’s enemy?’
Maybe it was wrong to find that so erotic, but she did. ‘Yes,’ she moaned again. ‘I like it. I want more.’
He moved faster, harder, and she began to understand what he meant by roughness, because he wasn’t gentle. His grip was almost painful. But she loved it. It made her feel strong that he didn’t hold himself back. It made her feel powerful.
‘More,’ she repeated, turning it into a demand. ‘Don’t hold back from me, my king. I’m not as delicate as you think.’
He growled then, and before she could take another breath he pulled out of her, flipping her over onto her front. Then he gripped her hips hard and slid back inside her from behind, moving faster, harder, deeper.
Guinevere pressed her hot face into the pillow as pleasure drew into a tight knot inside her, the pressure almost unbearable. Then he slipped a finger beneath her, finding the most sensitive part of her, stroking firmly. And that hard, tight knot burst suddenly apart.
She screamed against the pillow as the orgasm crashed over her, and as she shook and shook she dimly felt him move faster, then fall out of rhythm, heard his own harsh roar of release in her ears.
She lay there for several stunned seconds, listened to both of them breathing hard. Then with firm hands he withdrew from her, before pulling her into the warmth of his body, turning her over onto her back and taking her chin between his fingers. His burning gaze swept over her, as if checking she was unharmed, before settling on her face.
‘Did I hurt you?’ he asked. ‘Give me the truth, now, lioness.’
‘No,’ she said huskily, tremors still shaking her. ‘Not at all.’
He said nothing for a long moment, and she was distracted by the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the lines around his mouth. He had been working hard. Perhaps too hard.
Without thinking, she reached up and touched his cheek. ‘You look tired.’
‘I am.’ He made no move to avoid her touch, only stared down at her as if he couldn’t look away. ‘But I couldn’t go to sleep because someone was already in my bed.’
The faint trace of humour in his voice was unexpected, and she smiled. ‘Sorry. I thought the direct approach was better.’
‘I’m not complaining.’ He turned his head against her hand, brushing her fingertips with his mouth. ‘You’re very brave, though. To beard me in my den, so to speak. Especially after what I told you today.’
‘I think your bark is worse than your bite.’
His eyes glinted wickedly. ‘How can you know when I haven’t bitten you yet?’
A delicious shiver ran through her. ‘When you said that you like it rough…is biting a part of that?’
‘Sometimes.’ He leaned down and kissed her again. ‘I meant what I said,’ he murmured against her mouth. ‘You will be in my bed every night, and you will be my wife in every way from now on. Do you understand?’
She sighed, the feel of his mouth on hers like a cold drink of water in a parched desert. ‘Yes.’
He trailed kisses down her throat. ‘And I will not divorce you. You will stay my queen from now on.’
Another sigh escaped her as, unbelievably, her body began to wake once more. ‘Yes,’ she repeated.
He lifted his mouth from hers, then took her hand, guiding it to the hard, flat plane of his stomach and down. His skin was hot, and it felt like satin, and she was once more hungry.
‘Shall I show you the proper respect that a war prize should give to her king?’
Her mouth went dry as he wrapped her fingers around the rapidly hardening length of his shaft. ‘P-please…’
So he showed her how to touch him, how to caress him—and, no, she didn’t have to be gentle. She could be rough as she wanted. Then he guided her mouth to him, so she could worship him there, as he’d worshipped her, and she loved it.
He tasted good, and the feel of him in her mouth was good too, and when that got too much he pulled her up and lifted her, settling her down on him and showing her how to ride him.
In fact, he showed her many other things too, keeping her up well into the night. And she didn’t even think about going to her little room, not once. Instead she fell asleep in his arms, exhausted.
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