Page 64 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

"What is it you want, Princess?" he murmurs, his voice a low, sultry drawl that drips like honey, each word igniting a slow burn beneath my skin.

His words strike a chord, reverberating deep within me, but I don’t answer. I can’t. Instead, I feel his hand brush against my cheek, wiping away the tears that refuse to stop.

“I’m married,” I whisper, the truth spilling from my lips, barely audible, as if saying it aloud might shatter me. It’s a chain I can’t escape, binding me to a life that feels more like someone else’s than my own.

“I have a duty… to my kingdom,” I manage, the words trembling, caught somewhere between defiance and surrender.

My confession doesn’t break him; it ignites something inside him. His jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing.

“When will your heart outweigh the things you place before it?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost a plea. He leans in, his breath warm against my skin, his nose grazing mine in a gesture so tender it shatters me.

"Comfort? Certainty? Those walls you’ve built—they’re lies. False realities. Not this. Not us .”

His lips linger near my cheek, and I feel the truth of his words down to my very bones.

I shake my head, as if denying them will make them less real.

But it’s too late. I lean into him, just slightly, my resolve crumbling.

When his lips brush against my cheek, I close my eyes, surrendering to the moment.

It’s not just a kiss—it’s a quiet promise of what could be.

“You make me so angry... Do you know that?” His voice is thick with frustration, each word a low, rough whisper.

He tilts my head back slightly, his hand sliding around my neck in a possessive yet careful grip. My breath hitches, and I feel his every movement like a spark against my skin.

“All I can think about when I see you with anyone else…” His vo ice falters for just a moment, the rawness of his confession slicing through the air. “I lose my fucking mind.”

His lips graze my jaw, his touch sending shockwaves through my body.

He guides it forward, slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt until my palm meets his bare skin—warm, steady, alive.

The rhythm of his heartbeat pounds beneath my touch, a silent confession pulsing against my skin.

His warmth burns through me, and I feel him—aching.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” he murmurs, his voice a blend of need and desperation.

Instinct takes over. My fingers splay across his chest, and I let my nails drag lightly against his skin. He shudders beneath my touch, a low groan escaping his lips as he presses closer, the warmth of his body meeting mine with barely restrained need.

"I’ll do whatever you desire, Princess." He pauses, his voice dipping lower, heavy with intention. "Tell me what you want."

His words hang in the air—a challenge, a dare, and a promise woven together.

I lift my gaze to his, and whatever restraint I had left begins to splinter.

The unmistakable desire in his eyes reflects back at me.

I feel it mirrored in my own as my gaze drops to his lips—parted, breath shallow, so close I can almost taste the promise behind them.

And gods, I want him. Not later. Not eventually. Now.

“You.”

Before I can think, he’s on me, his hand threading into my hair and pulling me toward him.

His lips crash against mine, wild and unrelenting.

It’s not soft or tender—it’s consuming, filled with everything unsaid.

My breath hitches as his other hand finds the small of my back, pulling me flush against him.

His lips devour mine, his tongue parting them without hesitation, tasting me, claiming me.

His groan reverberates in me as he angles my head, deepening the kiss, his fingers gripping my hair with just enough force to make me gasp.

“You taste like you were made for me,” he growls against my lips, the words sending a wave of heat straight to my core.

I clutch at him, my hands roaming over his chest, his shoulders, desperate to feel more, to memorize the hard planes of his body beneath my fingertips. The fabric of his shirt feels like an insult, a barrier keeping me from what I crave.

His hips press into mine, and I feel him against me. A breathy moan escapes my lips, and his grip on my waist tightens. Without thinking, my hands trail down, finding his length through the fabric. My pulse races as my fingers curl around him, teasing him through his pants.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head falling back slightly, his jaw clenched as he presses harder against my hand. “You’re going to ruin me, Princess.”

The way his voice trembles, the roughness of it—it’s intoxicating. My palm moves over him, teasing him with every slow stroke. His hips jerk forward, chasing the friction, and I can’t help the thrill that runs through me at the sight of him losing control.

