In the Arms of the King

by Heather Killough-Walden

  When the pressure increased, sending more pain-pleasure shooting down her body between her legs, Siobhan frowned, bit her lip hard, and tried to turn her head away.

  “You’re so beautiful,” the Phantom King rasped as his lips brushed her cheek, then her temple, and then the curve of her throat beneath her ear. He released her tender nipple to slide his hand down across her ribcage and the gentle swell of her belly before dipping into the dark red curls between her legs. Now Siobhan’s eyes flew open wide and, as if he knew she would begin struggling anew, his hand tightened around her throat, waylaying any thoughts of escape.

  She froze as his legs held her open and his hand relentlessly descended through her soft curls to the ever-so-moist cleft between her legs. The brush of his fingers across her slick opening made her buck in his grip. It was electric and fevered and as he delved deeper inside her, completely undeterred, she soaked his fingers with her need.

  “And honest,” he whispered, the sound something between a guttural chuckle of pure evil and a pain-filled sound of unbelievable yearning.

  Suddenly, his hand was gone from her throat, and the fingers he’d plunged into her wetness were removed, and both hands were on her thighs, pressing them open as he reared up like a snake about to strike.

  Siobhan gazed up at him in wonder, shock, and absolute abandon. Her fingers curled into the sheets beneath her, clutching them tight as if the world would throw her off if she let go. The Phantom King was now completely unclothed, and the moon and stars shed a tempting glow across his incredible body. She could see all of him now. Everything.

  And when she felt the hard, hot brand of his member pressing against her opening, she rose to meet him, her delirious mind completely blank but for one all-encompassing desire. She wanted to feel him inside of her, his incredible size filling her up in a way she’d never imagined possible. She wanted it so badly, it was literally driving her insane.

  She’d wanted it since the moment he’d turned to face her in her doorway. Since he’d stepped into her house and shut the door behind him. Since he’d straddled the front wheel of her motorcycle. She’d wanted it forever.

  Thane lowered his hard body over hers, bracing a strong arm on the bed on each side of her, and Siobhan released the sheets to press her palms into the sculpted rock of his chest. Her nails dug deep, her body tensed, and her eyes were caught and held by his as he drove slowly into her, breaching the walls of her female defenses and claiming her as his.

  Animal need inflamed her, forcing her up off the bed to thrust him deeper within her. He stretched her tight and filled her up, heating her from the inside like a furnace. Rivulets of lightning pleasure snaked up from her clitoris as his body pressed against it, stimulating it from both inside and out.

  The stars swayed above them, and comets streamed across the sky while he moved within her. It was a delicious almost-pain, a frenzied kind of pleasure that left her crying out and gasping for air as she gazed through half-closed lids at the topsy-turvy night.

  Siobhan screamed and arched against his chest, her breasts crushed beneath him as he began to thrust into her faster, driving deeper, inciting a rising need that dragged Siobhan closer and closer to that precipice.

  The Phantom King’s beast was unrestrained, the animal within him taking over, and she knew it would shove her right off of that cliff. She would go tumbling end over end into oblivion, crying out her thanks to the gods the whole way down.

  His lips were on hers again, bruising, biting, edging her on toward madness. He released her from the kiss, his lips trailing again to her jaw and then to her throat. Siobhan could barely register thought.

  He kissed the vein in her neck, then poised there, breathless, as he drove into her like a jackhammer. “I have to taste you,” he growled with the deep, lust-maddened voice of a demon. The gentleness was long gone.

  She could not think. There was no comprehension – and no disquiet. Whatever he wanted, he could have. “Take it,” she gasped, not even knowing what she was giving away. Take it all, she thought. It’s yours. My God, it’s all yours.

  She felt his hand firmly grasp her chin and turn her head to fully expose the throat he’d been kissing, but his cock was so hard and so deep, she was mindless.

  The first prick against her throat furrowed her brow – but then, as his wicked sharp fangs slowly began to sink their full length into her taut neck and the vein beneath, she understood.

