The Alpha prince’s true mate (Complete)

The games of his world

*Linnie*

It's just as wonderful as I remembered, if not more so. His velvety tongue swirls over mine, his arm coming around to support my shoulders as he eases me down to the floor, one of his legs coming to rest between mine. The gown is lovely but the material is too thick and it has far too many petticoats. At this moment, I'm wishing that I was wearing my tavern frock. It's much less cumbersome. Not that Marsden seems to mind.

He is slowly, provocatively lapping at my mouth as though I'm a tasty treat and he can never have enough of me. His feral growl reverberates through his chest and into mine, inciting my desires. Not that much inciting is needed. I've wanted him for far too long. I feel like a tinderbox that needs little more than a stray ember to send the entire thing into a conflagration.

He drags his mouth along my throat and across my chin until he reaches the soft skin below my ear. “We should return to the ballroom,” he says.

“Not yet,” I whisper. “Please, not yet.”

Lifting his head, he holds my gaze. I love how tormented, how conflicted, he appears. He is a man of honor but also one who desires me.

“You tempt me, Linnie, you tempt me to do things I shouldn’t.”

“What do you want to do, Marsden?”

“Devour you. From head to toe.”

I smile slowly, “Then devour. I shan’t object.”

“You should.”

“But I shan’t.” I require neither reputation nor purity. I crave only memories of him that I can lock away in my heart to be viewed when we are no longer together.

“Merely a taste then.” He lowers his head to the valley between my breasts, dips his tongue between the aching orbs. Then he trails his lips over one swell, before journeying back to take the same path over the other. So gentle, so sweet, so forbidden.

My n*****s, more sensitive than usual, straining against the cloth, harden and pearl, longing for what they are being denied. He closes his mouth around one turgid peak, the velvet no barrier to his heat. I cry out, arching my hips, shifting, pressing the core of my being to his firm thigh, made strong by all the riding he does.

It isn’t enough. Although I've never been with a man before, I know there is more, that I should feel more. Tugging on his hair, I pull his head back, rise up and take his mouth. Pushing myself up, keeping my mouth latched to his, I roll him over until he is on his back and I can straddle him, my skirts and petticoats gathered around us, but no longer forming a barricade to what I want. Through his trousers, I can feel the hard length of him straining against my thin undergarments, seeking the dampest part of me.

“Dear Goddess, Linnie,” he groans. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing. I want you, Marsden. I want to feel you inside me.”

He groans again, “Dear Goddess.”

He slams his eyes closed, but I'm not having it. I tear at his cravat, untying the intricate knot, casting it aside until I can reach his neck and suckle on the soft skin, nipping at it with my teeth. “Unfasten me.”

“This is madness.”

I moan, “I’ll go mad if you don’t.”

He releases a short burst of laughter before threading his fingers through my hair and bringing my mouth back to his. So greedy, so determined, so skillful. He explores every valley, every rise. Taking me so deeply into the vortex of pleasure that I'm barely aware of the tug on my lacings. Then my gown and corset loosen. And I'm free. Free to breathe deeply, free to gasp, free to push myself up and shove the various layers of material down or move them aside, until my torso is bared.

His emerald eyes as he stares at me are more heated than the fire. He shoves himself up, bends his head, and swirls his tongue over my n****e before drawing it into his mouth, suckling hard, then gently before circling once again.

Closing my eyes, I drop my head back. The sensations eddying through me are incredible. They come in undulating waves along my limbs, from fingertips to toes. Glorious. Smoldering. Retreating before growing in intensity.

I unbutton his waistcoat and shirt. Placing my hands beneath the parted material, taking delight in his sharp intake of breath, I slowly caress his ribs, before moving the silk and linen aside to tease his n****e as he’d teased mine. “I knew you’d be beautiful,” I whisper.

“Not as beautiful as you.” He skims his hands up my back, his fingers dancing along my spine as he flattens his chest to my breasts and once again claims my mouth.

