Rise of a Queen (Kingdom Duet #2) - Rina Kent Page 0,27
At first, it’s slow, almost as if he’s sampling me.
I’ve never allowed anyone to go down on me. It felt too intimate and just wasn’t something I was willing to give up. Just like, before I met Jonathan, I’d never gone to my knees to suck a man off. However, Jonathan has burnt through my inhibitions one by one like it’s his God-given right.
The foreign sensation causes my lips to part in a needy whimper.
“Fuck.” His head peeks up from between my legs. “You’re the best thing I’ve tasted.”
And then he’s back to feasting on me. Gone is his unhurried pace. Jonathan thrusts in and out of me with a rhythm that liquefies my limbs. My nipples turn into hard pebbles, straining against the nightgown’s material.
I grip his hair with both hands, fingers digging into his skull as he ruthlessly devours me. There’s no other description for it. Jonathan doesn’t only eat me, he claims me. He owns my body, but he doesn’t stop there. In a way, it’s like he’s also coming after my soul.
The detonation sneaks up on me and grips me in its ruthless clutches. I brace the sheets for leverage, nails sinking into the cloth as more of my arousal coats his face.
If that bothers him, he doesn’t show it. Not one bit. Jonathan goes on and on, lapping his tongue against my most intimate part. The feel of his stubble adds friction I didn’t know would be this pleasurable. He does one long sweep from the bottom of my slit to the top, then he does it again.
He doesn’t stop until I’m a quivering mess on the bed. “Ohh…J-Jonathan… Aaah…”
My words end on a gibberish sound as I come all over his mouth. My legs are boneless and my spine tingles due to the force of my orgasm.
Jonathan climbs atop of me, his hand wrapping around my throat as his lips find mine again. It’s almost as if our mouths were never separated. This time, his tongue smears mine with my own juices.
The intimacy kills me, but it’s not only that. It’s the fact that Jonathan is kissing me without me having to somehow manipulate him into it.
It’s the fact that he ate me out even after I hurt him.
It’s all of him.
My fingers curl in his hair, gripping it as hard as he’s holding my neck.
He removes my palm, gently stroking the bandage and shaking his head. “You’ll reopen your wound.”
A sniffle tears from my throat as I murmur against his mouth, “Why would you care?”
His expression doesn’t change. “Why wouldn’t I?”
The words leave me in a haunted whisper, “Because you killed my sister.”
11
Aurora
The moment I say the words, they hang between us like the blade on a guillotine.
For a minute, I stare wild-eyed at Jonathan, not sure why I think he’ll chop my head off.
Wait. Is he going to?
His expression doesn’t change, but the lust that covered his features disappears. Instead, I’m faced with his stone-cold expression. The ruthless one.
The one meant to hurt.
I instinctively push back against the mattress. I might not be scared of Jonathan, but his silence snaps my shoulder blades together. It’s like I can’t breathe normally when he’s this close yet feels far away.
So far away.
His hand is still wrapped around my throat and I gulp, expecting him to squeeze the life out of me.
But that part, that stupid little part that’s slowly eating my heart, is serene, peaceful almost. That part believes that Jonathan would never hurt me. He snapped at me for aggravating my wound, after all. He wouldn’t do anything to me.
But that part keeps forgetting what Jonathan did to Alicia.
“What are you talking about?” The neutral tone of his voice and the fact that he’s not getting off me is pushing my thoughts in all different directions. I don’t know whether he’s bluffing or genuinely asking.
I could deflect or backpedal, but someone with a strong perception like Jonathan would read straight through me.
Not knowing what to say, I turn my head away and stare at the broken lamp on the side of the bed. Maybe if I study it hard enough, Jonathan will get bored and leave me alone.
I scoff internally. The chance of Jonathan leaving me alone is probably as impossible as the likelihood of that lamp magically repairing itself.
His fingers caress the pulse point in my neck in a deceptive type of softness. I have no doubt he’ll squeeze anytime he chooses to.