ROSETTE’S POV
He was angry. Furious. And he channeled every ounce of it into his mouth.
This wasn’t a man who cared about permission. About hesitation. About any of the polite negotiations that civilized people engaged in before doing what he was about to do.
He dropped to his knees on the marble floor like a man going to worship at an altar, and the sight of the Lycan King kneeling between my thighs in his thousand-dollar tuxedo should have been absurd.
It wasn’t.
It was the single most erotic thing I had ever witnessed in my twenty-three years of existence.
This man, this ancient, terrifying, impossibly beautiful creature who commanded armies and toppled empires, was on his knees for me.
Between my legs. Looking up at my exposed cunt like it was a throne he intended to conquer.
H
