Forged by Malice (Beasts of the Briar, #3)

He slides back down on the mattress, eyes narrowed. “Then, my Rose, do what I said. Grab the headboard and sit on my face.”

I reach forward and grip the white wood that makes up the back of his large bed. Then I lift my hips and gingerly hover above his face. He grips my thighs with his hands, rubbing his rough stubble along the sensitive skin. My inner muscles clench with the sensation, with the warmth of his breath.

Then he guides me lower, and as he lightly brushes my aching center, all I can do is sigh. But it’s his sounds—so purely male, so eager—that make me wet with anticipation. His touch is delicate and careful, like slicing the tiniest piece off an expensive dessert to savor each bite.

He’s savoring me.

My fingers curl, gaze focused on the ripples of wood, as he continues the light kisses between my legs. Light like butterfly wings fluttering against my skin.

“You’re holding yourself up.” Kel’s rough stubble scratches the inside of my thigh. “I mean for you to use the headboard to push yourself down.”

“I’ll suffocate you,” I whisper.

He makes a dissatisfied sound. “What need do I have for air with your thighs around my head?”

And with that, he grips my hips and pulls me down. His tongue drives into me. All sense of delicacy gone, he works me with the furious passion of a man long starved. Licking, sucking, nipping at my inner thigh until he remembers he is indeed mortal—or near enough to it—and needs to breathe.

All I can do in response is babble an incoherent sob and clutch the headboard as the glorious sensations threaten to overtake every sense of my body.

Eventually my hips find a rhythm of their own, rocking and grinding against his lips, the roughness of his jaw causing an even greater thrill. “Kel,” I cry out his name, along with more senseless prattle, as my pleasure builds and builds. My palms grow slick on the headboard, but I do as my mate instructed. I push down, desperate for more of him.

I’m rewarded with an absolutely pleasurable growl as his tongue works. “Kel, I’m—I’m—” I explode into a series of spasms, muscles convulsing.

“Fuck yes, Rosalina,” he growls, continuing to lap at me as I come, rough tongue massaging my aching and tender core. “Come, Rose. Don’t stop. Give it to me.”

My pleasure crests out of me with a tiny whimper, and my fingers fall limp off the wood headboard. My legs feel like jelly. Kel lays me flat on my back. My vision spins as he kisses me, and I taste myself on his lips.

“Do you know how tortuous it has been?” he growls. “To feel you come for the others, to know they get to taste you, to watch you writhe and moan? Until dawn, Rosalina, you are all mine.”

I grip the back of his neck, fingers threading the white strands of his hair. “All yours.”

“Do you trust me?”

A nervous flutter weaves through me at the taunting tone of his voice. “Yes.”

“Good.” He runs a hand along my bare stomach. “Then trust me when I tell you that this will feel—”

A cool, prickling sensation runs down my belly, and I jam my leg up, kneeing him in the face. He jerks back, a small shard of ice flying from his hands, and cups his nose.

“What was that?” I cry.

He drops his hand and grins. “I was trying to be sensual. Do you think you could refrain from attacking me?”

I bite my lower lip. “I suppose.”

He twirls his hand, and another thin shard of ice appears between his fingers. “Good. Then lie back.”

He drags the ice along my upper ribcage, leaving a trail of water. The chill causes goosebumps to prickle all over my body, and my core clenches at the strange sensation.

“A bit of cold can be pleasurable,” he says, dragging the shard along the soft mound of my breast. When he drags the ice in circles around my nipple, I dig my heels into the mattress, straining, and try not to move. The points grow hard and aching, and the Winter Prince smiles deviously.

“You’re enjoying this,” I gasp out, wanting to swat his hand away while simultaneously telling him to never leave.

“Of course,” he continues until the whole shard is near melted under the combined heat of our bodies. “I am only just beginning to explore you, to see what makes you smile, makes you gasp.”

Then as the last of the ice melts, he replaces his hand with his mouth, the warmth such a contrast to the cold. I arch my hips, gasping, clawing at his back. He laps up the cold water around my nipple before swirling with his tongue and sucking.

Unable to help myself, I shoot a hand between my legs, wishing I could reach for him instead.

His free hand goes to massage my other breast, and I cry out at the cold points of his fingertips. The icy bastard doesn’t even need to make ice—he’s bloody frost itself. But I don’t have time to launch a complaint before his hot mouth replaces the cold.

“Oh fuck, Kel, I hate you. I hate how good this feels, you stupid, icy prick.”

He laughs and sits up, spreading my knees and clasping my wandering hand with his own. Then, with a wave of his palm, soft snow begins to fall, the flakes landing and melting almost instantly on my heated body. I sigh in pleasure at the sensation.

“I have one more thing.” He grins wickedly, then holds up a new object made of ice.

I raise myself on to my forearms. In his hand is a large icicle, but with a rounded tip. I suddenly realize what he means that for. “It’s too big. Kel, that’s—”

“It’ll melt inside of you,” he says plainly.

“Even if it melts a little, that’s still—”

“You’ve had both Farron and Dayton’s cocks.”

I cross my arms. “That’s different. They can’t control the size. This you’re purposely making … monstrous.”

He grins and bites the lobe of my ear. “You’ve seen my cock, Rosalina. You know this barely compares. One day, I will fill you. And it’s best to be prepared.”

Slowly, I let my knees fall to the side, unable to say that his prowling look and his words weren’t making me a little curious.

“All right,” I say. “But I’m telling Day you made an ice dildo, and you’ll have to deal with his reaction. He’ll probably want one for himself.”

“Fair enough.” Keldarion chuckles lightly, propping the cold object at my entrance. “But that is considering you still have a voice tomorrow and have not lost it all screaming.”

“Kel—” His name fades to a moan as he gently slides the ice inside me. The shock of the chill, of the size, has me throwing back my head and writhing. “Oh god!”

His eyes blaze, hand tight around the shaft. “Long have I dreamt of slipping inside you. This will have to do for now.”

I squirm on the object, wishing it were truly him, but euphoria seizes me regardless. He drives it deeper and deeper until I feel his fingertips at my entrance and the most wonderful full sensation.

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