  Her hands flew to his arms to find purchase. Fear thrummed through her. She waited for the pain, for the death that would surely come with someone opening up such a major artery.

  But he was relentless; he sank his teeth in to the hilt and went still, holding himself there within her. There was no pain. In the stillness, as his cock waited in subjugation inside of her and his teeth claimed her throat, Siobhan could hear the ragged course of her breathing. Her heart hammered, her body throbbed, and that precipice loomed ever nearer.

  He waited. Pressing in, sinking so deep.

  And waited.

  And when Siobhan thought she would rip out her own heart if she he didn’t allow her to climax soon, she felt him pull back from between her legs…. And then ram fully into her as he pulled against her throat, taking her life-giving blood and swallowing it down.

  The sensation was indescribable, and it buzzed through her, that electrifying little death that kicked her over the edge and sent her flying.

  He drove forward, pulled back, and shoved into her again and again.

  She screamed into the astral night, crying out as her body convulsed around his with every wave that coursed through her. She was drowning in pleasure, each flex and pull upon her body so hard, so blissfully severe, she saw stars on the insides of her lids.

  There was no beginning and no end. Time became an infinite loop of velveteen rapture beneath Thane’s adept ministrations. He drank deeper, drove harder, moved faster, and Siobhan lost track of every lucid thing in the world. Somehow, through the haze of her seraphic delirium, she felt Thanatos pull his teeth from her throat, saw him rise above her, and watched through half-closed lids as the king threw back his head and roared into the night, the sheer beauty of him enough to hold her entranced.

  The stars slowed… the planets stopped dancing, and the bed beneath Siobhan’s clutching fingers engulfed her in sated warmth. Above her, Thane lowered his head, and she was lanced by the melted metal of his eyes. He watched her for a breathless moment, a look of absolute wonder on his perfect features.

  And then, ever so slowly and with the bewildered care that came when someone realized they had something truly precious, The Phantom King once more claimed her lips with his own.

  The Warlock King

  The Kings, Book Three

  Chloe knew where she was now just as she’d understood where she was on the astral plane. For the first time in eons, she was fully awake, fully aware. She could feel the satin sheets beneath her fingertips. She could smell the fire in the hearth and the faint scent of men’s soap. She could even hear and feel Jason beside her, his breathing ragged either from fright or awe or both.

  He rose above her and she felt his hand on the side of her face.

  “Chloe?” he asked softly.

  She didn’t answer him.

  Ever since her foray into the rooms of his basement and hidden office, Chloe had been struck with a streak of something wayward. Maybe it was Jason’s magic running through her veins. Or, at least that was what she’d told herself.

  In truth, it was more than that. It was who she was on the inside. Now that she’d been completely emptied out of her entire essence and filled to the brim with it once more, she understood that better than ever.

  She understood that darkness was just that: Dark. It was nothing more. Nothing evil, nothing wrong. It was nothing iniquitous or taboo or shameful. It was dark like the night was dark to the day. It was that endless space in which the stars shone the brightest.

  It was necessary. And it was especially nec
essary for her.

  For thousands of years, she had played hide and seek with the rest of the world. Only it had been her hiding – and them seeking. She had been out of control. Not once had she ever had jurisdiction over her own existence.

  But now she was as she had once been. She was Chloe Septeran of the 28. She was powerful and potent.

  She was in control.

  And there was something she wanted. There was something she’d wanted even before that first moment in New York. She’d wanted it deep down, far beneath the murky surface of her fears and trepidations.

  She wanted the Warlock King.

  He’d always fascinated her; he was this beacon of power to her magic-hungry people, like a bright flame to a suicidal moth. And to her, he was the living embodiment of everything she had ever desired but was too afraid to have. He was tall, handsome, capable, strong, and powerful, and now that she’d seen a side of him hidden to the rest of the world, she knew he was so much more.

  She wanted it all.

  But you have to start somewhere.

