The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 179: Intoxicating ( Want) r18

SOREN

Her body responded to my voice before I even touched her again.

I felt it... the way fresh wetness gathered between her thighs, slick and hot against my fingers that were still barely teasing her entrance.

The way her inner walls clenched around nothing, eager, desperate for something to fill them. The way her breathing hitched with every word I spoke, as though my voice alone could bring her pleasure.

It was intoxicating.

More than that... it was confirmation of everything I’d suspected, everything I’d hoped for during the weeks we’d traveled together. That beneath her careful control and strategic distance, beneath all her talk about contracts and arrangements, she wanted this as much as I did.

Wanted me as much as I wanted her.

I smiled to myself, watching her face as sensation overwhelmed thought, as her carefully constructed walls crumbled under the simple act of being touched. The woman of my dreams... the one who’d haunted my thoughts since the moment I’d first heard tales of Solmire’s Fire Queen... was losing herself before me.

Exactly as I’d imagined. Better, even.

But she’d pissed me off first.

Not because she’d set boundaries... I understood the impulse to protect oneself, recognized the fear that came from caring too much. No, what angered me was what those boundaries revealed about how she saw me. What she thought I was capable of. What she believed I would eventually do.

She thought I was waiting for an excuse to discard her. That I’d chosen her for strategic reasons and would replace her the moment someone more convenient came along. That this—us—was temporary, disposable, something that would end the moment its usefulness expired.

If only she knew.

If only she understood that the feast tonight, the journey from Solmire, every carefully orchestrated moment... all of it had been designed with one singular purpose: to make her mine. Not temporarily. Not conditionally. Not until someone better came along.

Forever.

I’d known, from the moment I’d first seen her standing in her garden with the moonlight on her hair and fire in her eyes, that I would never want anyone else. Had recognized something in her that called to something in me... ice seeking fire, winter craving warmth, emptiness desperate to be filled.

And I’d decided, right then, that she would be mine.

Not because of politics or strategy or removing Vetra’s influence. Even though they were convenient excuses, useful justifications to offer when anyone questioned my choices.

The truth was far simpler and far more dangerous: I wanted her. Had wanted her from the beginning. Would continue wanting her long after reason suggested I should stop.

She could draw all the lines she wanted. Set all the boundaries she deemed necessary. Insist on professional distance and contractual arrangements.

I would cross every single one.

Would work my way into her heart slowly, patiently, the way ice worked its way into stone... finding cracks, exploiting weaknesses, expanding until the whole structure belonged to me.

And once I’d taken root there, once I’d embedded myself so deeply in her soul that removing me would tear her apart, I would never let her go.

Not even death would be allowed to snatch her from me.

Because losing her was not an option I was willing to accept.

My fingers, still barely brushing against her slick entrance, finally moved with purpose. I lifted them, soaked with her arousal, glistening in the bioluminescent light, and brought them to my mouth.

Her eyes widened as I sucked them clean, tasting her while maintaining eye contact, letting her watch as I savored every drop like it was the finest wine Nevareth’s cellars had to offer.

And gods, she tasted perfect.

"You taste like danger, Your Majesty," I said quietly, showing her my cleaned fingers. "Like heat and honey and something I’m going to become addicted to."

Her face flushed deeper, that beautiful combination of embarrassment and arousal that made her look almost vulnerable. And cute. She was trying so hard to maintain some dignity, to pretend this wasn’t affecting her as much as it clearly was.

"Just get this over with," she muttered, not quite meeting my eyes.

Oh?

I smiled. "We’re in no rush, Your Majesty. I’m going to take my time making you feel good. I want to learn exactly what makes you fall apart. What touches pulls those beautiful sounds from you. What words make you wet. What combination of both makes you forget your own name."

Before she could respond... before she could mount any kind of protest or attempt to regain control, I slipped two fingers inside her without warning.

The sound she made was worth every moment of restraint it had taken to get here.

Not quite a scream. Not quite a moan. Something in between that suggested I’d hit exactly the right spot, applied exactly the right pressure, given her exactly what her body had been begging for.

Her walls clamped down around my fingers immediately, squeezing with enough force that I groaned at the sensation, at the promise of how good she would feel wrapped around something considerably larger than my fingers.

But I didn’t rush.

Didn’t start pushing inside her with the urgency my own body was screaming for. Instead, I worked her entrance slowly, deliberately, feeling every flutter of her inner muscles, every involuntary clench as sensation built.

My thumb found her clit again, rubbing slow circles that made her entire body tense, made her back arch off the moss in a bow of pure pleasure.

She wriggled beneath me, and I pressed my weight down slightly to hold her in place, to force her to accept the pleasure I was giving rather than trying to escape it or control it.

"Stay still, Your Majesty," I murmured against her neck, pressing kisses there between words. "Let me make you feel good."

I plunged deeper, working my fingers knuckle-deep into her heat, and the way her body opened for me... welcomed me... made something possessive and primal roar to life in my chest.