Page 165
Story: Princes of Ash
When I reach for her now, my touch is gentle. Fingers cupping around the back of her head.
“You should hate me,” I tell her, almost hoping she’ll admit to it. Give me what I need to rebuild those walls. Stop touching me and soothing this buzzing need beneath my skin.
“I should,” she agrees.
“But?” I ask.Fearful.
“But I don’t.” Her face lifts upward. Bracing her hip with my hand, I draw her closer, feeling those bare tits press against my chest. “That’s what makes you so confounding. You’re so fucking hard to hate.”
Tilting her head with my hand, I drop my mouth to hers. Her lips are warm, eager, and needy, meeting my tongue with her own. Deepening the kiss, the sharp press of her nails punctures into my shoulders. The move spurs me on, my cock thickening, and I glide my hands along her ribs.
She arches away, hissing low.
“Shit, your back.” I drop my forehead to hers, shuddering at how she feels against me. “I’m sorry.” It’s been almost a week since she last touched me. I’m fucking losing it.
She shakes her head, exhaling slowly. “Don’t stop.” Her hot tongue darts out, licking my throat. “Unless you want to.”
“Fuck, no, I don’t want to.” I’ve never wanted anything—or anyone—more. I’ve wanted her since the day I saw her after winning my Fury, so timid and gorgeous in that back hallway. When I saw her in the dressing room for the masquerade. When I took her virginity, already bleeding from the throne. I’ve nevernotwanted her.
It’s just the reason that’s changed.
Seeing her on her knees, taking my father’s abuse in Pace’s place, made it clear that she didn’t just save me. She saved him—or, as I found out later, his goddamn bird, but it’s one and the same. And how many times has she been the reason Lex wasn’t out on the streets, looking for another hit of Scratch? It doesn’t matter that he relapsed. What matters is this:
No one’s rescued me before, and they sure as hell have never rescued my brothers.
Not until her.
I drop my hands under her backside and lift her into my arms. She immediately curls around me, arms and legs, and it’s all I can do to not slam her up against the door.
I carry her into the bedroom instead.
At the foot of the massive bed, I sit, positioning her on my lap, and then I just… look at her. Her hair is still wet from her shower, bleeding these tiny, cold droplets that do nothing to cool the fire beneath my skin. I sweep the heavy strands away from the swell of her tits. They’re bigger, a new marvel every time I get to see them, and I palm them in my hands, feeling her nipples pebble and tighten.
My touch is met with a pained hiss.
“Sorry.” Flinching, I move to draw my hands away. I’ve never had to be careful with a woman before. Obedient, yes. Generous, sure. But mindful of hurting them?
“No,” she grabs my hands, tugging them back. “They’re just so fucking sensitive. It hurts, but it also…”
I skate my lips across her jaw. “Feels good? Yeah, I get that.” I ease up on the pressure, the motions softer but no less stimulating. With a shivery exhale, she grinds against me, short-circuiting the connectors in my brain.
Carefully squeezing her tits together, I dip my head to suck one into my mouth, barely distracted when the door opens.
I hear a high-pitched, “Oops!”
“Leave the tray, Stella,” Verity gasps, hands grappling at my shirt. She pushes me back so her eyes can take in my body, and I feel a rush at the way she looks at me, heavy-lidded and hungry.
“Hey, Stella,” I call, licking my lips. “Why don’t you take the day off? You’ve earned it.”
Verity nods. “Weren’t you just saying before how long it’s been since you’ve seen your sister?”
Stella squeaks, “Yes?”
“You can take my car,” Verity offers, two spots of color rising on each cheek. “Keys on the dresser.”
My stomach caves at her touch. “Definitely take her car.”
She had Ballsack drive it here after her last stint in West End. It’s old and hideous, probably held together with duct tape and Bruin spit, and it’s been an unspoken goal between my brothers and me to never give her the chance to use it.
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