Throne of the Fallen

“Good. Praying at the altar of your body is one of the only ways to get a sinner like me on my knees. I promise I’m going to worship every inch of you. Starting with this incredible, wet pussy.”

Her silver gaze shimmered with lust. He’d noticed it before but was now certain she loved it when he used dirty language. It turned her on. The proof was there in the way she squeezed her thighs together, her breath coming in short bursts.

Lucky for them both, Envy could be a filthy fucking bastard.

He pressed another kiss above her knee, then higher up the inside of her thigh.

Chaste, sweet brushes of his lips that he sensed made her hunger for more. His hands caressed everywhere his lips had touched, then began their own independent exploration, sending shivers of pleasure through her.

Envy’s gaze darkened when he finally reached the slick folds of her sex.

The first stroke wrenched a foul curse from her, her back arching off the column as if she’d been struck by a lightning bolt even though it was soft, languorous. Like slowly licking cream off a dessert. The second stroke was firmer, parting her folds as his tongue dipped inside.

She tangled her hands in his hair, holding him right where she wanted him.

He rewarded her with another slow swirl.

“You taste like sin, Camilla.”

His thumb followed the path his tongue had just taken, pressing against a bundle of nerves that made her push herself onto him, needing him deeper.

She was drenched and he’d only just begun.

“I absolutely fucking love it.” He lowered his mouth to her again, alternating between letting her ride his fingers and replacing them with his tongue.

Envy opened his senses so he knew exactly what she needed, and when.

“Oh…,” she moaned, eyes rolling back.

He traced the seam of her body, following every drop of wetness, growling his own need against her sex.

“Oh, God,” she panted. “Don’t stop.”

He was not God, but he would damn well make her think he was a god before the night was over.

He hummed against her, noting that the vibration of his voice, the depth of it, pushed her toward that edge. Her breath turned short, ragged—her orgasm was close. He repeated the sound, then slid two fingers inside, stretching her.

Envy rocked back on his heels, watching as she began to pant.

Riveted, he slowed to massage her gently, sliding his fingers across her slick folds, hitting that secret bundle, then drawing back before she climaxed.

“No more playing,” Camilla warned.

He grinned as she took over, rolling her hips, seeking release.

Still thrusting deep with his fingers, he began kissing her legs, her stomach, nipping and sucking, the friction so glorious neither one of them seemed capable of catching their breath.

“I’m close,” she panted. So was he.

When he lowered his mouth to her sex, her orgasm crashed through her.

Camilla gripped his hair, holding him against her, her body spasming with each wave of pleasure that broke.

His strokes slowed, lapping up each drop of her desire until her breathing evened and she floated back into her body.

Envy pressed one last kiss to her, then flicked his attention to hers.

“That was…” She bit her lower lip, seemingly without words. Except one. Written clearly across her face. More. “I need you inside me.”

He needed to be inside her, too.

He’d murder anyone who interrupted them now.

She gently tugged his hair, beckoning him to stand. As he came to his feet, his body sparked with energy, with power. He was charged in ways he couldn’t recall ever feeling before, her orgasm still fresh on his tongue, inciting him to crave more.

Camilla dragged his shirt up and over his head, then went at the laces on his trousers again, this time undeterred from her mission.

He gave her a lazy smile when she pulled his cock free. She inhaled sharply, then gave him an almost shy look as he kicked his trousers off.

“You’re magnificent.”

Huge. Was what she didn’t say, but Envy was well aware of other lovers’ reactions to it. Her expression shifted to concern, then determination. Even if he hadn’t been reading her emotions, he’d know exactly what she was thinking. She had no idea how it would fit. Nervous or not, she was very willing to try.

“Lie down,” she commanded him.

Gods’ bones. He adored it when she ordered him around.

Envy led her back toward his throne, then stretched his long body out on the hunter-green runner at the bottom of the dais, arms folded behind his head, lips quirked. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to take a lover, but neither one of them seemed concerned by the hard floor.

Camilla gently knelt, spreading her skirts around her, and then reached over, tracing his length with a graceful finger.

“Nervous?” he asked, grinning wider.

“Not at all.”

He released a low chuckle, sensing her dishonesty.

She moved to straddle him, just below his knees, studying his erection. The blunt head twitched each time she touched it, forcing him to bite his own lip.