Thristle's deep amethyst eyes, wide and sparkling, met his. A mischievous smirk played on her lips, her long canines peeking from her mouth. She was already in motion.
"My King, you are so unfair," she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
Her lips found his, a hungry, immediate press.
She kissed him deeply, her tongue plunging inside, exploring with playful aggression. "Making us wait, making us guess."
He broke the kiss, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Cut me some slack, Thristle. I am just a poor man."
She giggled, a low, throaty sound that vibrated against his lips. "A poor man who continues even after filling his many queens." Her eyes narrowed playfully. "You have endless energy."
"Oh, do I?" he murmured, his voice dropping to a low growl. His hands moved to the silk of her gown.
"Then perhaps we should put that energy to better use." He tugged the fabric, his intent clear. "Now, silence that mouth and shed those layers."
