Page 90 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

True to his promise, she couldn’t control any sound or movement she made. Crazed noises erupted from her—sounds she didn’t even recognize, movements purely pleasure-driven as her body took on a whole new experience.

She was left in a puddle of pleasure on the floor when he finally released her. She didn’t know how it was possible, but the throbbing between her legs remained.

She was still not satisfied. She still hadn’t had enough.

She looked up into his conquering eyes as he brought his lips back to hers.

“Gods, you’re perfection,” he murmured against her lips. “If I knew how good you tasted, I would’ve done that a lot sooner.”

She kissed him back, her body still weak.

He began to move back down her body, but she sat up.

“No. It’s my turn.” Taking control, she pulled him down onto his back on the blanket beside her. He let her pin him to the floor, switching positions as she straddled him.

She ran her hands down his scarred chest, her lips following them down, past his belly button and lower.

Her hand got there first, wrapping gently around him, stroking his silky, swollen skin with gentleness.

Roman took a sharp breath as his jaw clenched, every muscle engaging beneath hers.

Her lips went to where her hand was, kissing the tip as she stroked him, getting a sample of the sweet, sticky liquid already leaking there. She moved her tongue downward, licking him from top to bottom, ever so slowly teasing him.

“Good gods,” he uttered hoarsely, drenched in desire.

Without warning, she took all of him into her mouth.

He bucked, hissing. “Fuck,” he swore under his breath, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull.

She smirked in pride around him, taking him in smooth, slow strokes, allowing herself time to grow accustomed to every inch, flicking the edge of him with her tongue.

He moaned as she took him deeper, attempting to reach for her, but she swatted his hand away, wanting him to know how it felt.

“Look at me,” he commanded with such a low, pleasured voice, she obliged.

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, her mouth still around him.

Somehow, the small gesture was his breaking point.

He let out what she could only describe as a feral growl before he pushed her back gently but firmly, forcing her off him. “Come here,” he breathed.

Her two favorite words from him, she decided.

He swept her up off the floor, wrapping her arms and legs around his waist and carrying her over to the bed as he kissed her hungrily.

He practically threw her onto the sheets, his golden eyes lost in desire as he towered over her. “I’m taking you,” he warned. “I’m taking all of you—your body and soul. And I’m never giving it back,” he swore to her as he nudged her legs apart.

She let out a small whimper, feeling him at her entrance.

“You are mine.” His lips went to her neck again, biting it gently. “Say it,” he demanded.

“I’m yours,” she stated breathlessly.

His eyes softened. “Say it again.”

A plea.

“I’m yours,” she said, swallowing hard, then in a softer, submissive whisper, “I’m yours,” she repeated, her hand going up to cup the side of his face, willingly giving herself over to him.

His fingers softly but firmly wrapped around her jaw, turning her face away from his as he leaned closer, bringing his lips next to her ear. “And I am yours,” he whispered to her soul.

He entered her with one smooth motion.

She sucked in a sharp breath while Roman let out an uncontrolled sound she’d never heard in her twenty-four years.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” he said, his voice laced with a powerful ache.

An immediate sense of pride filled her to know it felt better than he imagined.

His motions started slow and gentle, taking his time to familiarize himself with every inch of her. His hips rocked in slow, beautiful thrusts, letting her become accustomed to him.

She arched her back again. This time, his arm slid under her, securing her close, while the other held him up.

“I’m yours,” he murmured against her lips, between fervent kisses. “Gods, I’m all but yours.”

He drove himself deeper, his hips moving faster with each thrust. She raked at his back with her fingertips, clinging to him for support. Her chest grazed his as she swayed with him. Their kisses grew ravenous as they devoured each other, their tongues dancing together.

Her climax climbed again, coming back in full force. She pulled back, opening her eyes, wanting to see him. She found her favorite golden eyes waiting for her, taking her captive.

“Don’t stop,” she begged against his lips. “Please… whatever you do… don’t stop.”

Her lips went to the base of his throat, nipping at it while simultaneously swirling her tongue over his skin—a magical spot, she realized, as he let out a deep-throated groan while his eyes rolled back.

“Just look at you,” he drawled with uncontrollable moans, his eyes raking over her. “I… I can’t…”

Words failed as they were both shoved off the cliff they were hanging on.

Roman roared as he went with her this time, his strong arm crushing her into his chest as she dug her fingernails into his shoulders, crying out. His arms shook with pleasure as he poured himself into her, his thrusts wild and uncontrollable.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. All she could see was him. All she could feel was him. He was her, and she was him.

One being.

One heart.

It was the precise moment she knew she could never live without him again.

Once he had poured every ounce of himself into her, he gently released her back onto the bed, his hands brushing the hair out of her face, stroking it.

“I love you,” he whispered breathlessly, his chest heaving as he rested his forehead against hers.

“Gods, you’ll never know how much I love you, Roe. ”

“I love you, too,” she murmured between ragged breaths.

She meant it with every fiber of her being.

They laid beside each other for a long while, not worried about such a small thing as time. Roman cradled her against his chest as he stroked her hair, attempting to catch their breath.

“Can I ask you something else?” he said after a moment, his question mixed with hesitation.

She looked up at him, signaling he could.

“At the Infinity Pool, you mentioned feeling broken, that it wasn’t only Tristan who hurt you… What did you mean by that?”

She stopped tracing her fingers over his chest, growing still.

He noticed the hesitation. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to. It’s only… I haven’t told anyone, ever. I… I’m afraid you might look at me differently.”

“Nothing you could say or do would persuade me of that.”

“You might not be so sure after what I tell you.” She sat up, wrapping the butter-soft sheets around her body.

He sat up with her as she looked away, trying to hide her pained expression. He took hold of her face, making her look at him. His gaze held her as firm as the mountains surrounding them.

“Don’t you dare hide from me. There is nothing you could say that would make me love you any less.”

She looked down to her hands, playing with her fingers.

Roman slipped his hand into hers, holding it in reassurance.

“It was my father,” she admitted, forcing herself to speak of him.

“He was… unkind to me.” She averted her eyes to the dying fire, entering the darkness she’d tried so hard to expel.

“Cruel would be a more accurate word,” she corrected herself.

“I know my mother had to bear burdens from him I never knew, but the way he treated me, in particular, was… different. Ever since I could remember, he looked at me with such disdain. Like… like he never really wanted me. He put on a mask in public so no one would suspect a thing, but behind closed doors, he could barely stand to look at me. And when he did, it was to punish me for the smallest things. He even hit me, but not often. Bruises left too much evidence. I tried to stay out of his way. It was the main reason I couldn’t wait to go to the castle every summer—just to escape him…

That was, until he heard me singing in the gardens one day.

He realized I had a rare talent. He started taking me to festivals, events, markets, all of them.

People paid handsomely to hear me sing. As I grew older, he noticed how men looked at me… ” Her words faltered.

Roman’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening around her hand, but he said nothing, patiently waiting for her to continue.

“When I turned sixteen, he started taking me to more mature places—taverns, pubs, ale houses, take your pick,” she continued.

“He used me to distract them while he pickpocketed and stole, perhaps cheated in a game or two. You see, he lost a great deal of money to bad investments one year. Trade and crops were sparse due to the harsh winter. To help our financial situation, he got involved in the black market, making deals with bad men. He foolishly thought he could win back all the money he’d lost, but he only got himself more and more in debt.

He got in trouble with powerful men he owed a great deal of money to.

Which is why we had to leave that summer to salvage the situation. ”

She paused, swallowing as she looked down at her hands.