I Became the Final Boss's Nameless Fiancée and I Have One Season to Stop Him novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: The Black Bed

He carried her up the black stairs with her legs around his waist and her face in his neck.

She kissed the ember-orange veins along his throat the whole way, and they lit under her mouth.

By the time he kicked the bedroom door shut he was breathing in short, ragged pulls.

The bed was enormous.

It had black silk sheets and a black iron frame carved with flames, and it had not been slept in for three nights.

He laid her in the middle of it.

"Take your coat off," Rina said.

He shrugged out of it.

His shirt followed, over his head, and she sat up on her elbows and looked.

He was built to frighten armies.

Wide shoulders, a chest she could have lain across, a flat stomach cut with old white scars, and ember veins running down his arms to the wrists.

The black ring sat over his breastbone.

She looked at it for one second and then deliberately looked away.

"Trousers," she said.

His hands went to the laces.

When the heavy fabric fell, her mouth went dry.

He was hard, flushed dark at the tip, and bigger than any man had a right to be.

It was long and thick, and the veins on it glowed the same faint orange as his throat, and it jutted up toward his stomach, heavy and heated.

"Oh," she said.

His face went stricken, and he began to reach for his coat.

"Don't you dare." She slid to the edge of the bed and looked up at him. "I'm just going to need a minute to think about it."

"Think about what?"

"How badly I want it."

The breath went out of him.

She took him in her hand.

He was hot, heavier than she expected, the skin silk over iron, and her fingers couldn't close around him.

She stroked once, slow, from root to tip.

He hissed and his head dropped back.

"Rina."

"Lie down."

He lay.

She straddled his thighs and wrapped both hands around his cock, and watched his stomach clench, and the muscles in his arms stand out as he gripped the sheets.

"You can touch me," she said. "You can touch me anywhere."

His hands came to her hips.

They were enormous, spanning her waist, and she felt the careful way he set them there.

She rose up on her knees, pulled the nightgown over her head and threw it away.

Then she took him in her hand again and lowered herself, just the tip, just at her entrance, and held there.

Wet heat against wet heat.

He groaned.

"Look," she told him. "Look at us."

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