King of the Wilds - Tasha Black Page 0,23

this woman was ready for adventure and new experiences.

“You are incredible,” she told him. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“Let me see your hand,” he heard himself say.

She slowly raised it, and he placed his palm against hers.

A shaft of moonlight illuminated their hands and allowed him to see the exact moment that inky vines appeared around their fingers, twining them together.

Miranda met his gaze, and in her eyes, he saw his own feelings reflected - fear, joy, and surprise.

But most of all, he saw her desire.

It was easy to recognize. He had felt it himself since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her.

“Bron,” she whispered.

He pressed his lips to hers, tired of bucking his fate.

She kissed him back, bravely, as she did everything else.

A wave of lust washed over him, leaving him breathless.

He cupped her cheek in his hand and begged himself to go slowly. This wasn’t some bawdy fae consort. This was a mortal woman, delicate in spite of her courage.

But when she moaned against his mouth, he began to lose his resolve.

He thumbed open her jaw and tasted her tongue as her arms went around his neck.

Her taste was pure sweetness, and her body was soft against his, melting into him as he kissed her, trying to imbibe her.

He could feel her desire as if it were his own.

She was of his realm.

He had not known it could be like this, her desire stoking his, the raw need echoing back and forth between them.

This was why they had kept him from mortals. The feeling was intoxicating. He never wanted to do anything else again but kiss this mortal woman and feel her need for him electrify them both.

But it wasn’t enough, he needed more, and he knew she did, too.

He wrapped his arms around her and eased them both down to the soft grass. Miranda pressed herself closer to him, as if she wanted to meld her flesh to his.

He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her clean scent and nibbling her sensitive skin.

Miranda giggled, like a bubbling stream, and he drank in the sound.

He moved lower, sliding his thumbs under the straps of her swimming garment. She wiggled, helping him remove the thing completely, so that she lay naked beneath him.

He took in her pale, curving form for a moment, listening to the emotions that washed over her at once: desire, excitement, and embarrassment.

“You are everything a king could wish for in his queen,” he told her gruffly, horrified that embarrassment could find its way into their joy.

He could sense the blood rushing to her cheeks, feel her smiling before he saw it.

She lifted her arms, urging him into her embrace.

But he needed to taste every inch of her first.

He lowered himself to her breasts, eager to hear the sounds she would make when he applied himself to her properly.

For a moment, all of their differences ceased to matter, and he lost himself in the desire that united them.

12

Miranda

Miranda nearly screamed with the pleasure of Bron’s mouth on her skin.

Somehow, he knew before she did exactly what she needed, exactly what would make her shiver.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, an internal accountant was adding up the fact that a tattoo had just appeared around their fingers, that she was now inexorably connected with this wild man.

But she just couldn’t bring herself to be upset about it.

Not when he was pressing kisses to her belly and thighs, nudging her legs apart to get to her sex.

“Miranda,” he moaned, and she could hear what was unsaid in every harmonic of his gorgeous voice.

I love you.

I need you.

You are mine.

She let him have his way, parting her thighs wantonly, angling her hips to make it easy for him to get what he wanted.

The pleasure took her breath away.

She closed her eyes and opened them again, seeing the stars winking between the branches of the rose briar he had built around them.

Here was a man big enough to take anything he wanted - a fae king with the power to make the natural world bend to his will.

Yet he tended to her as if she were precious.

When he slipped a huge finger inside her, Miranda felt herself begin to fly apart.

“Bron,” she whimpered.

He fed on her frantically and she rode on the wings of a pleasure so acute she was afraid she would die.

He groaned against her as he teased out every last twinge of ecstasy.

Then he crawled up beside her and pulled her into his