  With great, unexpected speed, Chloe sat up in the bed, grabbed her king by the neck, and turned with him, taking him completely by surprise. She used strength she’d never before possessed to slam his broad, muscle-heavy form down onto the mattress beneath her.

  Jason’s emerald gaze widened. “Chloe –”

  Chloe placed her finger to his lips and slowly shook her head. The pupils in Jason’s eyes expanded, eating up the green to reveal his hunger. Chloe smiled.

  She glanced down at his hands where he had grabbed hold of the sheets in his surprise at her sudden movement. She sent out a quick, mischievous thought, using powers she had not possessed in millennia.

  At once, his strong arms were yanked above his head, one stretched to each side. Jason gritted his teeth, flexing against her magic – but he failed to break loose.

  “That’s okay, your majesty,” she teased, leaning in to whisper her next words against his lips. “I don’t mind if you fight me. I love the way you look when you do.”

  And she did. The muscles of his chest and arms bulged against the material of his black dress shirt. She could stare at him forever.

  If she weren’t so impatient.

  Right now, she needed to do more than look. Thick black silk ropes appeared at each upper bedpost, wrapping quickly and efficiently around his wrists, binding him tight. Jason yanked at each rope, testing them. They held fast, fueled by the strength of her ancient powers.

  She could tell he was impressed. He would know how to tie someone up, after all.

  Jason took a deep breath, settled down, and leveled her with his heated gaze. “What do you think you’re doing, Stardust?”

  “I’m sure you don’t have to ask, Jason,” she told him as ropes identical to the ones around his wrists swiftly appeared and bound his ankles to the last two bed posts. They moved so blindingly fast, he had no time to react before they were wrapped several times around each leg and he was spread-eagled and helpless.

  “A man with your tastes should have no trouble understanding what is happening here.”

  Comprehension dawned on Jason’s handsome features. Something flashed in his gaze; they lit from within momentarily with some unknown emotion. “You went downstairs,” he said softly.

  She just smiled.

  Jason’s gaze narrowed. “While I was unconscious.”

  Yes, I found your little BDSM chamber, Chloe thought. She could see the a little nervousness in his expression now. There was excitement there too, to be sure. The desire was plain in his eyes. But there was fear there as well. Not of what she would do to him – he could handle anything. He was afraid of what she would think of him.

  If he only knew.

  “Yes, I did,” she told him. “I know all of your deep, dark secrets Warlock King. And you know what I think?”

  Jason swallowed hard; she could see his throat working. She wanted to kiss it. She wanted to bite it and suck it and leave a mark on it – while he could do nothing but bare his perfect white teeth and groan.

  But instead, she waited. Finally, he shook his head.

  “I think that you’re depraved, immoral, and impure,” she told him, affecting a fake look of absolute seriousness. “And you need to be punished.”

  With that, she reached up, grabbed the collar of his tailored button-up with both hands, and pulled down as fast and hard as she could. The sound of material ripping filled the room. The fire in the hearth expanded, shifted into the greens and deep, blood reds, then settled back down again, crackling madly.

  Jason never took his eyes off her. The thin green rings of his irises glowed as if on fire.

  Chloe’s heart hammered madly. She hesitated a moment, almost shocked at what she’d just done.

  But it was only a moment, before her gaze was raking down the length of his chest, taking in the sheen of his sweat and the way it played against the ridges of his muscles. He was a beautiful prisoner, all trussed up and helpless.

  She caught his eyes again – and recognized the other look in them now. It was helplessness. He wasn’t used to that feeling. He’d been helpless once or twice before. He’d trusted others, had no choice but to trust others. And that trust had been abused. Hence, he tried very hard to make certain that he was never, ever helpless again. Always in control.

  Hence, the natural dom.

  In truth though, Chloe would be hard pressed to find a less helpless man.

  She knew he was terrified of being out of control. Yet… he hadn’t used his magic to free himself. She also knew that he could. She knew he could overpower her if he really wanted to. She may be composed of ancient magic. But he’d spent forever controlling the very same.

