The Mind-Reading Mate Why Is the Lycan King So Obsessed With Me novel Chapter 16

Chapter 16: From Grumpy King to Horny Husband

Primrose waited for his answer, but Edmund suddenly froze, as if something had just struck his brain. Even his inner thoughts went completely silent.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Then, out of nowhere, a loud scream exploded inside his mind, making Primrose flinch slightly.

[She's letting me touch her? She wants this?]

[Holy hell, I don't have to hold back anymore.]

[Wife, I swear I'll be gentle!]

Why did she have a feeling she shouldn't trust that last part?

"Your Ma—"

Before she could finish, Edmund was on her again. His lips crashed against hers, swallowing whatever words she was about to say.

This time, there was no hesitation, no awkward pause between the kisses. Edmund was devouring her like she was a sacrificing lamb on his plate.

He kissed her fiercely, sucking on her upper lip, then her lower, as if he couldn't decide which he liked more.

The intensity made her gasp, her hands instinctively clutching at his clothes.

It was too much. Too overwhelming. Too good.

And yet, she didn't want him to stop.

Primrose whimpered softly beneath him, tapping his chest whenever she needed air.

Each time, Edmund would pull away, just enough to let her breathe, but that didn't mean he wanted to stop kissing her.

As she gasped for breath, her chest rising and falling in uneven waves, he didn't waste a second. His lips found new places to land—her forehead, her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, the corner of her mouth, kissing every inch of her face like he was utterly addicted.

[I can't stop kissing my wife.]

[Is she getting tired of me? But she hasn't told me to stop.]

[Her skin is so soft. Her cheeks ... they're so plump, like milk pudding.]

[And her lips ... her lips are red, swollen, and taste like the ripest, sweetest cherries.]

Primrose's face burned hotter with each thought.

Primrose was used to being complimented. People had praised her beauty since she was born, showered her with sweet words and admiration. But no one had ever described her like this before, with such intense admiration and detail.

Edmund wasn't just calling her beautiful. He was worshiping her.

Like she was a masterpiece crafted by the gods themselves, and he was an aesthete hopelessly enchanted by every stroke, every color, every flawless imperfection in her.

And he didn't just say it once.

Every time his lips touched her skin, a new praise appeared from his mind, like he physically couldn't stop himself from adoring her.

Again and again. Over and over.

He was drowning her in his praise until she could hardly breathe, not from his kisses this time, but from the overwhelming heat in her chest.

"Y-Your Majesty ..." Primrose finally managed to call his name, desperate to put an end to this never-ending affections before she completely melted.

Edmund finally stopped kissing her, but his hands stayed on her skin, cupping her chin as he tilted her face up to meet his gaze. In such a tender voice, he pleaded, "Address me by my name."

Her eyelids drooped slightly as she stole a brief glance at him, her breath catching in her throat.

Every detail of his face was mesmerizing—his thick, slightly furrowed brows, the sharp cut of his jaw, and the way the firelight accentuated his cheekbones made him look like something out of a dream.

He looked as if he had been sculpted by divine hands, crafted with the utmost care.

"I ... I shouldn't," she whispered. "It wouldn't be proper—"

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