Throne of Secrets (Prince of Sin #2)

Twenty-Eight Adriana

A LMOST INSTANTLY, A strange rhapsodic sensation flowed through my veins as the magic settled in, drawing me closer to the masked man before me.

I suddenly wanted to tear his clothes off.

All the teasing, all the tension, it needed a release. Now.

I’d never been bound to someone before and couldn’t tell if it was his desire or my own or a combination of the two coursing through me in such strong torrents.

But something had shifted the instant our bond snapped into place.

One line replayed in my head:

My wants are your wants, my desires, your desires.

Our desires were definitely aligning, as if we needed any magical assistance there. In fact, I doubted the oath had anything to do with what we were feeling.

This attraction wasn’t created by magic; it simply felt like it.

He seemed to feel the same pull, leaning in, his lips brushing mine lightly before he tugged me up against him, deepening our kiss like a man possessed.

My hands raked through his hair, soft as down as he hoisted me up against the railing, pressing his hips into mine, his arousal already hard and thick between us.

My focus narrowed to each point of contact.

Maybe it was the magic bond settling in, or the chemistry we’d felt from that first night finally unleashing, but I’d never experienced such euphoria from simple touches before.

It felt like the world melted away and left only us, tethered in this one moment. Small but infinite and wholly consumed by each other.

Every touch, every innocent brush of his skin against mine felt like a dream and I wanted to stay lost in it forever.

His kiss was magic on its own, his lips soft but firm as they met mine, over and over.

Each nip of his teeth and slide of his tongue made my body react tenfold, the slickness between my thighs growing. It felt like we were both lost to sensations, completely giving in to our baser wants and desires, allowing our bodies to simply react to each touch and caress.

There was no rooftop, no rowdy partygoers drinking on the streets below us.

Axton and the years of heartbreak were finally a distant memory.

It was me and my stranger and the explosion of desire we couldn’t stop.

I ran my hands along the front of his shirt, needing to feel him without any layers between us. He broke our kiss, his hands sliding over my arms in gentle, loving strokes, watching as I undid the first button on his shirt, then the next.

By the time I’d gotten to the last button and slowly peeled his shirt back, I was ready for him to take me right there. He was a carving made flesh. The most exquisite thing I’d ever seen. I’d fallen for his mind first, so his powerful body was simply an added delight to marvel over.

This stranger was entirely too good to be true. And yet here he stood, very real and just as wildly attracted to me.

“Beautiful,” I whispered, tracing each hard ridge of his abdomen, my attention transfixed by him.

His entire chest was quite literally a work of art—a tattoo of two silver dragons entwined, facing each other, took up nearly every inch of his skin.

The way the dragons were positioned made it look like two halves creating a heart. Near the bottom of their serpentine bodies a banner bound them, a Latin phrase inked onto it.

Nitimur in vetitum. We strive for the forbidden.

Something like recognition slithered along the edges of my memory, but that was impossible since I’d never seen it before. Any peculiar feeling was forgotten the moment he shrugged the shirt completely off, allowing me a moment to admire him.

I traced each dip and curve of the tattoo, especially enjoying the hiss of breath he released when I continued raking my nails down, pausing at his belt line before dipping below it, stopping just shy of the fierce bulge straining against his trousers.

A male had no right to look so good or be so tempting.

But it wasn’t simply his body that aroused me; it had been his mind, his wicked tongue.

He’d captured my attention well before he’d stripped his shirt off, revealing the dark god of sin he truly was.

Once I’d explored every inch of his inked skin, he returned the favor. The glamour hadn’t yet faded, so I wasn’t sure who he was, but I didn’t care. I wanted him. Now.

“I could touch you like this all night, Lady F.”

“I’d be happy to oblige.” My eyes fluttered shut as I sank into the sensation.

His touch was erotic, a whisper of fingertips gliding along my neck, across my shoulders, dipping between my breasts.

Each caress was a promise, a declaration. A vow of all the pleasurable things to come.

“Taking my time, exploring. Adventuring across the map of your body.”

He drew little circles over my ribs, then continued down, stroking and teasing the sensitive area below my belly button, my body moving into his caress, trying to guide him lower.

His cursed hands slid upward instead, a soft laugh escaping those wonderful lips.

He twined his fingers through mine as he tugged me close, kissing me softly again. Like a fairy-tale prince courting a princess. The kiss was sweet, his hands clasping mine sweeter.

Such a vast dichotomy between this and the filthy fantasy he’d shared before. And he well knew it.

I hated to admit it, but I loved the teasing. The way he made me anticipate and crave each touch, wanting him to both end my torment and prolong it until I couldn’t take another moment of it and we both succumbed to this intoxicating need.

He unclasped our hands and traced each line of my corset, slowly tugging at the strings, undoing them only enough for him to replace his fingers with his mouth.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

From the earnest sound of his voice, he made it seem like years, not days.

He kissed down the column of my throat, then along my décolletage, slowly, maddeningly peeling my bodice down to draw the top of my breasts into his warm mouth.

Patience might be a virtue, but we were in a club of sin.

He moved upward again, nuzzling my neck. “Is there something you want, Lady F?”

