Page 24 of The Midnight King
“I can see it in your eyes. Caution, resistance, and suppressed rage.” His hand runs along my arm, up to my bare shoulder. “You are beautiful, and angry, and trapped.”
My jaw tightens. I’m not used to being read like this, and it makes me feel both naked and furious.
He watches me keenly. “You want to strike me for speaking to you so openly.”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“Do it.” He takes my hand and places it on his cheek. I like the graze of his scruff against my palm.
Instead of striking him, I trace the sharp corner of his jaw, then the straight line of bone down to his square chin. “How are you so fucking pretty?” I whisper.
“How are you so fucking addictive?” he replies, low and intense. “I haven’t been able to think about anything except your body since you ran away from me last night. I spent the nightimagining myself chasing you into the front hall, throwing you down on the floor, and fucking you in front of all the guests.”
“What’s stopping you now?”
It’s an impulsive question, and a foolish one because I should be asking him about the vault. And yet I’m already desperately aroused, slippery wetness seeping between my legs. Being so deeply perceived by him has made me crave him twice as much as I did last night.
“Most of the women I sleep with are interested in my power and position,” he says.
“Not me,” I reply. “I could care less about thrones and crowns. What I want is far simpler. I want to choose what happens to me, to my body.” I move closer, my fingers trailing down the front of his shirt, my voice low and wicked. “Right now, I choose this. I choose you. Take me with gentleness or with violence. Choke me with your cock, spill your seed inside me. Do everything and anything you like, only don’t make me wait, because time is short, and I can’t bear it.”
He’s breathing hard, his chest surging against my palm. “On your knees then.”
I sink down obediently while he unbuckles his belt.
“Wrists together,” he says, and I hold my hands up for him while he wraps the belt around my wrists and secures it tight.
He takes out his cock, its thick length jutting from between his thighs while he positions my bound hands behind my head. He grips the belt that binds them, using it for leverage. “Open your mouth.”
When I obey, he feeds his cock into the heat of my mouth.
I’ve never tasted cock before. His is thick, smooth, warm, and faintly salty. It smells clean and fresh, not sour or unclean as I feared it might.
With my hands bound by his belt and trapped behind my head, under the force of his grip, I’m not in control of this. And yet I don’t feel trapped, because Ichoseto yield the control tohim. I savor the wickedness of this act—I delight in it as he guides me forward on his cock and teaches me the rhythm he prefers.
“Relax your throat,” he advises when I start to gag. He waits until the urge has passed and I move to take him deeper again. “Swirl that precious little tongue around my cock while I’m in your mouth. Let your lower teeth graze the underside, right beneath the head—fuck, yes. Right there. Shit.” He groans as I begin to play with him, my teeth and tongue tantalizing his length.
“Your mouth is almost as good as your pussy,” he says raggedly. “I’m going to move you faster, if you can take it.”
I nod, drooling a little around his girth. He holds my wrists and uses them to move my head back and forth at a quick pace, bumping the back of my throat with every thrust.
My eyes are watering. I force my throat to relax, and I give myself over to the raw, primal joy of being used forcefully by this man, this King. I don’t care how many other women have done this for him. Right now, he likes me. Wantsme. No one else.
Part of me wishes that my stepmother could see me now, choking on the King’s cock.
“Such a good fucking girl,” he groans, pumping faster… and then he gasps out, “Fuck, I’m going to come.”
But instead of pushing deeper, he pulls himself out of my mouth and finishes with a firm stroke of his hand, spurting his release all over my breasts. Some of the warm cum lands on my skin, and the rest sprinkles the bodice of the golden gown.
“Your dress,” he pants regretfully.
“It’s alright. I don’t mind.”
He takes out a handkerchief and wipes some of his release off the fabric. Then he helps me to my feet and plants my back against a bookshelf, holding my bound wrists above my head with his right hand while his left hand pushes down the top ofmy dress, exposing my breasts. He ducks his head and licks his own cum off my skin with slow, wet strokes.
I would never have imagined a man doing such a thing, but it’s incredibly erotic. My panties are soaking wet.
“Oh my gods,” I whisper, shivering deliciously with each pass of his warm tongue. Every inhale makes my breasts rise, the nipples peaked tight for him. He grasps one breast in his hand, squeezing it lightly as he licks his release off me.