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

Chapter 822 Chapter 822: Tears fell again-tears of immense joy and disbelief. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ƒind ηøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Am I truly that beautiful to him? His reverence for her body, his obsession. He wants to live inside me. "It's okay," he growled against her throat. "Look at me all you want, my star. My shields are down. See everything. Words have never been my strength, but I've always wanted to show you how I see you. What you mean to me. What I feel for you." His teeth scraped against her skin.

"Look at me all you want, and bare yourself to me like always. Only this time... do it knowing how addictive you are to me." The orgasm hit her like a storm. She collapsed in his arms, breaking with a ragged cry. "Yes," he hissed, his thrusts deeper and more savage. "Let me fall apart knowing that your presence, your pleasure, your body... is my moon festival." His burning lips moved over her skin. "Squeeze my cock knowing how much I worship every inch of it inside you." Her screams rose, wild and sharp, her face flushing deep red.

"Fuck, you're drenching me, Emeriel," he groaned through clenched teeth. "Your sweet little pussy is giving me a damn bath. You're one hell of a sexy sea nymph." He loved the filthy word. His prim little princess-that was her truth. Daemonikai had always known it, but now he could feel every sinful emotion her dirty talk stirred within her. And by the gods, it was adorable. The way her shyness and her wickedness intertwined. The way her pleasure blossomed beneath his words. He kept a hard rhythm, drawing out her climax, prolonging it until she... Could barely breathe.

Then his fangs dropped, sinking into place. She moaned, and her emotions exploded through their bond. Fuck, fuck! Shit! No wonder she passed out so easily when he took her like this. It was overwhelming. She was completely overloaded. Daemonikai had always known she was sensitive, but feeling it firsthand was something entirely different. No wonder she screamed constantly and was prone to fainting. She was hypersensitive-even to the lightest touch. He felt humbled, lucky, and overwhelmingly proud. How many like her existed in this world? Only one. And she was his. Mine.

He needed to suppress those primal, possessive thoughts. They did nothing for his logical mind and only stirred his instincts out of control. His rational side knew he had worn her out. He was insatiable, and she was seven months pregnant. He should restrain himself-be gentle, careful, less beastly. But his instincts wanted more. To keep going. He had missed her. These unbearable months away from her should go down in history as a form of torture. And now, being inside her again, all Daemonikai wanted was to stay there. Fuck. Was that too much to ask? . . .