by T. A. Grey
“So wet,” he said, sounding delirious and not at all like himself.
He claimed her mouth in a wild kiss. His tongue sliding deep, she tasted him and all his erotic heat. She matched him beat for beat while his fingers danced between her legs, plucking and petting her sex. He circled her sensitive bud, the touch scattering and feather-light before pressing near her entrance. He broke apart to growl against her lips, “I’m going to be buried deep inside you. Soon. I don’t want to wait.”
His bold statement was punctuated by a feverish kiss as he circled her bud again. Penelope stood on her toes and swung her arms over Ryon’s neck to hold on for dear life. She felt completely exposed; his touch was so simple; it shouldn’t excite her so much, yet it did.
“I want you to say my name when you come.”
In her mind she refused to agree. No way would she give him the satisfaction. If he could even make her come.
But then his touch grew intent and with his hard cock a reminder at her backside—Penelope came apart, ripped asunder.
Her husky cries called out into the dark night. Her core exploded at the pinnacle; the power of the peak took her by surprise, sweeping brusquely through her in undulating waves.
Hot, wet bursts released inside her energy passing through her at his commanding touch.
Ryon stroked her like a perfectly tuned guitar, his teeth sinking into her neck. He was claiming her in his own way, marking her with his dominance as she came.
After the hardest shivers died down, he caressed her sex like he might caress a kitty cat. The deep satisfied sounds coming from his throat nearly made her swoon. The power he could wield over her was too strong. He could devastate her.
“You didn’t say it,” he remarked.
She couldn’t even open her eyes yet. “Say what?”
“My name, if you’ll recall.” Oh, that. Luckily, he didn’t sound like he cared much.
“I didn’t,” she agreed.
He chuckled against her neck.
“Is that laughter I hear?” That sound opened her eyes and she turned around to see a smile faltering from his face.
“I do laugh on occasion, Pen.”
It was hard looking at him. Hunger was written across his face in his low-lidded, sexy expression. His erection tented his pants with pent-up, virile desire. Penelope licked her lips before meeting his gaze again.
Ryon looked like he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. He was studying her nipples when he added huskily, “I do take repayments. I’ve always wondered what your mouth would feel like on my cock.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. He’d never dared to speak to her in such a way before. The words didn’t shock her. It was who spoke such words that did surprise her. He normally had such a prudish mouth.
Invariably her gaze dropped to his waistband. She had been teasing him tonight. He did make her orgasm which was quite wonderful. Her muscles felt loose and relaxed now like she’d just finished a long rub.
Maybe she should return the favor…
Penelope cupped his cheeks and pulled him down for a lasting kiss. She ran her hand down his chest. Mounds of hard muscles rippled over his abdomen. The skin at his hips was tight and firm, the color tanned and perfect. Such a fine specimen of man. She lifted his shirt up to reveal his stomach. The muscles bunched and rolled under her inquisitive gaze.
“What are you doing?” he asked gruffly. Hearing him sound unsure brought a wicked smile to her lips.
“I thought you wanted me to suck on your cock?” asked the predator to the prey.
He glared at her, not trusting her one iota. She couldn’t blame him.
Then he dropped a bomb that made her stagger. “I’ve dreamt of it.”
“You’ve dreamt of it?”
He paused, then, “More times than I can count.”
She squirmed and pressed her thighs together which in turn applied more pressure to her sex. Who knew the general could surprise her with such wicked thoughts. “And did I suck your cock in these dreams?”
He looked like he might smile. “Sometimes. Other times I was eating your quim or fucking it.”
Her quim twitched with arousal. Penelope ran her hand down the length of his shaft, grazing it over the prickly material of his trousers. With a single finger she stroked him to test his girth and strength. Quite viral and unyieldingly stiff. She licked her lips but didn’t admit that she’d had dreams too. Fantasies, all of which involved Ryon Ward, her general, and them naked.
