I can’t.
Fisting my hair, he pulls me to his shoulder instead. “Bite me,” he demands. “Fight it back.”
I bite him hard. He hisses as he holds me tighter. I clench my thighs and ball my fists. My orgasm teeters on the edge of release. Sinking my teeth in until I draw blood, even through his shirt, I whimper and twist.
But I fight it all back like the good little slut I am.
Thirty-Seven
A good little slut only comes when allowed.
So does that mean Jace is also a good little slut?
- Arienna
Fuck whoever invented the concept of time. Fuck the gods for making the sun. Fuck the inventor of the calender. The clock. The godsdamn hourglass. Fuck whoever decided the next day starts atmidnightinstead of at sunset.
Though thank you to whoever decided it shouldn’t start at sunrise. Because dear gods, I cannot make it that long.
All through dinner, I sat on his lap as he fed me each bite. He didn’t finger me. Didn’t caress me. But he didn’t need to. His mere presence has been driving me mad.
Then he took off his shirt when we returned to our game of throwing knives. Holding my gaze, he undid it one button at a time. I, of course, missed the board every single round after that. I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the utter need vibrating in every part of me.
And all that time Jace and Deirdre were going at it like rabbits. He took her from the back, the front, on the counter, on the floor, against the wall, in the air. She sucked him off. He cut her and himself. She licked up blood everywhere but those bright tattoos. He never cut them either. Whatever significance they had, it was more than the demons driving him.
It was hot and dangerous and more than a little scary, and I’m glad Richard had said no when I’d asked him to do blood play with me when I hadn’t really known what it was.
But now Deirdre is gone, kicked out by my king. Jace’s demons have quieted. He’s cleaned himself up. And Richard is sitting on the sofa, his trousers undone, his legs spread, his cock glistening in his hand.
I lick my lips as he jerks himself off. “Please,” I beg as I stare at his piercing twinkling in the light. “I’ll be good. I promise I’ll remember to ask for food when I’m hungry. I won’t forget again. Just let me taste you. Please, my king.”
“The belt stays on for another two hours. Are you sure you can handle it?”
I nod feverishly.
“Are you lying?”
I shake my head, my eyes latched onto that piece of metal. On the way his hand is moving, taking the pleasure I want to give.
Holding a hand out to me, he crooks a finger. Opening my mouth, I lean forwards on a moan. He lets me control the first head bob, but then he’s fisting my hair, and his cock is slamming into me. I suck in rapid breaths when I can, but I can’t get enough air, and I’m starting to go dizzy.
Still, I beg him not to slow.
“Fuck, Jace. Look at her. She’s so fucking desperate.”
“She likes having her face fucked.”
Richard keeps his eyes on mine. “That’s because you’re a good fucking slut, aren’t you?”
Whimpering, I try to nod. I reach between his thighs to cup his balls. He grunts as he widens his stance. His fingers tighten, pulling on my scalp. His hips buck faster. Panting hard, he pushes in deep. My nose against his flesh, he holds himself there.
His stomach spasms as hot bursts of cum fill my mouth. I struggle to swallow it all, but there’s simply too much. As it drips down my chin, I start to wipe it up, but then I stop.
My needy eyes flick to Jace, recalling how he cleaned me last time.
I look back at my king, a silent plea. His eyes hot, he pulls me to my feet, then spins me around to face his friend.
My bra back around his cock, Jace groans as he takes me all in. Richard shoves me hard enough I stumble into him. He catches me with just the tips of his fingers on my hips, not holding me like he did Deirdre. Just the bare minimum, respecting his friend’s claim.
