I turned my head to where his hand pressed into the mattress beside my neck, catching his thumb between my teeth and sucking it into my mouth as I looked back to him. His eyes all but rolled back in his head as he groaned, pressing his thumb deeper into my mouth. He leaned further toward me, prying my knees apart with his own and nestling between them, already straining against his pants.
We were in the King’s bed. Holy shit.The idea that we could be caught at any moment was not far from my mind, even as one of his hands moved lower, lower, even as the other began to find its way beneath my tunic. I couldn’t wait any longer.
I pushed him off of me, a flash of confusion on his face quickly turning to hunger as I spun and nudged him toward the bed. He collapsed, propping himself up on his elbows, watching me as I frantically pulled my tunic over my head and unfastened the laces on my pants. “Off,” I breathed, gesturing to his own pants. His mouth hung agape at my sudden audacity, one side quirked up in disbelief, eyes positively molten. I stopped, raising a brow at him. “Your Queen commands it.”
He leapt up without hesitation, his face painted with lust, and made swift work of his pants. He stared at my naked form, dropping to his knees in front of me and cupping my waist in his hands, leaning in to lay kisses on my stomach, on my hips, getting dangerously close to the heat I radiated.
But my impatience caught up to me again as I felt him looking at my face. “I could worship you forever,” he breathed into my skin.
“Worship me later,” I whispered, my bluntness taking even me by surprise. “Your Queen would like to be fucked now.”
He was an animal and I was his prey. He lifted me with ease and threw me to the bed, his every movement purposeful as he flipped me on my stomach and pulled my hips in the air.Oh, Saints.Leaning over me, pressing his chest to my back, his palm found my throat. “As you wish, my Queen,” he whispered. And then we were one, my name on his lips as he braced his hands on my shoulders. “Scream for me,” he grunted. “I want to hear you scream my name, Petra.” I couldn’t have stopped it if I wanted to, my voice echoing off the gilded surfaces of the bedroom that belonged to the King of Eserene.
He pulled me to him so I was kneeling, my back pressed against his chest, one arm hooked around my waist as he buried his face in my neck. He reached in front of me, his fingers landing between my legs and exploring the flesh, my want obvious by the slickness that awaited him. Every nerve in my body was on fire. Sweet heat built inside of me at his touch, the sensation dizzying. “Oh, Saints,” he groaned, the vibrations of his mouth against my throat my undoing, and I threw my head back against him while my soul came undone, his name like a prayer on my lips while his fingers continued to dance. I was drunk on him, every one of my bones liquid beneath his touch. I reared against the wall of muscle behind me, needing him as close to me as possible, wanting no part of the world between us.
He slowed, unsheathing himself, leaving me uncomfortably empty, but quickly flipped me on my back. “I want to look at you,” he said, his voice suddenly laced with longing, his eyes pained. Cal leaned over, pulling me to him as he buried himself again. I gasped at the sudden fullness, his eyes glowing with vivid want. “For as long as I live,” he whispered, leaning in so his lips hovered above mine, “I will remember this night.” The urgency of his lips, of his movements inside of me told me that I’d remember it, too.
He was setting me on fire, and for him, I’d gladly burn. Release rippled through me again, my shaking legs locked around him as he pulled back and spilled across me. “Petra,” he hissed in that smoldering voice, his head thrown back as he gripped himself in one hand, my waist in the other. “Fuck,Petra.”
He was so beautiful, the firelight making his eyes glint like gemstones, his voice reverberating through the room. His arms trembled as he held himself over me, his lips barely an inch from mine. “Every day,” he whispered, the energy radiating from him so intense that every part of me felt like crackling lightning, “I thank the Saints every day that they sent you to me.”
???
I handed the vendor three silver pieces, my basket heavy with a sack of flour and the best butter in Inkwell. Turning back to our house, I smiled beneath the hood of my cloak at the twinge of soreness I felt coursing through my muscles from last night.
My mother had an idea to make meat pies for dinner and have Lord Castemont and Calomyr join us. The betrayal I’d felt at her suggestion to serve Da’s favorite meal to another man dissipated as soon as I saw the excitement on her face. Actualexcitement.She’d been buzzing around the kitchen all afternoon, making plans and preparations. When she asked me if I’d go out to fetch the remaining ingredients she needed, I was happy to do so.
I rounded the corner of our street, mouth watering at the thought of the savory meal ahead. I wondered if Cal had already arrived. I climbed the steps, nodding at the ever-dutiful Tyrak who stood guard as I pushed the front door open.
My mother sat deflated on the couch, eyes on the smoldering hearth. I knew that look. That was the look of–
“Petra,” Castemont said, his voice grave. The air was thick as I inhaled. I began to shake my head, knowing the tone of his voice all too well.
“Where is Calomyr?” I felt the skin of my neck tighten, my collarbone jut out as my chest collapsed in. Castemont said nothing as he looked to my mother. “Where is Calomyr?” I demanded again.
“Petra, he…” I saw his mouth form around the words but no sound came out. My ears rung. “There was an accident. In the training yard. Calomyr… Calomyr is dead.”