“I would kill him again for laying her death at your feet.” Strong fingers tilted her head back. Dark gaze searched her eyes. Gruffly he said, “You are not to blame, Yvenne.”
She laughed because otherwise she would cry. “Do you have a warrior’s lesson to give that might teach me how to believe that?”
A wry smile curved his mouth. “If I did, first I would have to learn it myself.”
“Do not look to me for that lesson,” she told him. “All good kings carry more blame than they should.”
“It is fortunate I have broad enough shoulders for it.” Bending his head, he pressed a kiss to the point of her shoulder. “And yours look frail, yet mountains they can bear.”
Now she would truly weep. With shuddering breath, she pillowed her cheek on his biceps. As if sensing her need to hide again, Maddek said nothing for a long time. She was drifting off to sleep when his stirring awoke her.
In a low rasp he said, “Take your rest, Yvenne. I will return when my cock rises again.”
Because Yvenne had told him that she would not sleep beside him. Now she reached out, caught his hand before he left the bed.
“Stay,” she said.
And he did.
CHAPTER 31
MADDEK
Hard Maddek must have slept. He knew not when Yvenne left their bed or their quarters. But he heard her return—the slide of the palewood door, then her labored steps down the four steep stairs to the recessed floor.
Then the sound of her climbing the stairs. And descending again. And climbing. And descending.
Practicing, her every breath shuddering and fearful.
Chest tight, he lay in bed—making no sound, because he suspected Yvenne might stop if she knew he listened. She had opened the wound of her mother’s death for him to see. Yet still tender she must be. And with her armor gone, easily he might hurt her.
By Temra’s fist, he would never batter at her walls again. And he would take more care. He could not bear to see her spark blown out.
Her breaths sounded heavier from exertion than terror when she finished her practice. Directly toward the bed she came then, and Maddek closed his eyes, as if asleep instead of lying with his heart full from listening to Yvenne battle her demons. The stairs to the bed’s platform she climbed without much fear, it seemed. Her slight weight he felt upon the mattress—and her soft mouth, just above his knee, then higher and higher. Kissing her way up his thigh.
Instantly he was hard as stone. She chuckled softly and gripped his thickened length.
“You are awake,” she said throatily. “Now lie still.”
He could not—not if lying on his back meant missing the sight of her mouth upon his cock. Onto his elbows he rose, gaze riveted upon her face, groaning as her tongue traced a scorching path over the crown. Hands fisted in the sheets, he bore the excruciating pleasure of her hunger as she tasted him. So many times he’d imagined this. Yet never had his imaginings been near to the truth.
Eyes hot, she looked up at him. “Every day, I intend to practice my riding upon you. So that when this journey is over, I will not be so saddlesore again.”
Hoarsely he told her, “That is a fine idea.”
Her full lips curving, she moved back onto the dais, shedding her silk robe. Only her linens wrapped her limbs when she climbed into the bed again. With his gaze, he devoured her, then met her eyes again when she gave a husky admission.
“I like the way you look at me, Maddek.”
“I like knowing that I am the only one who has seen you thus.” A foolish thing to enjoy. Yet he did.
Her smile widening, she swung her leg over his hips. “Should I ask you to cover, too?”
“I would.” For her, he would.
“I do not think I will.” Her soft hand clasped his jutting length. “I like knowing that everyone can see your strength, your handsomeness . . . and it is all mine.”
His teeth gritted with sheer pleasure as she angled his cock to her cunt. He caught her hips, stopping her. “You are not ready.”
“I am.” Eyes heavy-lidded, she dragged the head of his cock through the wet lust between her thighs. “Nothing else have I thought of since waking but the memory of you inside me.”
So wet she was. Sinking down upon him, drawing him into that scalding embrace. Yet she could not take him all—the difficulty not in her arousal, but her knee as she tried to bend it against the mattress. Discomfort shortened her breath.
“I cannot—” Utter disappointment shattered her expression. “I cannot ride you like this.”
“That is not proper riding, anyway.” He held on to her and slid to the edge of the bed, feet braced on the dais. When far enough he went, her legs dangled free, just as if she sat upon a mount with no saddle or stirrups.
There Yvenne’s weight carried her down the full length of his cock and she gasped. No pain he heard, only pleasure in that sound.
“You’re so deep,” she breathed.
“Do you want less?”
She shook her head, lip between her teeth. And then she rode in truth, not with legs braced on the bed, but rising through her hips. A deep moan rose up from her chest and her head fell back, the tip of her braid swinging against his thighs. Then she leaned forward and braced herself upon his chest, her gaze locked with his as slowly she rode him.
And no greater pleasure had Maddek ever known than now, buried inside the warm embrace of her cunt. No great height did she rise and fall, so deep he remained, her snug entrance sliding and working the base of his shaft as Yvenne used him for her pleasure. Slowly she increased her speed and he slipped his thumb through her moistened curls to rub her clit.
“Maddek.” Again her head fell back, then forward. Her hips began a frantic circle. “Oh, Maddek.”
“Fly, Yvenne.” Sitting up, he caught her nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. She cried out and buried her fingers in his hair. With thumb still circling her clit, he gripped her ass with his left hand and urged her faster, harder, higher. “Fly.”
With a scream through clenched teeth, she did, her inner muscles clamping hard upon his length, and swiftly he followed her on that flight. Then so sweetly she came down, cupping his face in her hands, her mouth on his for a long, slow kiss.
He was still inside her, yet even closer he wanted to hold her. His hands slid up her bare back, callused palms gliding over skin that was rougher than his.
His heart turned to stone and he stiffened. Her mouth froze upon his.
“Yvenne,” he said, his voice shredded. As her back must have been.