“You. And you damned well know it.”

I felt his smile on my skin. The heathen knew exactly what he was doing.

My hips bucked toward him, needing to feel him pressed between my thighs, the desire to be filled growing unbearable as he played.

He gave in to my silent demand, fitting his body against mine as he began a slow, rhythmic grinding of his hips against mine, hitting a spot that made me see stars.

“Like that?”

“Yes.” My legs widened of their own accord, my short skirt riding past my thighs, inviting him closer, needing him to claim me. His hands fell to my bare skin, his attention caught on where our bodies connected. If he didn’t touch me soon, I’d lose my sanity.

Finally, blessedly, he knelt before me, his hands clamped onto my legs, both to hold me steady, prevent me from falling back over the railing, and to slowly push my thighs apart.

“Brace yourself against the railing. We’re going to give the people on the street a show.”

A small whimper escaped my lips as I gripped the railing, leaning back to gaze up at the snow falling like mad around us. I was completely at his mercy; one wrong move and I’d go tumbling back, falling to the ground several stories below.

If that didn’t speak to trust, I wasn’t sure what would.

Over the sound of my own blood rushing, I heard people chatting in the alleyway below and could only imagine what they’d witness if anyone happened to glance up. My skirt was short enough that they could already see up it.

My pulse sped faster, both in fear and in excitement as his attention turned to my inner thighs, his openmouthed kisses trailing higher.

Gods above. He was going to make his fantasy a reality and I was all too willing to play along.

He slowly peeled my undergarments down my legs, helping me step out of them before tossing them aside. Cool air brushed across my sensitive flesh, the sensation freeing as I bared myself to my stranger and anyone else who glanced up or stepped onto the roof.

He gripped the bottom of my skirt, guiding it higher, exposing me more.

“You’re beautiful.” He dragged a teasing finger across my body, his touch wrenching a moan from me. “Already deliciously wet for me, Lady F.”

I swore, my breath catching, as he chuckled and repeated the motion.

He circled my clit, then pushed the tip of his finger inside me before withdrawing it.

“Or are you drenched for them? Knowing they can see everything I’m doing to you.”

My attention dropped to him, my chest heaving.

He looked like a masked angel who’d fallen with one purpose in mind.

“Touch me.”

Without uttering another word, he bent forward, his mouth replacing his fingers in a shock of sensation that made me arch into it as if I’d been struck by lightning.

The first stroke of his tongue dragged a moan from me, my body tightening around him. It was like he was savoring that first taste of whipped cream. The next slide of his tongue dipped inside me, and I forgot anyone else was in earshot as I cried out, begging for more.

If his kiss had been magic, what he was doing with his tongue now was a gift from the old gods.

“Fucking delicious.”

He feasted like I was his own personal dessert and he’d been deprived of indulging in it for too long. He didn’t seem to care if we were caught either; he spread me wider, making love to me with his tongue, completely focused on making me feel incredible.

Right then I believed his reverent tone from before, that he’d spent decades plotting this move, not a week. That he’d dreamed of all the ways he’d make me call out for him.

I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him against me as he expertly lapped at my body. I was so close to falling over the edge, so ready to drag him there with me.

The glamour seemed to fade now, leaving only his mask in place. I hadn’t noticed before, probably because of the magic, but in his current position, I saw dragon wings tattooed across the whole of his back, cresting at the top of his shoulders.

He rocked back on his heels, pushing two fingers inside me, thrusting while his tongue stroked in tandem. Saints curse me. The male knew what he was doing. He growled his approval, the vibration mixed with his tongue and fingers making me jolt forward.

I wanted to see his face as I came.

“Take your mask off,” I demanded, tugging his hair back. “Now.”

“Only if you take yours off too.” His voice was too low for me to try to recognize it. As if he knew what I was up to, he pumped his fingers once more, his smile growing positively wicked as I bucked into him and nodded. He’d fully distracted me. “On the count of three?”

He withdrew his fingers, then pushed them back in, hooking them slightly, hitting a spot that sent a bolt of heat through me.

“One.”

I panted as he repeated the motion.

“Two.”

I was on the precipice, ready to shatter apart. And he damn well knew it. We’d been playing this game for days and I would kill anyone if they interrupted.

I reached up, gripping my own mask, ready to shed it.

With his free hand he did the same.

He withdrew his fingers, then thrust in again, my body throbbing with need as he filled me, his tongue flicking against my sensitive flesh.

“Three.”

We wrenched our masks off at the same moment he pumped into me, then did a wickedly delightful move with his thumb, pressing it hard against my swollen clit, and the orgasm I’d been so close to having came rushing through me at last.

I dropped my mask, the lace tumbling next to where he knelt in a delicate heap. He didn’t notice. He was focused entirely on ruining me for any other lover, intentionally or not.

He hadn’t lifted his face, so all I could see were his muscles flexing as he concentrated intently on each reaction my body gave him.

He leaned in as if he couldn’t stop himself from tasting me as I came. His tongue flicked over me while his fingers worked me, and I had never felt such ecstasy in all my life.

