I opened my eyes to find a large, oval serving dish on a wheeled cart covered in a pristine white cloth—along with a note.
We fear we cannot share a meal with you without wanting to eat you, too. Here’s something to help you think while you recover from our devotion—a wee gift to stab your mother with the next time she dares to crash into your dreams. —TMK
Did TMK stand for the Mountain King? And what gift could he possibly be talking about?
My breath caught when I saw the rolled-up piece of supple leather lying on the far side of the tray.
Then I let that same breath go when I unrolled what turned out to be a sheath case—and found a set of five whittling knives with sturdy wooden handles.
Not just a standard carver, but also a hook knife for scooping and hollowing, a detail knife with a finer blade, a chip knife, and an angle-bladed gouge for texture and lettering work.
I couldn’t believe it.
The Mountain King had given me a gift. The most thoughtful, thoughtful gift I’d ever received in my life.
My eyes filled with tears.
Then my chest filled with terror unlike any I’d ever known, even when a bear reared up in front of my path to stop me from fleeing.
Because, though such a short time had passed, I could already feel myself falling.
And if the High King didn’t say yes before I hit the ground, this was going to hurt. Much worse than a broken ego.
It would shatter me.
November
The High Kingdid not say yes in November. Though the other two kings spent the entirety of the month training me to take his claim.
First with the Shadow King’s long fingers: two to start, in a version of the lotus position with me partially leaned back and Tadhg’s particular brand of low, dark instruction.
“That’s right, Strawberry, open up for your Shadow King. Relax into his hand. We don’t want you in any pain when the High King takes you.”
It was hard to imagine a scenario where sex could be painful with the Shadow King working those two long fingers inside me, the muscles flexing under his inked forearm as he moved his hand with smooth, deft strokes. There was a fleeting grin on his pale, moon god face.
Soon an embarrassing squelching sound was coming out of me, and that apparently was the cue for Tadhg to instruct Cian, “Add a finger, lad. Reward her for being so cute and responsive.”
The Shadow King withdrew both fingers and came back with all three, filling me up tighter than I expected.
I cried out a little, not sure what to do.
“You’re alright, Strawberry,” Tadhg assured me. “Keep on relaxing into it. That’s all you’re responsible for doing. At least for now.”
You know, being compliant wasn’t all that bad. My natural instinct to follow all instructions to the best of my ability earned me several hot, appreciative looks from the Shadow King and a lot of “good Strawberry” praise from the Mountain King over the next few minutes.
“Such a good Strawberry,” Tadhg murmured when the Shadow King’s strokes became smooth again, his three long fingers easily working in and out. “Look at you, adjusting and creaming all over the Shadow King’s hand.”
But the training didn’t stop there.
After a few days of working theLotus Finger Bang(Tadhg’s labeling, not mine) into our training exercises, the Mountain King replaced Cian, pulling me back onto his wide chest.
Maybe because of the initial survey, I loved this position. Tadhg’s voice in my ear, his thick length lodged against my back.
Like something trained, my core immediately started clenching, begging to be tended. But instead of the Shadow King’s tongue, I received Tadhg’s two middle fingers, pushed slowly into my canal.
Just two of his thick fingers stretched me out even wider than the Shadow King’s three.
“Unh!” I whimpered and dug my heels into the mattress, trying to find enough purchase to lift and get away from his hand.
