Page 111 of Wicked Prince of Frost

“I want you. All of you. I want to know what you feel like. What you taste like.” This time, when I unbutton his top, he doesn’t stop me. “I want to feel you all over.” I push the material off his shoulders, and together we make quick work of his clothes, leaving him as exposed as I am.

I shift back and admire him. He is larger than I realized when I felt him through his clothes. Joon’s dark eyes watch intently as I reach for him. I slide my hands over his shoulders and chest.

His fingers press into the soft flesh of my hips as I take my time learning him as he did me.

I lean forward and bite his shoulder as I take him in my hand. He is both hard as steel and soft to the touch. The feel and shape of him, the hard plains of his body, the way his skin tastes, the sounds each touch elicits from his throat.

He lets out a low hiss. I move my grip up and down, using the same rhythm he had on me. Bringing the side of my cheek to his, I drag my tongue along the shell of his ear to the pointed tip. A tremor rolls through him as my mouth and hands continue to explore.

“Violet,” Joon rasps my name, tangling his fingers in my hair.

In a move so quick, he pulls me to him before I can blink. I wrap my legs around his hips, trapping his hard length between us, so close to my aching core.

Heart hammering against my ribs, I brace my hands on his shoulders.

I rock my hips, dragging my center over his cock, pulling a ragged moan from his throat. Loving the sound, I do it again.

Joon’s hands shift, moving to grip my ass. He lifts me to position himself at my center, parting me with his tip. He holds me there, aching on the edge of the only thing that can quench this overwhelming need. “I want you to be absolutely sure this is what you want. Because I have no intention of stopping until I have memorized every inch of your body.”

“Please,” I say breathlessly.

Joon bites the side of my neck, then licks and sucks to soothe the skin. “Then take what you want.”

His grip loosens as he leans back, relinquishing control over to me. I sink down partway, unable to take all of him at once. I take a breath, then lift myself up, then lower again. His cock fills and stretches my body around his thick girth until I wonder if my body can accommodate all of him. But this need refuses to abate, and I keep going. I pause when there’s a slight discomfort as I stretch to accommodate all of him. It only increases the ache between my legs that only having him inside me can ease.

Joon finds the apex of my thighs, using his thumb to massage circles over the most sensitive part of my body. His touch sends a jolt through me. The shock of pleasure is so intense and unexpected that my thighs give out. I drop, sinking the rest of the way, gasping at the dull pain from the force of it. My thighs tremble with every sinfully delicious inch of him buried inside me.

The sensations he creates with his fingers override that momentary soreness, and I’m moving again.

I watch him, his eyes locked where we are joined, mesmerized by the sight of me, taking all of him again and again and again.

“Demons and saints, Violet.” He lets his head fall back.

He sits up and clutches me against him. His mouth seeks mine, consuming me as I rock against him. My fingers dance over his back, feeling the lines of his muscles.

“More,” I plead.

With a grunt, he twists us. I am on my back as he holds himself over me. I reach for him, but he captures my wrists and pins them above my head with one hand as the other slides over my breast, kneading my flesh. He pinches my nipple, pulling a moan from me, and I’m rewarded with a pleased rumble vibrating in his chest.

“You are breathtaking,” Joon purrs. “You have no idea howlong I’ve wanted to be inside you—to feel you come undone around my cock.” He moves slowly, savoring every languid stroke. Every caress is laced with love and tenderness.

“Joon,” I moan his name, lifting my hips to meet his. The angle allows him to hit deeper, with a pleasure so intense I cry out.

He groans and releases my wrists, bracing himself with both arms. “You make it difficult to control myself when you say my name like that.”

There is something about his wants and needs conflicting that makes me feel… powerful. It makes me want to break that last thread of his control.

“Then don’t.” I let my hands slide over his shoulders and down his chest and ribs to his back, sliding over the curve of his ass. I bring my lips to his ear. “Show me how much you’ve wanted this—fuck me.”

He pulls back achingly slow. With the next thrust, I pull him toward me. He manages to go deeper, hitting a spot so deep it steals my breath, cutting my moan short. My entire body trembles.

Our joining changes from an expression of our feelings to something carnal and filled with an insatiable need, afraid we will lose what we don’t take here and now.

He does it again and again, faster and harder. I lift my hips to meet his. With every forceful thrust, he claims me—body, heart, and soul.

We move together, hands roaming over each other, needing to memorize every inch of each other. I grip his shoulders, nails digging in. His mouth claims my breast, biting and sucking on my flesh as his hips pound relentlessly against my own.

The sounds of our passion fill the clearing. Tension builds, coiling into a tight spring, urging me closer to the precipice.