Rise of a Queen (Kingdom Duet #2) by Rina Kent

My brow furrows. “What?”

“There’s the reason why you’re not Maxim. He wouldn’t give a fuck if people suffered as long as he got his gratification. You got stabbed and remained quiet to protect others.”

“But I c-cut you.” The words burn in my throat.

“You were cornered, and I’m certain you won’t do it again.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just am.”

My chin trembles. “I-I’m so sorry, Jonathan.”

“Stop apologising.”

“But —”

“If you don’t, I’m going to spank you.”

My insides liquefy at that promise. This feeling of utter surrender to the lust I have towards Jonathan is the reason I trashed everything. I tried to get anyone’s attention so they would open the door and I’d get to flee.

The fact that he could use my body against me scared me. It still does, but now, I feel like I’m suspended in an altered reality. Now, I don’t have the right to think about anything past the fact that I hurt him.

I could’ve killed him.

I could’ve lost him once and for all.

“Jonathan, I —”

“Shut up, Aurora.”

“But I —”

His hand wraps around my throat and his lips capture mine. My words and tears come to a halt and my thoughts scatter into thin air. Something tells me I shouldn’t do this, but that reason can be damned.

I moan into his mouth as he claims me whole. He tastes of cognac and coffee. I love this taste on him so much. The fact that it’s mixed with his woodsy, spicy scent feels as if I’m diving deep into him.

My tongue meets his, keeping up with his pace — or trying to, anyway. He’s too intense for me to maintain the same rhythm. Having his fingers around my neck adds to the lethal feel of his sheer presence surrounding me like a vice.

Still kissing me, he flips me over so I’m lying on my back on the mattress in the midst of the chaos of thrown clothes, towels, and sheets.

His mouth leaves mine, and I breathe heavily, my lips are swollen and raw, but I want more. I need the confirmation that he forgives me, that he sees that I didn’t mean to hurt him.

Jonathan’s fingers tighten around my throat, and I clutch his hand, not to remove it, but to keep it as leverage. I need to hold on to something, and it’s strange that he’s the only thing I can turn to.

“Don’t cry again.” His voice is hard yet tender at the same time. “Those eyes aren’t made for tears.”

Before I can make complete sense of his words, he crawls down my body and flings the nightgown to my waist.

I didn’t bother with underwear after my morning bath, and I’m glad I didn’t.

An appreciative groan comes from Jonathan’s lips as he slides his fingers through my folds. I’ve forgotten what it felt like to be dead down there. Jonathan made me bury that part of me with every orgasm he’s wrenched out of me.

Now, I don’t even need pain. I just need his presence and my entire body flames back to life.

He releases my throat, and before I can protest, he settles on his knees at the foot of the bed and starts to open my legs.

They widen of their own volition as his fingers slide from my core to my inner thighs, leaving a wet trail.

I’m falling into that sensation when Jonathan’s tongue does a long swipe. My back arches off the bed as a zap of pleasure sparks down my spine.

He holds my thighs in a merciless grip as he thrusts his tongue inside me. At first, it’s slow, almost as if he’s sampling me.

I’ve never allowed anyone to go down on me. It felt too intimate and just wasn’t something I was willing to give up. Just like, before I met Jonathan, I’d never gone to my knees to suck a man off. However, Jonathan has burnt through my inhibitions one by one like it’s his God-given right.

The foreign sensation causes my lips to part in a needy whimper.

“Fuck.” His head peeks up from between my legs. “You’re the best thing I’ve tasted.”

And then he’s back to feasting on me. Gone is his unhurried pace. Jonathan thrusts in and out of me with a rhythm that liquefies my limbs. My nipples turn into hard pebbles, straining against the nightgown’s material.

I grip his hair with both hands, fingers digging into his skull as he ruthlessly devours me. There’s no other description for it. Jonathan doesn’t only eat me, he claims me. He owns my body, but he doesn’t stop there. In a way, it’s like he’s also coming after my soul.

The detonation sneaks up on me and grips me in its ruthless clutches. I brace the sheets for leverage, nails sinking into the cloth as more of my arousal coats his face.

If that bothers him, he doesn’t show it. Not one bit. Jonathan goes on and on, lapping his tongue against my most intimate part. The feel of his stubble adds friction I didn’t know would be this pleasurable. He does one long sweep from the bottom of my slit to the top, then he does it again.

He doesn’t stop until I’m a quivering mess on the bed. “Ohh…J-Jonathan… Aaah…”

My words end on a gibberish sound as I come all over his mouth. My legs are boneless and my spine tingles due to the force of my orgasm.

Jonathan climbs atop of me, his hand wrapping around my throat as his lips find mine again. It’s almost as if our mouths were never separated. This time, his tongue smears mine with my own juices.