That Prince Is A Girl The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate novel Chapter 366

Chapter 366
He was in front of her before the last syllable left her lips. Towering, crowding her, surrounding her. She breathed him in, feeling a deep sense of longing… not just in her heart, but in her feminine core. Rising on her toes, she kissed him first. She poured her craving and desperation into it. The kiss was fast and a little clumsy, but so full of need.

And within heartbeats, he was kissing her back. He devoured her, and she drowned in it.

Emeriel would never grow tired of his kisses—never lose her addiction to the feel of his mouth, the taste of him, the way his lips moved against hers as though she was all he had ever hungered for.

Cool silk sheets met her back, he lowered next to her, lying by her side, his kisses trailing over her skin. His mouth moved along her throat, down the delicate line of her neck, and lower still… until his lips found her breast and he took her nipple into his mouth.

Emeriel cried, arching into him. Her fingers threaded into his hair, holding him to her. Oh, to feel this again… to have him again.

The sensation was sharper than she remembered, sharp as a hot jolt. She had always been sensitive there, but since her pregnancy, her breasts—her nipples—had become almost unbearably so. Tugs of his mouth made her breath hitch, stutter, stop.

She was so aroused she could feel her own slick against her thighs. Emeriel pressed them tightly together again, trying to alleviate the growing ache. Every pull soon turned into maddening torture, for where she needed him most remained blissfully empty.

“I need you.” She opened her eyes, pleading. “Inside me. Please.”

He stopped, pulling back. “Are you sure?” Eyes searched hers, pupils blown wide.

“Yes.” She nodded fervently. “Yes, please…”

So he moved. Catching her legs, he pulled until she slid to the edge, rose to stand at the foot, his eyes drinking her in. He leaned into her, bracing his hands on either side of her, his torso framed by her bent knees. He fit himself between her thighs as though he belonged there—and he did. He always had.

But as he lined his hardness to her core, the anxiety came again.

She tried to suppress it as quickly as it came, but it must have shown in her eyes. Daemonikai stilled. Poised but not entering. He merely watched her with that all-seeing gaze of his that had ensnared her years ago and never let go. Eyes that stripped her bare.

“Look at me, love.”

The voice startled her. Emeriel arched her head back to Alviara, who leaned over her.

“You are doing so beautifully, taking his touch so well,” Alviara’s tone was soothing, coaxing. “Don’t stop now.”

Daemonikai nudged against her, and Emeriel whimpered, going tensed.

“This won’t do,” Alviara addressed the grand king. “Your Grace, forgive me for this, but it must be done.”

Before Emeriel could question it, Alviara moved. She slid into bed beside Emeriel, snaked a hand around her neck, guiding her forward, and kissed her. Hard.

Every muscle in Emeriel’s body locked in place, stunned.

Daemonikai growled in a warning so deep it rumbled through her bones, but Alviara didn’t so much as flinch. The courtesan’s tongue parted Emeriel’s lips, coaxing her mouth open, kissing her with a passion that was consuming.

“Focus on this,” Alviara ordered into her mouth. “Endure it. Open yourself to it.”

Then Alviara was kissing her again. So much. A consuming kiss that completely took Emeriel over. And for a moment, that was the center of her world. Everything else retreated into the background—fears retreated, anxieties scattered.

Stark pleasure assaulted her senses, making her give a muffled cry.

The kiss broke as Alviara pulled back, her gaze pinning Emeriel in place.

“Tell me what he’s doing,” the courtesan said softly.

“He is… his tongue is—” Emeriel gasped, her head rolling back, eyes fluttering as another moan escaped. “There.”

“That’s a good girl,” Alviara’s voice was velvet soft. “How does it feel?”

Emeriel’s face burned. She bit her lips.