“And how do you fuck me in these dreams?” she asked softly. Her touches were growing bolder.
He struggled to keep his breaths normal. “Every way imaginable. But each times ends up the same.”
“Curious,” she said. “I do wonder…how’s that?” Wetness leaked from his blunt cockhead, moistening his trousers. His cock must ache to be released from their confines.
“With you holding onto me, taking all my thrusts. Then I fill you with my seed.”
She couldn’t think of anything else to say. He’d stunned her stupid with his sensual imagery. His fantasy sounded deliciously appealing to her. Her arousal made her flush and her breasts ache with heaviness. The thought of having such a big male rutting above her until he finished made her insides gooey.
“Sounds…exciting.”
“Not as exciting as feeling your hand on me.” His head rolled back to expose a masculine expanse of neck. She wanted to kiss and nibble it while she stroked him. She wanted to suck on him until he spurted his seed all over her tits.
He must have caught her contemplative look. “What are you thinking about?”
She didn’t hesitate to tell him. In fact, she grew excited thinking about what his reaction might be. So she repeated her dirty thought to him in a rushed whisper. “Sucking your cock until you come on my tits.”
He cupped the back of her head, unnervingly pulling her toward him. “Please,” was all he said. A dark glint sparkled in his eyes.
It sounded like a dying man’s plea.
Penelope could only resist so much; even she had her breaking point. And apparently that point was seeing Ryon’s look of unadulterated pain across his face. She reached inside his trousers and found the hot rod of flesh waiting for her. She pulled him out to meet fresh air.
His cock was long and thick, the skin tight but soft. And so hot, he nearly singed her palm. Ridges and veins were vivid from unrepented arousal. She stroked him once with a loose-fingered grip. She preferred her seductions to move slowly, teasing ever more until she built him up to a fever pitch.
Poor Ryon looked like he’d been at a fever pitch for hours.
His hand came up to curl in her hair as his breaths quickened. His eyes were wide with surprise at her mouth so near to his cock, gazing at her with hunger and wonder. She darted out her tongue and licked gently around the spongy tip of him. His cock bobbed for more.
She opened her mouth to finally suck him deep and feel him down the back of her throat—when someone called her name.
“Penelope!”
Branches snapped and again the voice called out. “Where are you already? Penelope! Are you out here?”
Penelope stood in a rush. “My boss!” She’d completely forgotten. “I’m supposed to be working. I have a whole show planned for tonight. I have to get back to work!”
Ryon grabbed her elbow before she could dart away. He looked wild and irritated. It was incredibly sexy.
Knowing she was leaving him unfinished sent a thrill through her blood like electricity. Penelope fixed her top, then shimmied away with an apologetic smile. “I have to go.” A giggle escaped at his frustrated grimace.
“Now?” he growled. His jaw slid side to side.
She flashed one last look at his mighty cock before nodding. “I have to go. Truly! I’m sorry.”
And then she was gone, leaving Ryon at the pond with his cock locked and ready to blow.
Lord, he loved that woman.
Chapter 3
“State your business.”
“I’m here to see the king. Upon his request,” Ryon added. All this introductory business was mandatory but necessary. They both knew he had been summoned and why he was here.
The royal protocols were in place because of tradition and still they continued to use those outdated rules in their society. They each had to act the right part, say the right lines, even though Ryon and the king had been on a first-name basis for the better part of fifteen years.
They’d studied together at the academy.
Ryon had even helped the king to bed after a drunken night gone wrong. Never had Ryon seen so much vomit in his life. And he never wished to again.
At the steward’s nod, the guardsman wearing the opulent royal militia garb of red velvet, white fur, and silver halberd, opened the antechamber doors. Ryon entered the king’s private chambers. The room was a personalized mix of a study and a bedroom. The king worked long hours, often late into the night. He enjoyed keeping his work close to where he slept. Made things easier, he supposed.