“Is this what you want?” he breathes, his voice a mix of a growl and a plea. “To feel how fucking hard you make me? To know what you do to me?”

“Yes,” I whisper, my voice trembling as I look up at him. “I want more.”

His eyes darken, the heat in them unmistakable as his gaze trails to my lips before capturing mine again.

“More?” he murmurs, his voice a low, sinful drawl that seems to wrap around me. “You don’t even realize what you’re begging for.”

“I do,” I say, my voice firmer now, filled with the hunger that’s building inside me.

He growls, his hand sliding from the back of my neck to my jaw, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip.

"You don’t know what you’re doing to me," he growls. "How badly I want to strip you bare, to claim you right here, to hear you scream my name until there’s nothing left of you but me."

The words send a jolt of electricity through me, my body trembling as I press harder against him, still stroking him through the fabric.

“Gods,” he breathes, his head falling forward to rest against mine .

He’s unraveling before me, and it’s a sight I never want to forget—the way his body trembles, the way his breath catches as my hand moves against him.

His grip on my waist tightens, and I can feel his control slipping with every passing second.

But then he grabs my wrist, stopping my movements.

His eyes meet mine, filled with a desperation that mirrors my own.

"No," he growls, his voice rough, edged with a commanding darkness. "Not like this."

Before I can think, my knees hit the ground, the forest floor cool beneath me. I look up at him, my hands trembling as I slide them up his thighs, and his breath hitches, his jaw tightening.

“ Lailah… ” he warns, his voice strained, but there’s no mistaking the plea hidden within it.

My fingers find the button of his pants, undoing it with ease before sliding the zipper down. His length springs free, and I pause for a moment, taken aback by the size of him. He’s huge, thick and pulsing, and the sight sends a rush of heat through me.

I wrap my fingers around him, stroking him slowly, watching as his head falls back, a guttural groan escaping his lips.

Without hesitation, I lean forward, taking him into my mouth.

The stretch against my lips is almost too much, but I push past the discomfort, my tongue swirling around him as I move deeper.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hand tangling in my hair as he guides me, his body trembling beneath my touch.

His curses fill the air, rough and unrestrained, and I can feel him losing himself completely, his hips bucking as he chases his release. His grip on my hair tightens, and I take him deeper, flicking my tongue against the sensitive tip.

"Gods, you feel too good," he growls, his voice breaking as his body tenses with barely restrained need.

Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t stop, my movements growing more deliberate as I bring him to the edge.

And when he finally comes, it’s with a low, shuddering moan that echoes through the forest. Warmth spills down my throat, and I savor the sound of him unraveling, the sight of him completely undone .

Before I can even catch my breath, his hands are on me again, pulling me to my feet with a roughness that feels almost desperate.

His lips crash into mine, and I can still taste him on my tongue, salty and intoxicating.

His fingers grip my waist, dragging me against him, his body still hard, still pulsing with need.

A moan escapes me as his hand slides from my waist to my back, finding the bare skin beneath my shirt.

His touch is possessive, as he pulls me impossibly closer.

The moment I think I can steady myself, he lifts me effortlessly, slamming my back against the rough bark of the tree. A gasp escapes my lips, sharp and breathless, as his body pins me there. His dark gaze locks with mine, burning with an intensity that makes my pulse race.

"Do you want this?"

His voice is low and rough, a growl that rumbles through me, dark and primal, as his breath fans hot against my neck.

I try to speak, but the words catch in my throat, trapped by the intensity of his gaze and the searing heat of his touch.

All I can do is nod, my body trembling as his hands grip my thighs, pulling me flush against him.

"No," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear, the wicked edge of his fangs grazing my skin. "I want to hear you say it."

“Yes,” I breathe, my voice trembling but resolute, the word spilling out like a plea. “I want this.”

He growls softly, a sound thick with satisfaction, and his lips crash into mine again, hungry and unrelenting.

The kiss is fire and desperation, consuming every ounce of control I thought I had.

His hips press into me, and I feel him—still hard, still pulsing—against me.

I let out a low moan as he grinds against me, teasing me with the promise of what’s to come.

I whimper in response, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pull him closer, desperate for more.