The Devil You Know

Part I: Chapter 7

Rhysand's lips crashed against hers but despite the urgency the kiss was softer than Irelia was expecting. It was almost sweet at first, tender and tentative. But then his hand on her neck angled her head to deepen the kiss, the hunger growing.

Her hand slid up his chest and into his onyx hair. He groaned at the feeling, biting down on her bottom lip enough to make her gasp. His tongue smoothed over the bite mark, soothing her lip and asking for permission at the same time.

As soon as she granted him access, his tongue dived into her mouth–swirling around her own. And then Rhysand was devouring her, absolutely claiming every inch of her mouth. She couldn't help but moan softly at the feeling, at the fire burning its trail through her veins, at the sweet taste of wine still lingering on his lips.

His hands grabbed her waist, fingers digging into her soft skin as Rhysand leaned back and yanked her completely on his lap, her legs straddling him. A growl escaped his mouth, reverberating through her whole body as her breasts pressed against his chest—her thin dress doing nothing to hide the way her body was responding.

The ache between her legs became unbearable. The feeling of his hardened length underneath her had another moan slipping from her lips as she broke the kiss, breathless.

"Fuck, Lia," Rhysand panted, his hands slidding down to the exposed skin of her thigh. His violet eyes stared into hers with wicked desire.

Irelia's hand traveled to his chest, exploring the rippling muscles beneath his shirt as he began to press kisses against her jaw, her throat until he found that spot that had her gasping.

"Gods, I can't imagine what your father would think if he saw this," he growled against her throat. "His sweet daughter at the mercy of his enemy."

She wasn't entirely sure if he was just saying that for the crowd watching them, or for the guards who reported everything back to their Queen. But it definitely should not have caused that flame to erupt in her core again, but Gods, it was so wicked and sinful.

His fingers traveled up her thighs as she tossed her head back, granting him more access to her neck. Dangerous, his fingers were in dangerous territory. And the fae around them were watching, the scent of arousal flooding the space at the sight of the two of them.

"As much as I'd love to take you right here so all these fae know exactly who you belong to," Rhysand growled, trailing his nose against her throat until his mouth was next to her ear. "They don't deserve to hear the sounds I'm going to cause you to make, darling."

She was a puddle in his lap at his words, her core pulsing in need. She would do whatever he told her to in this moment, would follow his every command.

"Whatever you say, High Lord," she purred, grinding her hips against his, feeling him straining against his pants. He let out a husky groan at the feeling—his cock twitching in response.

"Call me that again and I won't be able to stop myself, Lia," Rhys warned.

"Good thing I don't want you to stop, High Lord," she said, looking up at him through her lashes.

"Fuck, we're leaving," Rhysand snarled, wrapping his hands around the back of her thighs and standing, lifting them both before letting her legs slide down to the ground. "Now."

There was no going back—that line was completely gone.

He wrapped her chain around his fist and stalked towards the stone doors; Irelia trailing behind him just as eager to get away from the prying eyes.

As soon as they passed through an empty corridor, Rhysand had her pressed against a wall—his hard body flush against hers. And then his mouth was on hers again, delivering a bruising kiss to her lips that she eagerly accepted with the same ferocity. One of his hands swiftly wrapped around to the back of her thigh and yanked her leg around his waist.