Throne of the Fallen

He admired her nude form, all tantalizing golden skin, hard nipples, and soft curves. She’d taken to wearing lingerie only sometimes now, keeping him constantly guessing what was beneath her clothes. Skin or lace. He liked it all.

Envy jerked his chin toward the mattress and Camilla stepped back, stopping when the backs of her legs brushed against it.

He dipped a finger into the silver paint, then traced the swell of her breast, curled around her peaked nipple, then drew a line down to her navel.

Camilla’s skin pebbled from the cool liquid paint, her breathing turning erratic.

He swirled another finger into a lighter silver paint, then drew his hands up the sides of her thighs. Camilla watched him with a hungry, silent stare. She wanted him to use her body as a canvas. Had wanted it for quite some time. Tonight, they’d both get their wish.

He considered the green paint, then dipped both hands into the one that matched his eyes best. His palms dripped with it, and Camilla let out a little gasp when he clapped both hands to her plush bottom, leaving his mark right where he wanted.

“Sit down, love.”

Camilla’s gaze sparkled. She did as he asked, making sure to slide her body across the canvas he’d laid out on the bed.

He stripped, enjoying the way her pulse ticked faster with each layer he slowly removed. When he kicked his trousers off and his length sprang free, she wet her lips.

She sat up, like she was about to lick him from tip to root, then stuck her hands deep into the silver paint. She tossed a handful of liquid silver at him, laughing as it dripped down his chest, splattering his erection.

“That, my love,” Envy purred, “means war.”

He unleashed his wings, knowing how much she liked them.

Camilla traced the emerald plumage, her touch gentle, stimulating. He almost forgot his plan. Just as his brilliant wife-to-be had plotted. He grabbed a bucket and tossed its contents at her, loving the squeal of delight as she shrieked and jumped back.

She tossed a bucket of hunter-green paint at him, laughing as he swore.

Soon they were both covered in paint, panting and rolling across the canvas. His wings became a mess of wild color.

“Fuck me, now,” she demanded at last, breathless.

“With pleasure.”

He slammed inside her, and they both cursed.

Camilla’s walls clenched around him, milking him as he thrust in and out, the paint erotic as it glided over their skin, their love creating its own masterpiece. Camilla’s nails dug into his shoulders, right between his wings.

She tugged him closer, wrapped her legs around him.

He fucked her hard, their bodies smearing the paint all over in wild strokes.

He slipped a hand between them, playing with her clit until she panted.

They both roared as they came, bucking until each last ounce of pleasure had rocked through them. He knew, without a doubt, that the work below them would be the most prized painting in his collection.

They lay entwined for several long minutes; then Camilla climbed on top of him.

“More.”

He admired her as she rolled her hips, taking him slow and deep as she set the pace. Then he flipped her over, shot them out through the window, then flew up until they were soaring and made love to her among the stars.

At some point, they returned to the studio, rolled around in the paint some more. Camilla demanded he climb on top of her, extend his wings so she could hoist her legs up over them. He did as his princess commanded. Holding her legs straight up, bracing them first against his shoulders, pumping into her hard and fast, their skin clapping in pleasure.

Later, once they’d finally managed to drag themselves away from their art, he had the piece framed. He grinned at Camilla, splattered from head to toe and every delicious crevice in between in a rainbow of colors.

“Where should we hang this?”

She pretended to think for all of one moment.

“I know just the place, Your Highness.”

She led him to their bedchamber, then glanced up at the ceiling, brows raised expectantly.

He tossed his head back and laughed.

Apparently, his legendary art was being retired.

Envy couldn’t imagine a more perfect replacement.

Before he could offer any sort of retort, Camilla drew his mouth to hers and kissed him.

“I love you,” she whispered as she moved back, gaze searching.

He stared at her, heart pounding. Truth slammed into him.

And for once, he didn’t lie in return.

“I love you, too.”

Soon, they were tangled up in his sheets—dried paint flaking off onto the hunter-green silk—and Envy found he didn’t care about anything but the female he’d happily break all his rules for, from now until forever fucking more.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First, a huge thank-you to my readers. (Both old and new alike!)