Page 12 of Coronation (Royally Forbidden #1)
His pace is relentless and bruising, an unending onslaught of sensation.
This shouldn’t feel so good—it just shouldn’t—but I’m almost out of my mind with how turned on I am.
“I’m sorry, Ben,” I whimper, lifting my ass to allow him deeper access.
I’m totally out of control, caught in the rising tide of desire that’s been growing higher and higher in whatever amount of time has passed since we first met.
“Tell me how to get you off.” There’s a desperate edge to his words, and his thrusts are growing shorter and more urgent. “I’m going to come, I need you to?—”
It’s too late, though. He’s too far gone, and as he wedges deep inside me, his body shaking from the onslaught of pleasure, I follow him over the edge.
Hard. Ben brushes kisses over my shoulder while he waits for me to come down, his softening cock still lodged inside me as my cries of pleasure fall away, and the only sound is our ragged breathing.
I wince when he pulls out, my body unused to the rough treatment.
Rolling over, I watch as Ben straightens up, carefully removing the condom and tossing it into the bin in the corner, before turning his gaze back to me.
Even after everything we just did, I feel a heat pool in my lower belly at the sight of this man naked.
For a moment, neither of us speaks, looking at each other.
“Are you alright?” he asks at last, lowering his eyes to my body, searching for signs of distress. “That was… more than expected.”
Yeah, I’d say so. “I’m perfect,” I assure him gently. “That was probably the best sex of my life.”
When Benedict’s eyes flick back up to meet mine, there is suspicion there, his expression closer to what it looked like when he told off that rude man downstairs than it’s ever been when he looked at me. “How convenient.”
My heart drops like a stone, and, strangely unsteady, I sit up, looking around for something to cover myself with. My dress is by the door, and I don’t acknowledge Benedict at all as I scoot to the edge of the bed, brushing past him to retrieve it.
“Are you leaving, then?” he asks, cool and dismissive, like he couldn’t care less one way or another.
Ouch . God . This was supposed to be a casual sex thing, and as we have just had casual sex, I shouldn’t be hurt by his tone or his attitude. I shouldn’t, but I am. Was he only nice to me so I would sleep with him? My hands are stiff as I fumble with the dress, struggling to untangle it.
Do I just attract assholes? Or am I just the dumbest person on the planet, with absolutely zero awareness of when she’s being manipulated?
“Zelda?” There’s an edge of impatience in his voice now, as I finally manage to get the dress right side out. I yank it over my head, and there is a lump lodged painfully in my throat as I turn to face the naked man standing beside the bed.
“I didn’t say that to kiss your ass,” I tell him bitterly, possessed by the need to defend myself, to make him know he was wrong.
“You didn’t have to… I’m twenty-five, not however old you are.
I work a lot, and you’re only the third person I’ve slept with.
Ever. So competition is pretty thin on the ground, Your Highness .
I am also, apparently,” my voice cracks, “just a really shitty judge of character.”
All through this furious monologue, King Benedict has stayed silent and grave, watching me through those intensely dark eyes.
There are a few other things I’d like to say to him, but my propensity for bursting into tears at the most inconvenient times needs to be taken into account, and sticking around for this man to see it is a hard pass.
However, when I spin around—fully intending to storm out dramatically—I find there is a hand pressed flat to the door, stopping me.
My heart beats faster as I stare at it, the seconds ticking past with neither of us speaking a word.
“I apologize.”
For once in these kinds of situations, my eyes are strangely dry. I swallow. “How convenient.”
Benedict’s breath is warm on my shoulder, but I still don’t look at him, staring at his large hand spread on the door.
“It was the best sex of my life as well, and I’m considerably older than twenty-five.
As I’m sure you can understand, people often have…
less than honest motivations in their interactions wi th me.
The way I just responded was a reflection of that, not you, Zelda, and I’m sorry. ”
Yeah, I can definitely understand that. In fact, I have firsthand experience in being manipulated and used for others’ purposes, and I’m only an actress with an important family, not the leader of an entire nation.
Some of my ire has drained away, and as I watch Benedict’s hand fall from the door, leaving me free to leave, I don’t move.
Do I want to go?
Perhaps sensing my indecision, the man behind me draws closer until I can feel the warmth of his skin radiating into mine. “Forgive me,” Benedict murmurs, and my pulse stutters as he lowers his lips to brush the bare skin beside my dress strap, sending goosebumps down my arms.
I blow out an unsteady breath, trying to think clearly when my vagina—still pleasantly aching from what this man did to me—is also begging for me to forgive him.
There is also a pretty strong chance that I am overthinking this.
It’s just sex, right? I’m not marrying the guy; he doesn’t have to be perfect.
Still on guard, I turn, tilting my head back to meet Benedict’s eyes. “Are you only saying that so I’ll have sex with you again?”
His lips twist unhappily. “No. I’m not. Would you like to revisit me doing nothing but eating your tight cunt for the rest of the night? Consider it a standing offer, darling. Just say the word.”
Oh, jeez. It’s pretty clear he doesn’t know it, but a gruff, handsome, accented man calling me darling is a pretty deadly weapon against my willpower. I’m only human.
It’s hard to convince myself that there are no other motivations at play here, no other factors—like the way my heart flutters when he looks at me, or the strange ease I feel being around him—that might prompt me to let this go and stay .
There is a distinctly raw, vulnerable feeling expanding inside me as I nod. “Okay.”
Surprise flickers in his expression, as if he wasn’t really expecting that to work. “You’ll stay?”
“I’ll stay,” I confirm, and my next words are lost as Benedict’s lips descend on mine. It’s so fierce, so desperate, that I find myself getting lost in him all over again. There was something else I wanted to say, something important, but it’s lost as my dress hits the floor all over again.
By the time I’ve fallen back onto the dark sheets, Ben’s body covering mine, I don’t remember it existed at all.