Throne of the Fallen

His face dropped to her neck, hips grinding again. And again. His breath was hot on her skin, a bit ragged, too. God, she wanted him.

His grip tightened again, like he was holding himself back from a terrible fall and failing, his control slipping. He was coming undone right along with her.

Lips ghosted across her skin, the sensation haunting her senses. Maybe this was what it was like to die from pleasure, to exist outside a physical form, to only know boundless ecstasy.

And he wasn’t inside her yet.

“Camilla.”

Her name was a curse, a plea. You’ve destroyed me.

He’d done the same to her. Tearing down her walls, her happy little human life. False though it had been, it had been safety. Being near him, back in this realm, wasn’t safe at all.

It was dangerous and alluring and tempting and made her recall who she truly was.

He’d been right when he said she didn’t want Prince Charming.

She wanted the demon.

The ruthless lover who’d demand and command and force her body to submit to pleasure.

Camilla wasn’t sure how to go back to Waverly Green. How to shove herself neatly into that restrictive box again, simpering and pretending. Hiding her passion and lust for life and art and each dark game she liked to play. Pretending she did not desire as men there did.

Closing the distance now would send them hurtling over the edge. She moved so their lips brushed, breath panting in unison. His mouth hovered against hers.

“Camilla, fuck.”

The last tangled threads of their control were slipping, unknotting, releasing them from their restraints. She wondered who would move first, damn them both.

Knew it would be her.

“Destroy me.” Her voice didn’t sound like hers. It was rougher, lower, filled with sensual promises. “Kiss me.”

Envy lowered his head, closing the last breath of space between them, his lips the sweetest poison Camilla had ever tasted. If this was all they’d have, she’d make it count.

His erection strained against his trousers; it was cruel to keep it caged. She broke away from their kiss, working the laces on his trousers loose, needing to see and feel him without anything between them at last.

He drew back, gaze searching.

“You know my rule.”

Camilla nodded.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He dropped to one knee, propping her foot on his raised leg, fingering the hem of her gown. In the matter of seconds, he magicked her stockings away.

A devilish smile curved his mouth as she shuddered at the first brush of his hands on her skin. He’d only touched her ankle, yet the bolt of awareness that shot through her tingled everywhere.

She leaned against the large column, eyes trained on the prince kneeling before her, head bent over her as if in prayer.

Camilla reached down, running her fingers through his dark locks, tracing the curve of his jaw, then drawing his attention back to hers as she tilted his face up.

From his position, it might look like Envy had surrendered, was bowing to his princess, but Camilla knew that was nowhere near the truth. On the contrary, he was about to conquer.

And she’d gladly allow him to win this round, knowing she’d be the ultimate victor.

“Brace yourself, pet,” he growled. “I’m going to fucking devour you.”

FIFTY-TWO

CAMILLA DID AS he’d commanded, holding on to the column behind her as Envy slowly pushed her velvet skirts up, trailing openmouthed kisses as he traveled higher. His hands wrapped around her thighs, moving in slow, wonderful strokes, his thumbs getting closer to the apex of her body with each pass, revealing more and more of her tantalizing skin.

Desire pulsed through her and directly into him. He grew harder at the thought of finally coming with her, of bringing their flirtation to that aching finish line.

The payoff they’d both feel would be unmatched.

He thought about taking her to his bedchamber but couldn’t resist the way she looked so prim and proper with her back pressed against the marble column, foot balanced on his thigh. It was her gaze, though, that promised she was a sinner in the sheets.

Because she chose to be. Just like him.

Envy’s teeth grazed her skin, little goose bumps rising in his wake.

His own desire sparked low in his belly, his cock so hard it pressed against his stomach. He swore he could come just from tasting her. But he needed to delay that gratification. He pressed a chaste kiss just inside her thigh, right above her knee.

Camilla squirmed against the column, growing impatient.

He pushed her skirts to her waist, and she took them from him, watching as his hungry attention roved over her. Thighs, hips, the throbbing apex of her body, he wished to taste every delicacy she had on display and couldn’t decide where to start. She was wet, glistening. Aroused by the sight of him kneeling before her.

He flashed a knowing grin. “Sweet deviant. You like me bowing before you?”

She bit her lip, nodding, grip tightening involuntarily on her skirts.