I gripped his shoulders, my head thrown back as I rode him through wave after wave of pleasure. By now every patron below must have heard us, but I didn’t care.

Gods he was incredible.

He continued to feast until the last shudder worked its way through me and I collapsed back, breathing hard. He pressed a small kiss to the inside of my thigh, his touch turning gentle, tender. Like he wanted to drag this out and replay it in his dreams.

Once I caught my breath, I finally glanced down, eager to see him without a disguise, wanting to know if the truth of him compared to my imagination in any way.

But he wasn’t quite through with me yet.

Once you’ve begged for mercy … He was making good on that statement.

His clever fingers began working me into a second orgasm. I rocked against him as he started mimicking the way he’d soon slam himself to the hilt inside me.

I was already close again, already buzzing from what he’d just done to me, and the intensity was almost too much to take as he thrust in and out.

When his other hand closed around his erection, stroking up and down over his trousers as if he couldn’t wait to be inside me, it undid any control I had left. I wanted him even more.

I cried out in rapture, and he finally looked up, a powerful, raw hunger in his expression as he watched me shatter once more from his touch.

It was primal. Possessive. And…

Our gazes locked and held, my breathy moan turning into a shout of disbelief at the exact moment I realized who he was.

But it was far too late.

The next wave of pleasure crashed through me and all I could do was ride it out, unable to stop this glorious release from happening, even if it came from him.

His fingers were still buried deep inside me, still eliciting pleasure as I clenched around him, my body uncaring about his true identity as it succumbed to the most intense wave of pleasure I’d ever felt. He pumped into me while he stroked himself, his eyes hooded with lust.

I held his gaze, unwilling to look away as I rocked into each of his thrusts and came.

My defiance only seemed to turn him on more, which made me come harder.

Finally, the last of my orgasm passed and I stopped riding his fingers. His grip on his erection loosened, his fist slowing its pumping before stopping.

I couldn’t stop myself from looking. He was still hard and hadn’t found release. Part of me wanted to unbutton his trousers and see what happened next.

My chest heaved with exertion as reality slowly settled in, breaking the moment.

Gabriel blasted Axton was my masked stranger.

And the damned prince had just given me the best two orgasms of my life.

There was no justice in the world.

Only after he seemed certain I’d come down entirely from my release, he reluctantly sat back on his heels; his hands clasped loosely in front of him as if to keep from reaching out again.

I couldn’t fathom why he’d ensured I was sated, even knowing who I was. Perhaps it was his sin that compelled him to make sure I was thoroughly satisfied.

Or maybe he simply enjoyed knowing he had such control over my body.

My attention fixed to his mouth, needing to break contact with his steady gaze until I collected myself. His damned lips glistened with my desire, sending a new wave of heat through me.

Noticing what held my attention, he slowly ran his tongue over his lower lip, pupils dilating. I internally screamed at my pulse to calm itself down. I would not be attracted to Axton.

We watched each other silently, like two opponents circling each other, unsure of our next moves.

His hazel eyes narrowed on my wig before returning to my face. I couldn’t begin to decipher what he was thinking; my own thoughts and emotions were too tangled and twisted.

“Adriana.”

“Axton.”

“This is quite an interesting night.”

His tone was light, but I knew he had to be reeling as much as I was.

We stared at each other for another silent beat. The prince dropped to his knees, a dark gleam entering his gaze as he slowly raked it down my body, undoubtedly noticing the slight trembling in my muscles from the aftershocks of pleasure that hadn’t quite abated yet.

Belatedly, I realized my skirt was still bunched up around my hips. Not that modesty mattered now. The prince had done far more than simply look at my nude form.

And there was no way for me to play down the effect he’d had on me. He knew as well as I did that he’d owned my body. My mind, however, was finally catching up to the situation.

He was nestled between my legs, his face mere inches from the place that still throbbed for him. Part of me wanted to put the masks back on and finish what we’d started.

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time we indulged.

Axton dragged his attention back up, settling it on me.

Hatred wasn’t shining in his eyes. It was something far worse.

And infinitely more complicated.

I needed to get away from him and that accursed look before we did anything else we’d regret tonight. Our minds were clearly addled from needing to overindulge in lust.

He would never commit to—

Dear gods. His bridal competition. My sister. I’d forgotten the blasted rake was hosting a very public competition to find a wife. All while carrying on in secret with me.

He kept his gaze steady on me, watching as I sorted through feelings and facts. He didn’t appear to be struggling with the truth; his breathing was calm, his posture relaxed. And all at once I understood. I had been so wrong. So very wrong. He wasn’t shocked by my identity.

He knew. From the moment I walked onto the roof wearing the cloak he’d had made. The gods-damned demon had set this up days before. That was why he’d sent the modiste. It wasn’t because of our run-in at the market. It was to prove my identity for whatever he’d plotted next. And whatever that plot entailed, I’d entered an unbreakable blood oath with him.

The realization sent me reeling.

I drew back from him, the movement too sudden for where I’d been perched against the railing. My entire sense of gravity upturned.

“Adriana.” He reached for me. “Don’t!”

With a scream, I toppled backward, falling hard and fast toward the ground.

And certain bare-bottomed death.