Natalie Anderson - The King's Captive Virgin

And all the while his gaze saw right through her. All the while his head lowered, bringing his mouth nearer to hers.

‘You’re a liar,’ she whispered shakily.

‘So are you.’

She could have said no again. She could have turned her head away. But she did neither of those things. If anything she tilted her chin at him, meeting him in the moment he put his mouth to hers.

For a split-second old instincts surfaced and she stiffened, her body screaming its rejection. But the pressure of his mouth changed immediately. He softened, eased, and ultimately coaxed until her eyes closed. In the velvety blackness it was as if she’d been drugged and was now drowning in a warmth of sensation and bliss. His hands drifted delightfully, sweeping up her back— holding her but not forcing her against him. No, she was the one who pressed closer.

Muscles... Yes, she’d known he had muscles. But never in her life had she wanted to rub against a man the way she did now. Without thinking, almost without realising, she opened her mouth. His tongue slid between her parted lips, stroking lightly, teasing, before pulling back to trace the full pout of her lower lip. She felt the gentle throb of her pulse there, so highly sensitised she almost moaned. His lips covered hers again and his tongue strayed deeper—piercing, stroking the cavern of her mouth. She mewled as he caressed her more gently, more intimately than any man had. Licking. Sucking. Taking.

Her response was so sudden, so profound, that she began to tremble. Her fingers curled against the fine cotton of his shirt. She could feel the heat of him through the fabric. The heat that melded with her own. Something shifted deep inside her. Something irrevocable. And overwhelming.

It was a kiss unlike any other she’d experienced. Those other few had been sloppy or hard, and always quick, because they’d simply left her cold. This was anything but cold.

A great wave of sensation welled within her until she literally rose with it—reaching up onto her tiptoes, blindly stretching her arms over his shoulders, locking her hands about his neck, holding him as close as he held her. She flattened her breasts against his hard chest—her full, heavy breasts, with their achingly tight nipples—and the friction against his unyielding strength was devastating.

Something else swirled—a new kind of hunger that pushed her to rock her hips against his. She moaned as he immediately held her with stronger hands. Every cell in her body sang as he braced himself to absorb the strain of her body and she writhed with her need to get closer still to his hard strength. He sealed his mouth to hers again and he held her hips to grind against her.

For the first time in her life, Kassie had only one word in her mind, chanting over and over.

More.

More. More. More...

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