Her One Wish (Kingdom, #10)

“I’m not bloody asking you to kill Crispin, so let’s not get our knickers into a twist.”


Her mouth opened before she quickly snapped it shut. She was angry. Furious with him. The blood had risen into her cheeks again, flooding her bronzed skin and making it practically gleam molten in the firelight.

His pulse thundered and raced, his veins shot through with excitement. Hunger, for her, consumed him. To taste her lips. Just once. Maybe it would be enough to burn the madness out of him.

He hadn’t lied when he’d told her he was heartless, emotionless.

But he hadn’t told her the full truth, either.

Because the moment he’d seen the genie, the moment she’d opened her mouth and spoken to him, something he’d thought dead and buried had come to life with a violence and quickness that’d left him breathless.

For the first time in centuries he wanted more than just Crispin’s head on a platter.

“You’re psychotic. Like seriously,” she growled. “How I keep getting fooled by you, I’ll never know.”

Snorting, he reached into his pocket and pulled out another apple and handed it to her. But instead of taking it, Nixie slapped his wrist away, causing the apple to fall at their feet.

“No, thank you. No more gifts from you. Whatever you’re going to wish”—her cheeks warmed to an even brighter red, making his fingers itch to trace the path of it—“just do it now and release me. I don’t like mind games. I never have.”

Let her go?

Just like that.

Hell no.

He set his jaw. “I’ll make my wishes when I’m good and ready.”

“You make no sense. No sense at all. Most masters couldn’t wait to tell me what they wanted, it never bothered them that I’d leave after I was done. They didn’t care, because it was all about the wishes. So wish and be done with it!”

Her nostrils flared, her honeyed eyes sparked with passion and fury. Black tendrils of her hair danced upon the lush swells of her breast, and the madness of wanting her consumed him.

“Dammit it all to blazes,” he snarled, and, without warning, wrapped his fingers tightly around her wrist and yanked her onto his lap.

The genie barely had a moment to squeak out a surprise before he slammed his mouth down on hers, taking her lips almost violently.

Their teeth banged together. His blood pooled, coiling tight between his legs, making the hunger even more powerful.

And Nixie, she didn’t fight it as he’d half expected, half hoped she would. If she’d shoved him back, he would never have done it again. He’d wanted her to tell him to go to Hell. To slap his face. He’d wanted her to make this madness stop for the both of them.

But she was as wild and aggressive in her response as he was. Her nails raked the back of his skull, leaving welts in their wake. Her tongue was ravenous and seeking, drawing a wet line between his lips until he opened on a moan.

She tasted of fire and sweetness. His head swam, his cock ached.

“Goddess,” he whispered, plundering her mouth like he ached to do with her body. Sweeping his tongue along her teeth, wrapping it around her own, attempting to take her into his very soul.

“What have you done to me?” she whispered back to him. “You’re a demon, Robin. The devil.”

“Aye,” he groaned when one of her hands slid down his back, fingers teasing the line of his ass. “I am.”

He didn’t think. He couldn’t. Not rationally anyway. His fingers were desperate things as they ripped at her flimsy top, exposing her full breasts and dusky-hued nipples to him.

Too frenzied to study her at his leisure, needing to taste her now, he lowered his head and sucked one of her nipples into the warm recesses of his mouth.

An inarticulate grunt fell from her lips as her hands wrapped around his throat. Robin could feel the strain of her touch. Like she wanted to choke him and draw him closer all at the same time.

Swirling his tongue around it until it stood up in a tight, jagged peak, he moved on to the next one. Offering it the same type of tender devotion. Her flesh tasted of salt and floral perfume, teasing his senses. Filling his head with nothing but her.

Nixie undulated her hips on his turgid, achingly hard length, making his blood boil. He was going to explode in his pants if she didn’t stop. But it’d been too damn long for him. There was nothing on this world that could make him stop now.

Nothing, but her. And she wasn’t even trying to slow things down. She rode him hard. He shifted his hips, giving her a better angle to slide up and down on.

“Oh my god,” she hissed with eyes screwed tightly shut. “I hate you,” she grunted. “So much. Hate.”