  Maybe he didn’t know he could? Maybe he hadn’t even tried.

  Either way, it worked in her favor.

  His pants were going next. She slid down the length of his body, pushing herself along the mattress with hands braced on either side of him. As she did, she watched him writhe, fighting against the unbreakable bonds she had trapped him in. It was a gorgeous, mouth-watering sight.

  He knew what she was planning; it was the reason for his increased struggles.

  Chloe glanced up along his six-packed midriff to lock eyes with him again. It was hard to stay away for long. His teeth were bared, and his look was almost one of warning.

  Gently, carefully, Chloe laid her hand across the taut muscles of his abdomen. His struggles instantly stilled, and Jason closed his eyes. “You’re playing with fire, Stardust.”

  Fire, she thought. Fierce, incandescent, all consuming. She closed her own eyes and wrapped her fingers around the top button of his slacks. “I certainly hope so,” she breathed.

  *****

  Jason tensed as he felt Chloe’s fingers grip the waistband of his dress pants. He was rock hard underneath; that much was obvious by the tenting bulge. His heart beat a crazy pace against his rib cage. His hands flexed into fists and un-flexed, his muscles pulled taut against her bindings. So well done. Superbly, actually.

  He was floating in a soup of confused sensations – fear… and pleasure. Longing and desperation. A part of him was horrified at his current position. But another part, a fast growing part… was fascinated.

  Behind his closed eyes, he saw Chloe with her softly glowing skin, her blood that pulsed with the force of the stars, and a body so warm and soft to the touch, it drove him mad, and he could not suppress the groan that rose deep in his throat. As if to answer, her fingertips brushed the sensitive skin above his hipbones, threatening.

  Promising.

  “Ah, the adonis belt,” whispered Chloe, her words ghosting the same skin.

  He swore softly. His mind was spinning end over end. It reeled with the after-images of shooting comets and copied kings and near devastation. The night had filled itself with impossibilities to the bursting point, tearing at the seams and sending him tumbling into near oblivion. And here, now, it taunted and tortured, openin
g a door he’d thought he’d locked. Chloe seemed to have found the key.

  He was the Warlock King. Magic churned and sped through him, a conflagration in his very veins. He had almost every spell in the world at his disposal. Escape was but a thought away. And yet he could not think it.

  Or would not?

  He’d half expected her to rip his slacks away with her sudden infusion of inhuman strength just as she had his shirt. But she moved slowly, purposefully, and motes of light swam in Jason’s vision.

  She was too good at this.

  “And not a stitch underneath,” Chloe purred. “I knew it.”

  Jason’s eyes flew open. Nearly every ounce of him now wanted to break loose, grab hold of her, trap her body beneath his on the bed, and teach her what happened to little girls who dabbled in dangerous things.

  He peered down his body to lock eyes with her. Her cheeks had flushed, her slightly glowing sea foam colored eyes were glassy, and her parted lips were full and red.

  She held his gaze for a heartbeat, then another, as she finished pulling down his zipper.

  Then her expression became downright evil. She gracefully straightened above him, sitting up – and began undoing her own zipper. It was on the side of her red satin gown. She grasped the top with long, slender fingers and, watching him every moment, she slowly pulled the tab downward.

  He yanked at his bindings. Why, he had no idea. He was well aware they would hold. But now he had a more thorough understanding of why his own subs had done that over the years.

  Chloe smiled, clearly pleased to see him fight beneath her.

  She was so close, but he couldn’t touch her.

  Touch me again, he thought desperately. He would have given anything he possessed in that moment just to have her lean over and place her hand to his chest. But she denied him, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her as that zipper languidly exposed inch after delicious inch of her perfect, creamy flesh.

  With the come-hither curved lips of a well-trained geisha, Chloe curled her fingers under the single spaghetti strap over her right shoulder. She pulled it to the side. The dress was loosened by the undone zipper, and it slipped down over the perfect swell of her right breast, catching just slightly before the creamy white mound was exposed to the open air and Jason’s burning gaze.