Standing, they’re both of a height, towering over me, and the thought of being pressed between them makes me nearly choke and swallow a decadent whimper. If they don’t get their shit together, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.
Maybe Ishould.
Deliberately, I block the bond, feeling Darrius’s flicker of surprise. I watch in my peripheral vision as my magic winds around their throats, sending other ribbons to bind their arms behind their backs and dragging them back into their seats. Coils wrap around their wide chests and finally slide over their mouths. Roshan’s eyes are wide with lust, while Darrius’s promise a host of retribution—the wickedest kind.
“I’m in charge now,” I say. “You speak when spoken to, and you do not move unless I command it. No magical shadows, either. You do not question your queen. Do you consent? If you don’t, I will not fault you for it. We can pretend this never happened. But I need this, and I need both of you to cooperate.” When they nod in turn, I remove the magical gags from their lips. “Words, please.”
“Yes,” the king of Oryndhr says huskily. “Anything, always.”
The king of Everlea’s gaze flashes black to gold and back again. “As you wish, pátni,” he rasps.
Gratified, I put the magical muzzles back in place and take my seat. With a single thought, my dress vanishes into embers, leaving me in the lacy, barely there undergarments I wore for this purpose.
Well, perhaps not for thisexactpurpose.
Nostrils flaring, Darrius strains against his bonds, tattoos roiling on his skin, though obediently stays put. Excitement lights Roshan’s eyes, his pulse pounding erratically at his neck. Their gazes are fastened on me—one burning gold-brown starburst that promises to set me ablaze, and one bottomless obsidian abyss that vows to devour me whole.
I shake with arousal, wetness seeping between my thighs.
Gods, I’mferalfor them.
I throw my head back and dance my fingertips down the column of my neck, walking them downward until they land between my breasts. I magic away the covering, gasping as the cool air pebbles my nipples. I feel their combined stares, sense their desire, bask in their shortened breaths, but I don’t acknowledge them. With both hands, I pluck at the taut peaks as my arousal starts to builds.
Stars, I never thought being watched would be so provocative.
But having these two powerful kings at my mercy, mesmerized by me, is a heady feeling.
Keeping my left hand on my breast, my right wanders down the flat of my stomach to the embroidered edge of my undergarment. A masculine groan from one end of the table echoes a grunt from the other. I have no idea who made which sound, and I don’t care. I’m much too focused on the swollen,soakedpart of me that is desperate to be stroked.
Suddenly, without warning, the table is gone and my legs are gently spread over the arms of my chair. I gasp at the new position, and then stare at Darrius, whose expression is savage with lust.
“That’s cheating,” I tell him, fingers halting and lifting his gag.
“You said we couldn’t move,” he rumbles. “I did not. The table moved. It was blocking my view.”
I can’t fault him, considering how I wanted to demolish the table in the war room earlier. “I’ll concede this once, but only if you are both in agreement. Otherwise, this stops.”
I might die if it does stop, but rules are rules. A queen can’t be seen as a rule-breaking pushover because she craves an orgasm.
“I agree it is a technicality,” Roshan rasps out. “Removal of an obstruction.”
“Very well,” I say, hiding my smile. “But no more interference.”
I continue my teasing movements, inching over the damp lace to the gusset, where the fabric is drenched. With one hand, I slip the seam to the side, exposing myself, my fingertip slowly dragging down the center. I whimper as I slip through the silken wetness, my spine arching in place as sensation barrels through me.
“What shall I do?” I ask, removing the bindings from their mouths. “Tell me.”
“Circle that pretty clit,” Darrius says immediately. I do as he says and moan, almost as if it’s his hand instead of mine.
“Fuck,” Roshan groans. “Now slip a finger inside you. Tell me, how does it feel?”
I do as he says, writhing against the intrusion. “Hot, wet, like velvet.”
“Add another.” The harsh command is from Darrius. “If you’re going to take our cocks later, you need to prepare yourself.”
Our. Cocks.The gods save me... ornot.
I groan as my fingers obey and split to stretch me. Roshan, not to be outdone, lets out an approving sound. “Now curl your fingers and find that spot, the one that drives you crazy. That’s it,” he says when I whine and writhe. “Imagine us filling you in turn and hitting that place inside you with every stroke.”
