Page 91 of Carnal Urges

I tip my head back and am immediately rewarded with a deep, hot kiss. Declan’s fingers delve between my legs, exploring every inch, sliding around where he’s buried inside me. When they brush my exquisitely sensitive clit, I whimper into his mouth.

“Ready?” he whispers.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

His exhalation is ragged. “Goddamn, woman. Goddamn.”

Then he slaps my throbbing pussy, and I come.

Sobbing and jerking in his arms, I come so hard, I lose myself. The entire time, he whispers praises into my ear, words in English and Gaelic that melt like butter over my heated skin.

Then he’s jerking, too, hips thrusting erratically, broken moans falling from his lips. I feel him throbbing inside me, feel a spreading warmth as his hand closes around my throat.

He spills himself inside me with a roar.

As we fall limp and spent to the carpet and he gathers me into his arms, I wonder how this dark fairy tale will end.

Because it will end. It has to. The only question is who will be left standing when the castle walls come crashing down—the princess? The dark knight?

Or maybe no one at all.

Back in the kitchen, neither of us speaks. Declan finishes making the salad, puts everything into a big bowl, grabs a fork, then leads me over to the dining table.

He sits in a chair and pulls me down gently to the floor.

Appalled, I stare up at him. “I’m not kneeling at your feet.”

Eyes shining, he says, “Strange, but it looks like you are.”

He waits for me to decide what I’m going to do about it. I simmer for a few moments, debating, observing from a safe distance as my ego throws a hissy fit.

He says gently, “I just want to feed you.”

“Like an owner feeds his dog scraps under the table?”

“No, lass. Like a man feeds his lover. If you don’t like it, get up.”

He proceeds to spear a bunch of salad onto the fork. Then he holds the fork to my lips, cradling my jaw in his other hand as he gazes down at me with feverish eyes.

Oh, that look. It makes me shiver. I’ve never been looked at like that by a man. The need in his eyes is so hot, it could burn us both to the ground.

I whisper, “This is a dangerous game we’re playing.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Those are his skeletons I hear behind his words. His ghosts rattling their chains. What the hell am I getting myself into?

“Promise me you’ll—”

“Aye. I promise.”

“You don’t know what I was going to ask.”

“It doesn’t matter. Ask me for anything. To be careful with you, to be honest with you, to bring you someone’s head on a plate. I’ll say aye. You’re not the only one in chains here. Now open those pretty lips and let me feed you. You’ll need your energy. I’ll want to fuck you again soon.”

He nudges my lips with the fork.

Staring up at him in a weird combination of terror, fascination, and awe, I open my mouth and let him slide the food in.