Feminine titter, quickly accompanied by a softer laugh caught Ryon’s attention. He cleared his throat roughly. Two naked women, hair pinned high atop their head in curls worn with studded tiaras lay languidly on the king’s round mattress.
One woman was brunette and stared at Ryon like a leopard wanting to pounce. All the while she stared, she stroked the blonde woman’s stomach beside her like a pet. The blonde woman was lying there with her eyes closed and looked like she might be sleeping after a rather vigorous amount of play from the king.
Lionel “Lyle” Hargrowe, King of Tarlè, stood out on the balcony at the rear of the room. He smoked a thin, black cigarette and was reading some papers. The creases in his forehead were burrowed deep as he read.
Ryon crossed to him, ignoring the cooing calls from the female companionship on the bed. Lyle didn’t have a wife but he did keep a mistress, or several, as some royalty did. His tastes lay with the beautiful women of which he partook freely.
After his father’s fall into illness, Lionel had taken over the kingship. As king, Lyle had managed to stave off an unwanted marriage since his parents were no longer alive to push such proclamations onto him. He had never been quiet about his disdain for marriage.
The king’s head lifted as Ryon approached. He cracked a welcoming smile. Their friendship had grown deep over the years, becoming more of a brotherhood than a friendship.
“About damn time you made it. What’s kept you?”
Ryon took a cigarette that Lyle offered and lit it. He didn’t smoke regularly but this was an occasion for one. “I went to see Penelope.”
Lyle grinned; the king was unquestionably attractive to women with his shoulder-length coppery hair and hazel eyes. King or not, the man would never have a problem finding a willing woman to bed. He was fit from the military training he kept up during his few free hours. Ryon had been seeing him less and less on the training fields.
The news hadn’t been leaked to the public yet, but there’d been a possible Avagarian attack on a small home in the east of the kingdom. A home was ransacked, then burned and the male from the house, a devoted husband, went missing. It’d been a long time since an Avagarian attack. They had all begun to feel safe under such calm. The burnt house and missing person was a cruel reminder they could never drop their guard.
The sound of a sharp gasp sent him looking back over his shoulder at the two women. Honestly, it didn’t matter if their faces were pretty or not; their bodies were healthy and ripe and naked. That’s all a real man needed. Much as Penelope’s body looked earlier tonight at the pond. He ground his teeth as his cock jumped at the reminder of her. He’d felt her stiff nipples, had cupped the tight flesh at her backside, had felt her tongue caressing his with fervent ardor. She’d wanted him. Had encouraged him. He’d felt her come apart in his bare hand.
“Can’t say I’m surprised to see you’re looking sour this evening. I take it you’ve received your missive then,” Lyle said.
“You’re a rich prick, you know that?” Ryon responded.
The brunette was still watched him with ardent intent in her eyes. The blonde woke up and the brunette pulled the smaller woman against her like lovers hugging. The woman cupped the blonde’s rather sizeable tits and smiled, revealing a row of white teeth. Too bad she was wasting her time on him.
Laughing, King Lyle flicked his burnt out smoke over the railing. It landed on the cobblestone private courtyard below. “I won’t deny it,” the king said at length.
“Why didn’t you tell me beforehand?”
“And spoil the surprise?” The king arched an eyebrow. “Honestly, there was no easy way to tell you. Her name ended up on my dossier. It was my choice. So I chose.”
“Why her?” Bitterness rankled his nerve-endings like grated sandpaper scratched across the tongue.
“Why not her?” he challenged. Lyle headed back into his room without sparing a glance at the action taking place on the bed.
Ryon turned his back to the women, the brunette of which now had her mouth wrapped around the other woman’s breast.
“The fact is, she’s the right age and her health will not get any better. When I saw her name on the list of potential female candidates, I decided to push things into motion.” Lyle rummaged in his desk until he pulled out a quill and ink well. He scribbled on some papers.
