He looked his fill, her beautiful skin made even more golden by the lamp in the carriage. “You are perfect.” He skimmed up her inner thigh to graze her sex, the heart of her hidden by fine jet curls, making her whimper and her eyes grow hooded. “Your skin is like the smoothest silk, and here, you’re so damp, so ready for me.”

The scent of her was maddening. Intoxicating. Rhystan reached around to grasp her rounded hips with both hands, shifted her toward the end of the bench, and lowered his head. He couldn’t wait a second more before sating his deepest desire. He licked up her entire length, his instant groan and her moan merging in the silence.

His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as the honeyed silk of her curled over his tongue. One taste wasn’t enough. Nowhere near enough. Growling his pleasure, he clutched at her hips as she knotted her fingers in his hair, and he settled on the sweet bud that made her writhe against him.

Rhystan glanced up, the sight of her on the edge of coming undone making him as hard as stone. Her face was flushed with dark color, her hooded eyes fastened on him and what he was doing. Fascination burned with the lust in her gaze, its brownish-green depths almost gold with desire.

“Shall I continue?” he whispered with another wicked lick.

Her cheeks bloomed, her eyes fluttering shut, her thick black lashes fanning her cheekbones. Her nod was jerky, even as her fisted fingers yanked him closer. Grinning, he continued his onslaught, his own body responding to her soft moans and sighs and threatening to tear through the fall of his trousers.

“Don’t stop, please.”

He didn’t plan to, not until her beautiful body shattered on his tongue. The taste of her was like tangy, salted ocean breezes and redolent tropical nights spent in a hammock. Sweet with a hint of fire. Here was his mistress. His shrine.

His queen.

Settling himself between her legs, he lapped and sucked and drank from her delicious body until she was writhing beneath him, reveling in the soft cries leaving her lips that made him mad with desire. Rhystan slid a thick finger into her wet passage, watching as she shuddered with satisfaction, eyes popping wide with surprise.

When her legs started to tremble with tension, he redoubled his efforts, alternating long drags of his tongue with shorter licks at the apex of her sex. Inside her, he curled his finger toward him, and she cried out.

“Rhystan,” she whispered.

One decadent swipe, and then she was there, hurtling over the edge into the paroxysm. She came like the evening tide, her body going still and then shuddering beneath him in small, intense waves, bursting on his tongue like the sweetest of fruit.