The Most Powerful Of Kings - Jackie Ashenden Page 0,30

experienced and this was new to her, and he didn’t like the thought of taking her roughly, with no niceties at all. He wanted this to be good for her. He wanted her to remember it. Remember him.

Why should you care about that?

He didn’t know. She wasn’t a politician or one of his council. Not one of his generals or a fellow head of state. She was only one little nun with whom he happened to have some chemistry and there was no need at all for her to remember him.

But he wanted her to.

She was shaking in his arms now, moaning against his mouth, so he kept his hand between her thighs, his finger sliding in a rhythm that made her shake even harder. Then he pressed down on the most sensitive part of her with his thumb, just a small brush.

And he held her as she convulsed against him, a cry of pleasure escaping as the orgasm washed over her.

He let her sit there for a moment, running one hand absently up and down her back to ease her down, barely aware he was even doing it. It was painful having her in his lap because he was so hard. But he didn’t move. There was something sweet about holding her in his arms, about the way she turned her hot face into his neck, her breath warm on his skin.

Then quite suddenly she sat up, her silvery eyes staring fixedly at him, a crease between her fair brows. She didn’t seem concerned that she was sitting there basically naked while he was mostly fully dressed.

‘Please tell me there’s more,’ she said, her voice scratchy.

And he found himself smiling, predatory and hungry.

‘Oh, yes,’ he murmured, impatient now. ‘There’s more.’ Then he moved, taking her down onto the couch beneath him. ‘There’s a lot more.’

CHAPTER SIX

ANNA FELT AS if she was outside herself. As if she’d changed in some way, become someone else. Someone who didn’t have to be quiet and good. Someone who didn’t have to make sure she was grateful all the time for any scrap of attention that came her way.

She’d become a woman made entirely out of heat and sensation, a wanton who demanded attention and got it. Who demanded pleasure and got it.

Who had the entire focus of the most beautiful, most exciting, most powerful man in the world centred on her and her pleasure.

She lay on the couch, the leather cool against her back, with Adonis’s big, hard body stretched above her, and there was nowhere on earth she wanted to be right now other than where she was, beneath him.

She’d had no conception of what sex could be like. What touch could mean. Had no idea that she wouldn’t feel shy and she wouldn’t feel modest when he took her dress off. When he touched her breasts or the place where she was most needy, between her thighs. All she’d been conscious of was how intense the sensations were, how incredible it felt when he touched her. When that piercing blue gaze raked over her. And it wasn’t cold any more, but blazing hot, electric.

And it was she who’d done that to him. It was she who’d melted the ice. No one special, no one all that different. Just a girl nobody had wanted.

But he wanted her. This king.

Except she couldn’t see the icy, controlled king any more. The man above her was hungry and powerful, and as predatory as the lion he wore on his back. A man who had that intense, laser focus centred only on one thing—her.

There was more, of course there was more. And when he came to his knees between her thighs and pulled off her knickers, all she felt was relief. Because the need inside her was building again. He’d quenched it before, with his magic hands and his hot mouth, but just looking at him, just imagining what was going to happen, had the breath catching in her throat and desire sharpening between her thighs.

But not only her own pleasure. She was hungry to touch him too. Hungry to give him the same pleasure he was giving her, to share with him what she was feeling.

He was so cold. A mountain made of ice and stone, towering over the rest of the world. Powerful and remote, and very dangerous. Yet alone. She could sense that in him, because it was that loneliness that lay at the heart of her too. Whether he knew it or