Bride of the Emperor (The Prophecy of Sisters Book 4) by Hayley Faiman (the gingerbread man read aloud txt) 📗

of my ceremonial attire, something that I am supposed to wear daily, but I hate, so I don’t.

Dipping my chin to my brother, I take the gold-leafed crown in my hands. Turning to Drucilla, I watch as her eyes widen. Slowly, I place the crown on her head.

“Empress Drucilla Quirinus of Savona,” I announce.

Her eyes are wide, her lips parted in awe and I have to wonder if when I told her she was to be empress if she did not realize it was the truth. If she did not understand that she is the Empress of Savona, the woman who rules at my side.

Wrapping her hand in mine, I begin to walk out of the room. It is late, I am tired and we are to leave on the morrow, early. Before leaving my office, I turn to Marcellus and Brutus.

“We leave at first light,” I announce. “Bring the famulus.”

Shifting my gaze to the famulus, I look down my nose at her. “Pack your empress’ trunks,” I snap.

I don’t take Drucilla back to our room, instead I take her to the quarters that I’ve been staying in since her arrival. Once we walk over the threshold, I close the door behind me. My bride stands in front of me, her dress slit to her thigh, her wide violet gaze focused on me, and her chest rising and falling with her heavy breathing.

Taking a step toward her, I advance, not bothering to speak to her, knowing that she would not understand me anyway. Our words do not matter, just this moment between us, the way her body feels against my own.

The fact that she is now my empress—that is all that matters.

When I am directly in front of her, I reach out, sliding my fingertips up the slit in her gown, feeling her soft skin all the way up to her thigh. I hear her soft whispered exhale and watch as her eyes slowly close.

Dipping my chin, I touch my mouth to hers, the small move so sacred, only meant for her and nobody else—my empress.

“You will be the death of me, Tiberius,” she breathes, though I do not understand any of her words.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, I only grunt. “You are mine now, melculum. Mine for eternity.”

Chapter Twelve

DRUCILLA

Tiberius’ rough fingers on my skin, they feel amazing, even more so than they did earlier and I think it’s because I can finally see him—all of him. I am still in awe of how attractive that I find him, even with the huge scars running across his handsome face. He’s not perfect at all, and yet, my body aches for him.

He slips his hand from my hip to between my legs and I let my head fall back with a sigh as soon as his fingers glide through my folds. His thumb quickly finds my clit and he begins to torture me deliciously.

Reaching down between us, I shift his skirt up and find his hard length. Slowly, I stroke him as he does me, reading him just as he is doing for me. He clenches his jaw, then takes a step back, just when we’re both close. I was kind of hoping for a little fun this way before we got to business, but it seems my new husband only wants business.

Climbing onto the bed, I reach for my gown and start to tug it up, when he growls loudly and shakes his head. My eyes wide as my lips part.

The Emperor wants to fuck his Empress in her ceremonial gown.

Nice.

Biting the corner of my lip, I watch as he removes his clothes and I have to admit, he looks a hell of a lot better naked than he does clothed. His chest is fantastic, he’s broad and muscular, he is downright beautiful.

He closes the distance between us, his eyes darkening with each step that he takes. He arrives at the side of the bed and I want nothing more than to kiss down his chest and take him in my mouth. I don’t, remembering the couple of times I tried and he seemed to get angry and didn’t let me.

His hands span my waist and I feel so incredibly dainty with this gigantic man. My breath hitches when his palms slide down my ass, gripping me before his fingers wrap around the backs of my thighs and he flips me onto my back.

Without a moment to even breathe, to realize what’s happening, he’s buried deep inside of me, to the root. His face is tipped down as he stands at the side of the bed. Slowly, he bends slightly, his palms planting next to my head, his arms straight as he begins to move.

He doesn’t move slowly. He fucks me. There is no other word for the action in this moment. It is hard thrust after hard thrust and I don’t mind. He feels fantastic and with each thrust, he grinds down just enough that it brings me higher and higher toward my release.

I’m panting, on edge, and ready to scream and cry—to beg for an end to my aching misery when I finally feel his thumb between us.

My blood is boiling, my breathing coming out in hard pants, my body is practically humming with need. I have never felt like this before, not even the last few times that I was with him. This is bigger, this is more, this is unbearable.

Tears fill my eyes, they begin to flow at the same time the buzzing grows stronger. Reaching up, I wrap my fingers around his biceps and dig my nails into his skin. He grunts, his thrusts unchanging, they are hard and perfect.

When I come, it doesn’t just take over my body, it takes over my entire being. I cry out, my body trembling and shaking, my muscles tightening everywhere. Tiberius thrusts a few more times before he lets out a loud grunt and buries himself deep inside of me, his cock twitching with his own