“I heard talk that you fancied the girl. Quite a spirited ballet dancer she is. I saw her perform last year. She has the most succulent---”
“Watch your mouth,” Ryon cut in.
Tension crept in between them like a static charge. Then Lyle cracked a grin which deflated the tension.
“See, this possessiveness, it’s unlike you. I can hardly recognize my friend, the general, honestly.”
The women were moaning and gasping, the sounds beckoning Ryon’s thoughts and mind. He’d been too long without sex and Penelope had him past the limits. He needed to get home and find some release. Soon.
“Penelope and I have history. That’s it. I’m going to claim her. Even before you sent out the proclamation. We both knew it. It’s just a matter of making her see things my way.”
“Ah, how intriguing, I see, I see.” The king spoke rapidly as he often did when he had multiple things on his mind.
“I don’t want to keep you. I have things to see to—” Like my aching balls. “Was there anything else you needed from me?”
Lyle lit another cigarette, then clamped it between his lips as he rolled up a map of the kingdom. Ryon recognized it; this particular map marked the strategic attack points from the Avagarians and showed each location they’d ever hit.
“The locals say they hear howling in the forest late at night.”
“They say the trees are talking,” said the brunette woman on the bed.
“Lysse, my dear, do shut up,” Lyle said.
The woman, Lysse was her name, winked then rolled over to continue petting the other girl.
“Let’s find out what they’re talking about to be certain,” Lyle said.
“It’s probably nothing. Simply fears being compounded after the recent attack. Everyone will be feeling less safe,” Ryon said, his mind already at work breaking apart the mechanics of the situation and planning. Always planning. The attack was isolated, but Ryon anticipated more, much more. The king may have his own resources to gather information, but so did Ryon. The folks living on the eastern border weren’t just whispering about trees talking—they were whispering about seeing strange faces moving in and out of the forest at night.
That had made Ryon’s skin prickle. The Avagarians could be planning an all-out assault in the future. He’d kept the people of Tarlè safe for six years; he just hoped he could keep it that way for six more.
“Naturally, of course. Still, see to it and report back to me if you find anything interesting.”
Ryon nodded and turned to go, but the king stopped him.
“One more thing…”
Lyle said. Ryon turned back around, crossed his arms, impatient to get home. “Would you like to take Lysse with you? She’s quite decadent.”
Lysse rolled on the bed to face Ryon, the soft expression of a hopeful woman showing on her face. Ryon, however, felt no lust toward this woman.
“I’d rather not.”
Before Lysse could screech a storm at him, Ryon spun on his heel and exited. He had an ache to ease.
Chapter 4
“You should have seen the look on his face.” Penelope sighed, a dreamy smile on her face.
“I wish I could have seen it,” her sister, Phoebe, said.
At only five and twenty, Phoebe was the youngest child out of the Farris sisters. While Penelope had turned out to be a dancer like their grandmother, Phoebe had taken the military route like their father. She taught archery for the ranged forces. She was the best bow shooter in the kingdom. No one had yet to beat her in archery competitions. Many had tried and failed.
Phoebe had stopped by Penelope’s dressing room for a brief chat before Pen took the stage tonight.
“He’s going to fight for me at the Claiming, to be my husband.”
Phoebe’s eyes widened. “I know you and he have a history, but is this Claiming Ceremony what you want?”
Penelope nibbled on her lip as she finished shimming into her white tutu for tonight’s performance. “I’m not sure. He’s quite…large and intimidating. I’m afraid a life with him won’t leave me much freedom.”
“True enough,” Phoebe agreed. “He seems to, oh, I don’t know, care about you though. Does that make things different?”
Penelope didn’t let her sister see how much her words affected her. She’d hoped that Phoebe would come here and discourage her from accepting Ryon’s claim. Instead, she seemed to want to hook them up. Not exactly what she’d been expecting from her macho-archery sister.
“I doubt that. He wants to sleep with me. He’s thinking with his manhood and little else,” Penelope said.
