That Prince Is A Girl The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate by Kiss Leilani

He was in front of her before the last syllable left her lips. Towering, crowding her, surrounding her. She breathed him in. feeling a deep sense of longing… not just in her heart, but in her feminine core. Rising on her toes, she kissed him first. She poured her craving and desperation into it. The kiss was fast and a little clumsy, but so full of need.

And within heartbeats, he was kissing her back. He devoured her, and she drowned in it.

Emeriel would never grow tired of his kisses–never lose her addiction to the feel of his mouth, the taste of him, the way his lips moved against hers as though she was all he had ever hungered for.

Cool silk sheets met her back, he lowered next to her, lying by her side, his kisses trailing over her skin. His mouth moved along her throat, down the delicate line of her neck, and lower still… until his lips found her breast and he took her nipple into his mouth.

Emeriel cried, arching into him. Her fingers threaded into his hair, holding him to her. Oh, to feel this again…. to have him again.

The sensation was sharper than she remembered, sharp as a hot jolt. She had always been sensitive there, but since her pregnancy, her breasts–her nipples–had become almost unbearably so. Tugs of his mouth made her breath hitch, stutter, stop.

She was so aroused she could feel her own slick against her thighs. Emeriel pressed them tightly together again, trying to alleviate the growing ache. Every pull soon turned into maddening torture, for where she needed him most remained blissfully empty.

“I need you.” She opened her eyes, pleading. “Inside me. Please.”

He stopped, pulling back. “Are you sure?” Eyes searched hers, pupils blown wide.

“Yes.” She nodded fervently. “Yes, please…”

So he moved. Catching her legs, he pulled until she slid to the edge, rose to stand at the foot, his eyes drinking her in. He leaned into her, bracing his hands on either side of her, his torso framed by her bent knees. He fit himself between her thighs as though he belonged there–and he did. He always had.

hardness to her core, the anxiety

entering. He merely watched her with that all–seeing gaze of his that had ensnared her years ago

“Look at me,

love.”

Emeriel arched her head

so beautifully, taking his touch so well,”

nudged against her, and

won’t do,” Alviara addressed the grand king. “Your Grace, forgive me for this, but it must

bed beside Emeriel, snaked a hand

in Emeriel’s body

bones, but Alviara didn’t so much as flinch. The courtesan’s tongue parted Emeriel’s lips, coaxing her mouth open, kissing her with a

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mouth. “Endure it. Open yourself to

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that completely took Emeriel over. And for a