a glimpse of Chapter 43 of Her Highness, His Weakness, on ScrollStackMe
Her thighs.
I’d imagined them wrapped around me too many times. Had dreamed of kneeling between them, pressing kisses there, dragging my hands up their length and feeling her tremble.
She didn’t know how powerful she looked like this. Curvy, golden, sinful.
Every inch of her a masterpiece—made not for the throne, not for the kingdom, but for ruin.
For mine.
I gritted my teeth, adjusting my grip as I pushed open the doors to the royal bath.