Page 28 of The King’s Man (The Kingdom of the Krow #3)

Jann leaned over me, kissing his way up my body as he continued to touch and stroke, his fingers beckoning, teasing, urging me on until it seemed like I trembled under my skin.

My grip on his hair tightened, not because I wanted him to stop, but because I needed something to remind me that I wasn’t floating on air.

Then Jann kissed up my neck, nudging me back on the bed until I lay flat and he leaned over me. His free hand cupped over my head, holding me down as he kissed along my jaw, then finally took my mouth.

Soft, full lips, tender but insistent tongue, his body pressed between my knees because my legs were still over the edge of the bed. I sighed into his kiss as he tilted his head to take it deeper—and continued with those slowly increasing strokes within.

Then he added a thumb against my clit and a shiver jolted through me. I almost came. Throwing my head back out of that kiss, I cried out and slapped a hand to his back, hips bucking, pulling him closer, begging with my body, growling in frustration when he eased back and slowed his pace.

“Jann— fuck!”

The cocky bastard fucking chuckled.

A jolt of rage broke through the pleasure and I braced a hand on the quilt, intending to push up and make him look me in the eye. If this was all a tease—

“Stay with me, Beautiful,” he graveled as I tried to lift my head, but couldn’t because he held my hair. “I need you ready.”

I spluttered. “I don’t know how much you know about a woman’s body, Jann, but if it’s not apparent to you that I’m ready—”

“Dee… I mean really ready,” he said, his voice deep and dark.

I blinked and met his eyes, my body still writhing into his touch, which had slowed, but not stopped.

Jann stared down at me. Now, with some semblance of my mental faculties returned, I saw the tension in him—the cords standing proud on his neck, the pinch in his eyes, the muscles bulging in his shoulders.

The man was fighting a battle and I’d been so consumed with the pleasure he wrung from me, I’d missed it.

Our eyes locked and his jaw flexed.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said grimly, his voice ragged.

I blew out a breath, thrill and nerves coiling in my stomach in equal measure. “I’ve done this before, Jann, I’m not—”

“That’s good. That will help. But it’s not what I meant,” he said gruffly.

His eyes shadowed, but he didn’t look away. He stroked me again and my jaw went slack. I swallowed and tried to keep my head.

“The only way to find out if this is going to be a problem is to try,” I said, as rationally as I could.

He nodded, then entered me with a third finger. My eyes slid closed and I smiled—then gasped as he pulled his fingers apart to stretch me as he drew them out.

The sensation was strange—half-startling pleasure, half-discomfort. Then he pressed into me again, a low rumble of approval in his chest when my jaw dropped and I let my head fall back on the bed.

I’d spent my life around soldiers. I’d heard men talk about finger fucking since I was a teen. Back then I thought it was simply a coarse description for aggressive foreplay. But now…

There was no denying that the sheer stature of the Nephilim led to a certain impact. I was both thrilled, and a little apprehensive. But the pleasure and anticipation building low in my belly soon overwhelmed rational thought.

As Jann moved his touch in and out of me, that building pressure within made me tremble and promised orgasm on the horizon. I clenched on his fingers and he groaned and picked up the pace.

Gasping his name, I rolled my hips with him and reached for his arm, wanting to pull him in as I would if he’d actually entered me. But even though he continued to make those deep, ragged noises in his chest, every time I began to edge towards a climax, he’d slow.

I hissed a curse the third time he took me to the edge then eased back. “Jann, please.” I lifted my head—I was sweating!

“What?” he said, his chin low and eyes dark and glittering.

“You know what!”

“No, Diadre… I want you to tell me. In specific terms. In excruciating detail. Tell me what you want.”

I broke. I sat up fast and grabbed his face, pulling myself up to kiss him when his mouth opened to protest, sucking on his tongue and biting his lip, then tipping my forehead against his when he repaid me by plunging those fingers deep again.

“Dear God,” I gasped, holding his face and breathing against his skin.

“No, just Nephilim.”

“You’re not funny,” I rasped.

“Actually, I’m hilarious. You just lack the requisite admiration—”

“Jann, I am very ready to admire you,” I panted. “In fact, if you don’t get undressed right now, I’m…”

“What…” he growled, then kissed me deeply so I thought he’d give me what I wanted. But a few moments later, with another groan, he pulled back to meet my eyes and beckoned within me again. “What, Diadre? Spell it out.”

“I just did!”

“Okay,” he growled—then to my horror, he pulled away from me, drew his fingers out of me, and pushed to his feet.

I blinked and gaped as he straightened to his full height, staring down at me with eyes dark, chest heaving, as he reached back to the neckline of his shirt and tugged it off forward, over his head—his head popping up with hair messy and eyes flashing as he threw it aside.

Then he reached down, unbuckled his belt and shoved his leathers down like they offended him.

I was half-sitting, braced on my hands, and treated to the sight of that golden bull of a man in his full glory.

His eyes blazed, his full lips pulling up on one side in a half-grin that made my belly clench again.

His shoulders rippled with muscle, his chest expanding and retreating quickly, every muscle, vein, and tendon in his body and arms popping like it had been carved from marble.

He growled as I raked my gaze down his body to stop at that thick pillar rising from between his thighs.

“Only if you want me, Diadre,” he growled. “Only if you choose me. Every time. I own my prick, and I own my control. You have my word, I’ll never use it against you. Ever.” He took himself in hand and stroked himself slowly—something I’d never found particularly erotic until this moment.

He was the most carnal man I’d ever seen. His body made for strength and control and… admiration.

Mouth suddenly dry, I swallowed and sat up.

He made a strange noise like I’d startled him when I reached for him.

There was no doubt, he was impressive. Daunting, even.

The possibilities were terrifying if I let myself think about it.

But as I put both hands on him, drawing them up slowly, Jann responded exactly as any man would—a low, deep rumble of approval rolled in his chest as he propped a hand on my shoulder and his head dropped forward.

His body quivered, hips pumping into my touch.

I knew that sound. I knew that look. He wanted me. And I wanted him.

Suddenly, my fear was gone.

“I want you,” I whispered, then curled forward to take the head of him in my mouth.

Jann hissed and his fingers tightened suddenly in my hair, but it was to pull me off of him, not push harder.

He tugged my head back until my neck craned and I looked straight up at him.

Then he cupped my jaw with one hand and held me there, pinned in his gaze. “Say it. Out loud. In detail.”

“I did—I said, I want you,” I breathed.

“Want what?”

“Want you. This.” I stroked him and pulled him closer, letting him slide against my breasts so that his eyes widened and he growled.

“That’s where you want me?” he asked hoarsely, inching closer and cupping both breasts to plump them as he pushed himself between them.

“No.” I shook my head. “Not there.”

“Then say it, Diadre. Make it absolutely clear.”

His eyes were intense, blazing, pinched with the fight for restraint. His body quivered with every touch and each pump between my breasts.

Swallowing hard, because who knew how the hell this would go—the only thing I was certain of was that I wanted to try—I pulled away from him and scooted myself back on the bed.

Jann watched, eyes hungry, as I crawled backwards, never breaking contact, until I could lay down with my head on the pillow.

Then, with only a small pinch of self-conscious shame, I bent my knees, opened my legs and put my hand between them.

“Here,” I whispered. “I want you here, Jann.”

His shoulders heaved faster. “Are you certain?” he croaked. “Are you absolutely—”

“For fuck’s sake, Jann. You can stop asking now. Unless you don’t want to—?”

With a puttering snarl, he launched himself onto the bed.