Cruel King (Royal Elite #0) by Rina Kent

“Modelling for me?”

“I know you’ve been painting me, and taking peeks at my body while you think I’m asleep.”

I gasp. “You saw the painting?”

“No. I’ll wait until you show it to me.”

A breath of relief heaves out of my lungs. Okay, we’re safe. But how the hell did he know I was painting him? More importantly…

“What makes you think it’s a nude?” I narrow my eyes.

He chuckles then, it’s deep and rough and fucking hot. I love it when he chuckles like that.

Unless it’s in front of other women. That, I don’t like.

“You only watch me when I’m sleeping naked. Besides, you’re blushing, princess.”

“I am not. It’s just the heat of the room.”

“The heat of the room, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.”

His laugh echoes after me as I storm in front of my canvas and flop down on the seat.

Despite his dick attitude, I won’t miss the chance of having him model for me. Besides, he’s right, I’ve been working a nude for him.

When I mentioned nudes to Levi a few months ago, he was surprisingly pro the idea as long as he’s the first and last and only nude I’ll ever draw.

Truth is, I’m not interested in other nudes. It takes a lot of intimacy to sketch someone in their initial form, uncovered and raw.

Since our days in Royal Elite School, I’ve been sketching Levi half-naked behind his back. The idea to make a nude portrait of his magnificent body has been running rampant in my head since then. So I thought; what’s better than to give him a nude sketch as a wedding gift?

I’ve been working on this for months, carefully adding one detail at a time. Having him entirely naked in front of me will save me a lot of energy and sneaking around.

I took so many photos of him, it’s stalker-level, but even then, I couldn’t get a few things right.

This is my golden opportunity.

I remove the cover and retrieve my charcoal. In no time, I’m in the zone, sketching along the ridges of his abs, the curve of his neck, the line of his collarbone.

Then I retouch some parts in his muscular arms and the veins in his hands. Those hands that carry me so effortlessly every time. The hands that grab my thighs under the table whenever we’re out, slowly going up and —

I shake my head inwardly.

Focus, Astrid.

I move down to the ridges of his stomach and to the V line leading down to his cock.

A spark of longing hits me out of nowhere. Hell, isnʼt he more erect than when I walked in?

Geez. It’s hard to be professional when all I want to do is put my mouth on him and let him fuck all the stress out of me.

“You’re blushing again, princess.” His gleaming eyes capture mine in a spell, potent and strong.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I grumble, my hand quivering.

“Like what?” He drawls.

“Like you want to… you know.”

“Fuck you? Make you scream with the force of your orgasm?”

A spark of pleasure races down my spine and pools at the bottom of my stomach.

Why do I want that so much?

He jerks up, and I do too, quickly covering the canvas. “What are you doing? Models don’t move.”

“This one does.” His wide strides cut the distance between us in a few seconds.

He wraps his arms around my waist. Our lower halves grind against each other, and I hiss a breath as the hardness of his cock nestles between my shorts.

Why the hell am I even dressed?

“I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment you walked in,” He rasps, breathing me.

Before I can make out what’s happening, he captures my lips in a fervent, hard kiss that steals my breath away.

My arms wind around his neck, uncaring that I’ve got charcoal all over my hands.

Without breaking the kiss, Levi places a hand under my arse and pulls me in his arms. The act is so effortless and natural as he marches out of the studio.

“Aren’t you supposed to model for me?” I ask breathlessly against his mouth.

“Later,” he grunts, his voice husky with arousal. “We can do that later.”

Not that I’m complaining about the turn of events.

He barges into the bedroom — our bedroom — and slams the door shut with his foot.

He puts me on the bed and nearly rips my shorts and T-shirt off. I fumble with the buttons and help him undress me.

In Levi’s fashion, he does rip my underwear, though. The friction of his fingers against my most sensitive part leaves me breathless, aching for more.

I pant, showing him my charcoal-covered hands. “I’m all dirty.”

“Oh, I’m going to make you dirtier, princess,” he grunts against the hollow of my neck before he places an open-mouthed kiss on the curve of my throat.

He doesn’t stop there, though.

As he throws the last piece of clothing covering me — my bra, he sucks on my collarbone and the delicate skin of my breast.

My back arches off the bed, letting the overwhelming sensation sweep me over, capture me in its depths, and unravel me.

“Levi…” I sink my fingers into the small hairs at the back of his neck.

“Fuck, I love the way you say my name.” His mouth wraps around an aching nipple and sucks it inside as his finger twirls the other one. “And I love these tits. They were made for me, weren’t they, princess?”