His voice was quiet, but his tone still made the words an order. His timbre was deceptive—a complete contrast to the fierce urge riding him.
She complied immediately, whimpering a little as she moved up on her knees and her hands gripped the sheets. Her body was shaking.
He grabbed her hips and slammed his thick organ back inside of her. Her ass was fabulous, and he dug his fingers into the soft flesh as he moved. She was fucking tight this way, and every time he slammed up into her, she cried out and her womanhood tightened up.
He closed his eyes for a moment, tilted his head back, and focused on the feeling of her wrapped around him as he plunged deep into her. When his eyes opened again, he looked down to where his organ was sliding in and out of her, but the sight was too distracting; he had to close his eyes, or he’d release. Instead, he leaned over her back and slid his hands up her sides and around to grip her breasts.
He pulled at her nipples—not hard, but enough to make her body jerk with more stimulation. She moaned, clawing on the sheets. He placed a hand on the back of her neck. With just a little pressure, he guided her head to the pillow and waited for her to turn her face to one side before he leaned in with a little more weight, holding her there.
He was slamming into her with so much force, her back bowed as a scream tore from her throat. His phallus was an iron-hard length of agony and ecstasy plunging inside her now. His hands gripped her hips, bruising in their strength as he pounded her so hard and fast she swore he would batter his way into her womb.
And he was already there.
Each stroke he hit at the mouth of her womb until the small opening caused a distinct sensation at the broad head of his shaft. “King Lucien!” she yelped as shards of painful pleasure overwhelmed her. She shrieked with each plunge of his hips and push of his hands on her hips for her to meet his strokes, driving him harder, deeper, feeling her release tighten in her womb with each thrust.
“Damn you,” he groaned, pushing her flat on her back, his legs inside hers.
Most of his weight held her down as he continued slamming into her body. She was crying out, sweating, and shaking. The thrusts inside her were rough, primitive. He pulled her to her hands and knees and took her just as hard. So hard they shook the bed, shifting inside her as she flew, as though he pierced her spirit and set it free with the exquisite pleasurable pain ripping through every nerve ending in her body. Even the surrounding air seemed to obey his will. He caressed her exposed flesh and she fought to hold herself in place, breathed over her sweat-dampened skin until the pleasurable pain became overly much to bear.
“King Lucien.” Her wailing cry was desperate, shocked, as rapture flamed around her.
“Heavens, Danika.” His voice was guttural, so rough, so deep it was animalistic.
The familiar unbearable pressure began in her womb this time. It was overwhelming and unbearable, and she began wailing and thrashing beneath him.
But he didn’t pull his punches, slamming into her harder as he felt his release barreling its way towards him.
And then, it happened.
Suddenly, she felt every muscle, every bone in her body lock in place as something swelled inside her womb.
It wasn’t pleasure. It went beyond ecstasy.
Her vision turned dark, and she shuddered, deep, hard tremors shaking her body as she felt her release pulse through her. The muscles of her inner flesh tightened and swelled, trapping him inside her. She heard his agonized, shocked groan, then felt her womanhood ripple as her release reached its height, milking his flesh, stroking him until she felt the heated pulse of his semen inside her. He was growling behind her, whispering something as his body jerked and shuddered against her own.
Danika lost all the energy in her body and collapsed beneath him, unable to maintain the strength in her arms or any part of her. Her cheek pressed into the sheets as she fought the agonizing tightness in her inner body. Something was happening inside her, and the pressure of it was hurting her. She didn’t know what it was, and it scared her. Her muscles spasmed with each furious spurt of seed King Lucien released, and the shattered male groan at her ear.
“Danika.” He lay against her back, his voice tortured. “Sweet God. Danika…”
She jerked with the hard spasm that tore through her at his voice, then his own dark groan at her ear. King Lucien didn’t know what was happening to her. He’d seen nothing like it. She’d released violently before, but never like this.
For a moment, it occurred to him that his demands from her had truly harmed her gravely. But he dismissed the absurd thought as soon as it came.
“Easy.” He found his hand caressing her back gently, soothingly. “It’s okay.”
“My king. My king. My king.” She was crying, whispering his name, her eyes closed.
She wouldn’t stop jerking with each claw to her womb.
“It’s okay.” One hand smoothed her damp hair back as the other slid down her hip to her thigh. “You’re okay.”
One last shuddering tremor racked her body before she felt exhaustion swamp her. True exhaustion.
Her breath shuddered from her chest, and softly, gently, darkness closed around her. Her breath evened out, and she lost consciousness.
Remeta was sleeping in her mother’s bed in the servant’s quarters, where she’d brought her after she’d fallen asleep in Danika’s bedroom.
A smile crossed her sleeping features. “Prince is here,” she whispered in her sleep, followed by a slight, sad frown. She added, “But will Prince stay?”