Gliding his hand down my side until he reaches my hips, he maneuvers me until I'm once again lying with my back on the floor. I'm keenly aware of his hand traveling up my leg, circling my knees.

He grins devilishly. “Not so knobby.” Holding my gaze, he takes his hand higher. “Tell me to stop.”

“No.”

I watch his throat muscles work as he swallows. His hand reaches the apex at my thighs, his fingers part the folds.

“You’re so damned wet.” He lowers his head. “And hot.” He kisses one corner of my mouth, then strokes his tongue over my lips as his fingers caress other lips. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth as his fingers enter me lower. His thumb circles the swollen nubbin, toying with it as pressure builds. He slides his mouth downward, taking my n****e between his teeth, tugging.

I whimper as sensations spiral. His fingers slide in and out, slowly, gently, his thumb swirls deliciously, pressing more firmly, insisting, insisting.

Everything within me explodes into a thousand stars, hurtling through the heavens. Before I can fully give in to the cry that bursts up from the very core of my being, he covers my mouth with his, absorbing my scream, holding me close as my body jerks and spasms with the force of the pleasure that ricochets through me.

Only when I still do he release his hold. Draped over his lap like some limp rag doll, panting, with my nerve endings still tingling, I stare up at him. His expression is so soft and tender that I wanted to weep. “My word.”

He grazes his fingers over my cheek, watching the movement. “The harm in a kiss. Sometimes it’s difficult to stop.”

“But you did stop.” Having seen horses and dogs mating, I understand that he hadn’t gone as far as he could have. “You didn’t see to your own pleasures.”

“I’m not going to take your virginity on the floor.”

“We could move to a sofa.”

Chuckling, he lowers his head and brushes his lips over mine. “Is it any wonder I adore you?”

Adore is not love but it is awfully close. “Does that mean we’re moving?”

Sadly, he shakes his head. “I won’t ruin you, Linnie. I care for you too much to do that.”

He won’t ruin me because he can’t offer me marriage. It hurt. Even as I understand my place in his world, it hurt. “I should return home now.”

He studies me for a long minute and I know that he understands more than my words. He understands that not only the magic of the night is ending, but that I am saying goodbye to our friendship. “The ball will go on for another couple of hours,” he says quietly, and I hear the disappointment. Things between us are changing. We are no longer children who can ignore our places in the world.

“Without me, I’m afraid. I have to help my father bake bread in the morning.” Every Christmas we distribute loaves among the less fortunate in the village.

“Will you at least give me one more dance?”

“I suppose that’s not too much to ask.”

But first, we have to set each other to rights. I don’t want to consider how personal it seems, how it makes me feel as though we are a couple taking care of each other. Even though he assists me and assures me that every hair is in place, I fear that people will be able to discern that I’m not quite as tidy as when I arrived.

He slips his hand into mine and I rather wish we hadn’t bothered to put our gloves back on. After unlocking and opening the door, he pokes his head into the hallway before announcing, “All clear.”

Once we have left the room, he says, “We’ll go back the way we came. Much less likely to be thought having participated in something untoward.”

“Why is it considered wrong when it feels so lovely?” I ask.

“It’s only wrong if it’s done out of wedlock.”

“Only if a she-wolf does it out of wedlock. You fellows can have it as often as you like whenever you like with whomever you like and no one criticizes you.”

“True, although I wouldn’t say that to just anyone. Such talk could create quite the scandal.”

“I think it might be fun to create scandal.”

“Easy enough to say until you’re the object of it.” I know he’s thinking about his father and how his actions brought scandal to the family. I’d been too young to understand when I was a child, but whispers of his death in a tavern maid’s bed still surfaces from time to time. Little wonder his mother despises me.

When we reach the back stairs that lead into the gallery, he stops, brings my hand to his lips. I feel the warmth of his kiss through my glove. “I’ll go up first. Count to twenty, then follow. If I determine our absence has been noted, I’ll go on ahead. If you don’t see me, carry on to the ballroom. Coming in separately should dispense any rumors.”

His plan makes me dizzy. So many games played in his world. Still, I nod and watch him go.