The Rising (The Rising #4) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,66
replaced them with his cock, fucking her against the black Airenzian stone, finger at her clit, face in her neck, his breath heavy and hot against her skin.
This he did until she climaxed for him, and then he did the same in return.
He was fucking her gently, his arm about her belly now, but his mouth was still at her neck.
“We will have only daughters. You can magick this, yes?”
He wanted to make babies with her.
And knowing that, she wanted to make babies with him.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then you will give me daughters.”
But I want a son who looks like you.
The thought entered her mind unbidden, and even if it astonished her, the having of it instantly made it a yearning.
“If we should have a son, we will teach him to love his brother, like your brother loved you, and you loved him,” she said.
He slid out, turned her to face him, then pressed her to the wall with his body, his face close to hers.
“If we had a son, he would have claim to my brother’s throne. We will have no son, Serena.”
“We would teach him—”
“You are Nadirii, you wish a boy?” he asked.
I want a boy just like you, she thought.
“I want you to have what you want,” she said.
“Then give me girls with copper hair and freckles.”
“I can magic the sex,” she muttered. “The rest is up to the goddess.”
His eyes smiled. “Then I shall pray to my gods for copper hair and freckles.” And with that, he kissed her quickly, then moved away, heading toward the door, tucking himself in his trousers as he murmured, “Clean up and go have tea and biscuits with your sister. I will see you here again as we ready ourselves for dinner.”
“Chu,” she called.
At the door, his trousers rebuttoned, he turned to her.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why?” he asked in return, his head tipping slightly to the side, his expression puzzled.
She swallowed.
And all she could say to explain her question was, “Me.”
“I did note the copper hair and freckles,” he answered immediately.
She swept her gaze away.
“My princess.”
She looked back.
“Why me?” he queried.
“Sorry?”
He studied her then inquired, “Why have you convinced yourself you are unlovable? Why do you ask yourself why my heart belongs to you and you do not ask yourself why you gave yours to me? What makes me worthy?”
“You are…Chu,” she stated lamely.
His lips tipped up. “I am that.”
She felt his seed gliding down her thigh, not to mention she felt entirely uncomfortable with this conversation she, herself, foolishly instigated, and thus she murmured, “I must clean up.”
“And you are Serena,” he called after she’d begun to turn away.
She turned back.
“I have fucked many women. I have mastered many women,” he announced, and her stomach twisted. “Not one of them was like you.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means, when she is the one, she is the one, and when she is, she becomes known as just that. You are the one, my princess warrior. I do not question why. Why I love gazing upon you. Why I love the feel of your cunt. Why I watch you use your magic on a target and it makes me fight my cock getting hard. Why I watch you offer your sister your version of kindness in her loss and it makes my heart tight. Why I like the smell of your hair when I sleep. I do not question why because there is no answer, but one. It is the one you gave to me. The answer to why for you is that I am your Chu. And the answer to why for me is that you are Serena. And you are mine.”
“I think I wish to fuck again,” she declared.
He gave her an entirely different smile as he began moving in her direction.
“No tea and biscuits?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. Just Chu.”
When he was close, he dipped low, caught her belly with his shoulder, and powered her back until she fell on the bed.
He pulled himself over her and whispered, “You need to be cleaned. We’ll start with that and see where we go.”
Chu didn’t give her the opportunity to respond.
He slid down her body.
And thus, there was no tea and biscuits for Serena.
In fact, they almost missed dinner.
King True
Informal Salon, “The Red Room,” Sky Citadel, Sky Bay
AIREN
“They asked for concessions?” Ha-Lah inquired, her brows up, her face incredulous.
“They’ve demanded I roll back my proclamations and sit down with the gentry to hammer out a ten- to fifteen-year plan