That Prince Is A Girl: The Vicious King’s Slave Mate Novel

Chapter 262: Soft, nearly inaudible groans came from him, vibrating against her breast. She was dripping, making a mess in her undergarment.

King Daemonikai pulled back, taking her right breast into his mouth. His fingers poked, pinched, and prodded the left one.

"It feels… it feels," she cried out, writhing. Sensation coursed through her, heightening with every hard tug of his mouth.

He pulled back, his eyes dark with lust. "Offer them to me." "I don't…" Emeriel faltered.

"Touch them. Hold them out," he commanded softly, his voice filled with hunger.

A thrill of excitement shot through her. With light, shy caresses, she touched her own breasts-something she had never done with such intent before. They had always been wrapped up and hidden away.

Now, under the weight of his gaze following her every move, she ran her hands across her breasts. Fueled by her deep-seated desire to please him, she cupped them, presenting her bosoms to him as if they were sacred offerings to the gods.

Her movements were innocent and hesitant, her face painted with a deep blush that cascaded down to her neck.

"Here," she whispered, her eyes downcast. "For you, Your Grace."

The king snarled, attacking them.

His mouth worked ardently-licking, laving, and sucking-each motion a rite of devotion.

Emeriel sobbed as he alternated his attentions between her breasts, lavishing them with a force that left her crying out breathlessly.

As pleasure pulsed through her veins like a powerful current, tension spiraled within her. Her own breaths were thunderously loud in her ears as her fingers clamped onto his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh. In a torrent of cries and shudders, she fell over the edge, her legs buckling beneath her. But his strong hands were there, lifting and supporting her weight.

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"Such a good girl," he praised.

With an obscene pop, he released her red, abused nipples before neatly rearranging her clothing with hurried, graceful movements, restoring her modesty. "Such a good girl," he praised again.

Satisfaction surged within her, a warm, heady feeling that made her glow.

But no sooner had he secured her tender breasts back under her garments than his head snapped up, alert. His ears twitched, attuned to a sound only he could perceive.

"Herod is on his way."

Amidst the silence of the forest, save for Emeriel's ragged breaths and the distant hooting of owls, the king gently lowered her to the base of the tree, his face mere inches from hers.

"I must be on my way," King Daemonikai said, his eyes holding a tenderness she had never seen before. "This was not my intention when I sought you out for your scent, young princess. Forgive me."

"I am yours."

"There is nothing to forgive." Emeriel drank in the sight of him. She could gaze into his eyes forever. "Are you sleeping better now?"

He shook his head, his expression turning grim. "I do not sleep. But some hells are preferable to others." It was the same cryptic answer he had given her in the garden. A pang of sadness pierced her heart.

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