Page 17 of The Midnight King
He’s poised at my entrance. I can feel the head of his cock there, blunt and warm, nosing in a little. But he pulls back, silver eyes keen with perception. “You’re afraid.”
I shake my head.
“Don’t deny it. I can smell your fear.”
I quirk an eyebrow at him, and he chuckles. “Just an expression. I’ve been in this role for a long time, and I know when someone is afraid. As much as I want to plunge into thatsweet, soaked little cunt and lose myself inside you, I will stop if you say the word. I won’t touch you again.”
His words are gratifying, and somehow they’re just what I needed to hear. “I’m not afraid ofyou. Just ofthis, a little.”
“Of this… because you haven’t done this before?” he asks.
I nod. “But I want to. I need it.” My pussy is quivering, sensitized, aching for fullness. “Please—take me. But gently, until I ask for more.”
“Like this?” He dips inside me a little, then withdraws. His hand splays on my lower stomach, his thumb tracing lazy circles over and around my clit.
“More,” I whisper.
He pokes his cock back through my entrance, then pulls out. Again and again he dips inside me, a little deeper each time, while his thumb massages my clit. The slippery sensation of his thick cock moving in and out, taunting me, is quickly becoming too much to bear.
“More,” I say in a sharp whisper, and he eases deeper with infuriating slowness.
Suddenly there’s a stretching sensation, and I tense. He pauses, pinching my clit lightly and then rubbing his hand across it with a rapid rhythm that sends me into an instant frenzy.
“Oh gods,” I whisper frantically. “Oh yes—more, please, more!”
He pushes in deeper, a wolfish grin on his face. But the moment he’s fully seated inside me, his expression changes from teasing mischief to reverent bliss. “You have such a perfect little cunt,” he breathes. “I’ve never felt one this good. Fuck…” He stares down at where we’re joined, color flushing his cheeks, his face awash with wonder.
I won’t lie—it’s deeply gratifying to have a King say you’re the best he’s ever had. Especially when he starts fucking you like he’s gone mad, like he’s possessed, like you’re all he has ever wanted and all he needs.
That’s how the King takes me. I feared it might hurt, but after that initial burst of pain, it doesn’t. He’s braced over me, his silver hair swaying, his handsome face taut with impending pleasure, his toned body flexing as he fucks me. Every thrust feels like a link broken in the chains that bind my soul, and every grunt of ecstasy from him is music. Every shift of my body beneath the force of his passion is my door to freedom being pushed open wider.
This is defiance. This is liberty. This is hope. And I come for the King again, with the thrill of freedom blazing through my limbs like a meteor shower.
“That’s a good fucking girl, coming for your King,” he says hoarsely. “Do you want me to come inside you?”
The wickedness of it thrills me—the idea that the ruler of this kingdom is going to spend himself deep in my body, that I’ll return to Eisling House with his cum inside my womb, and my stepmother will never know.
“There are herbs I can take later,” I tell him. “Yes, you can come inside me. Please come inside me.”
He comes with a heavy groan, thrusting deep, pumping every bit of his release into my pussy. I hold him while he finishes, the two of us wreathed together by pleasure and passion.
After a moment, his breathing slows and his eyes open. He doesn’t kiss me, but his gaze locks with mine, and we stare at each other, panting. A slow smile spreads over my face, and he grins back.
And then the library clock strikes the hour.
But which hour? Panic flares through my chest as I realize I haven’t been tracking time like I should.
“What time is it?” I gasp.
The King glances over his shoulder. “Midnight.”
“Oh shit.” I separate myself from him and tumble off the sofa. One of my slippers came off while we were fucking, but Ifind it and slip my foot inside. I have no idea where my panties are. They’re the least of my worries. “I have to go. Thank you for… Thank you.”
“Wait!” He’s tucking himself in, fastening his pants. “You haven’t told me your name, or where I can find you.”
Warmth spreads through my heart at the thought that he wants to see me again. I’m almost out the door of the library, but I call back, “I’ll try to meet you here tomorrow!”
Without waiting for his reply, I run.