Regal Queen by Ivy Mason

Eighteen

As Bourbon sweptme into his arms and carried me towards the house, kissing me the whole time, a sense of tragic misery filled me.

Dimitri was scheduled to met up with Aster in four days. We were going to circumvent that by calling Nero, bringing Dimitri to us. I knew that as soon as Nero knew where we were, Dimitri would come sweeping in.

And now that I was finally in Bourbon’s arms, now that he was opening up to me, showing me the kind of sweet, caring man he could be, our time together was like a ticking bomb.

What if these next days were the only days we had together? What if we were charging towards our tragic destiny like Romeo and Juliet, meant for an ending so terrible that sonnets could be written about it?

What if this was the only time I would ever get to know Bourbon, the real man behind the mask?

The thought was haunting, making my heart clench with grief and yet, at the same time, I was desperate to know the truth.

I wanted to strip Bourbon down.

To take away his masks, his walls, crash through his fucking barriers to see the real man behind it all.

To see the heart and soul of the man.

And to give myself to him in return.

"Rose,” he murmured against my lips, dropping me to my feet as soon as he shut door behind us, “I can't wait any longer."

Pushing me against the door, his hands dragged across my shirt to yank it up and I scrambled to pull his shirt over his head. We were a tangle of cloth, hands, lips and desperation.

As soon as it was over my head, his lips were on mine again.

His mouth consumed mine, desperate and needy, and his fingers moved up my side, clenching, fisting, touching, feeling, knowing.

I was as desperte for him as he was for me. His mouth was my haven, his body, my fortress, and his heart, my shelter.

He groaned out, a deep primal sound, and his fingers fisted my hair, pulling it so tight that my mouth ripped from his. I inhaled a deep, catching breath, staring up at him. His chest heaved as he stared down at me, and he was once again my master, his expression demanding I submit to him.

Fire blazed through me, the need to subject myself to his control warred with the need to keep control.

I wanted to kneel at the alter of my god, to surrender myself to him.

I wanted to stand on two feet, to meet him match for match, to grasp his imperial, kingly heart in my puny hand and ask for his submission.

To see him kneel at my feet because he wanted to do it. Not because I demanded it, but because he loved me enough to willingly surrender to me.

“Take off your pants, Rose.”

I pulled in a breath, my fingers already moving to the snap of my jeans before I even thought about it. I tentatively unhooked them, staring into his eyes as I pulled the zipper down. Then I relaxed my hands at my side, unwilling to go further.

His eyes clouded over, his brows furrowing, then, staring into my eyes, he lowered himself, his hands going to tug my pants and underwear down as he kneeled before me. As soon as my shoes and my pants were off, he leaned in, gripping my side and closing his eyes as he gently kissed my belly.

“You are my Queen, my love, and I intend to worship your body as I would my most treasured possession. Because you are worth more to me than anything else.”

My fingers dug into his hair, gently guiding him lower as my own need burned through me. My emotions tumbled and scrambled as he groaned a needy sound, pressing his lips across my skin, urgently licking and suckling me.

“I want to show you what you mean to me,” his fingers teased at my entrance. “Open up for me, love.”

I slid my legs apart and, with his help, one of my legs was straddling his shoulder as he pressed his mouth against my cunt, suckling and pulling, creating an ache inside me that had me clutching against the door, eyes squeezed shut. “Open your eyes, Rose. Look at me.”

I looked down at him and his teeth sunk in at the crook of my thighs. His eyes burned with desire, flaring with heat. He bent his finger, sliding it up to knuckle my opening, stroking me. I was so wet and needy for him. “I want this cunt.” He sunk his knuckle in deeper. “I’m going to own this when I’m done with you.” He stroked me, teasing me, sinking deeper and deeper each time. “There will be no other man for you. When I’m done with you, my name will be seared all over this gorgeous pussy.”

I groaned, throwing my head back and panting as he clamped his mouth down on my clit, pumping his knuckle in and out and in and out.

“Is that what you want, Rose?” he growled, his voice a deep tremor that sent vibrations straight up me. “Do you want me to own this pussy?”

I pressed my hands against the back of the door, holding on for my life as shooting sparks of pleasure zipped straight up inside me. I shamelessly ground against his mouth, chasing my high.

A hand came down on my inner thigh, sending a searing sensation through me.

“I said,” he did it again, and I cried out at the need pulling through me, “do you want me to own this cunt?”

I nodded my head, tears sliding down my face as my emotions tore through me. That’s exactly what I wanted. He slapped my inner thigh again and I cried out, unable to stop myself any longer. “Yes!”

His teeth sunk into my pussy lips, and I heaved with the effort of keeping myself upright. Pressure in my core jackhammered through me with every pump of his knuckle. My heart thudded against my ribs. I clutched my fingers in his hair, hanging on for my life as he ripped the ground from underneath me, flinging me over the edge of the precipice.

I shattered. Hard.

Bucking wildly, I clenched my teeth as my orgasm detonated like a bomb going off between my thighs. He lapped at my sensitive clit, consuming me with every stroke of his tongue. I groaned out, clenching, grinding. “Fuck me, Bourbon. I need to feel you inside me.”

Within seconds, he was on his feet, his zipper down. I heaved as he pulled his erect cock out, thick and long, dripping with pre-come. He plunged inside me and I mewled with want as he stretched me open, wrapping his hands under my thighs to spread me wider. Then he pushed me against the wall again, using it for leverage as he slammed inside me. Letting one of my thighs go, he grabbed my chin, forcing me to look upwards.

“Look at me, Rose.” I stared into his eyes, a guttural moan ripping from my throat as he pounded into me. The pounding only made my orgasm stretch out, sparks shooting, soaring through my body, lighting me on fire. “Look at me as I take you. I need you to see me as I fuck you.”

“Yes,” I cried out. “Please.”

“Tell me you want this. Want me to claim you with my dick.”

He pounded me like a man who had no limits. Like a man desperate to have me. Like a man frantic to stake a claim over me. Tension crackled between us like lightning, striking us with it’s electric flame.

“Yes, Bourbon. Fuck me. Fuck me you like you own me.”

He lost it, a deep guttural cry ripping from his lips as he fucked me like a man possessed. Then he jerked out of me, spraying his cum onto my belly. He heaved, then ran his fingers through it, spreading it over my skin, marking my stomach and tits with it. Then he spread it lower, down through my cunt, staring into my eyes. “You belong with me, Rose. Me.”

He was right.

I belonged to him.

Though I would never admit it.