by T. A. Grey
“Your Majesty!” Only after her slight outburst, did she blush furiously. Surely, she was supposed to quietly and daintily whisper to him in greeting, if saying anything at all.
She could feel the eyes on her, looking at her, sneering, judging and assessing. She thought quickly of something to say, but the king beat her to it.
“My lady, Penelope Farris. I would recognize that graceful bow anywhere. The finest ballet dancer in the kingdom,” the king said. He had the charming demeanor of a debonair gent. He oozed sexual competency in his bold movements and keen intellect. His smile was disarming, which he seemed to know how to use smartly. This wasn’t a man you would want to cross.
Blushing straight down to her toes, Penelope slowly rose. The king was not as intimidating as she had originally thought. Up close and personal, she could see how he could be a potential friend under different circumstances. The hint of a smile toyed at the corner of his mouth. He’d come to Prima Donna’s on several previous occasions, but he’d sat amidst an entourage of royalty in the best balcony seats in the house. And so she’d never met him face-to-face before.
“Your Majesty is too kind. It would be my pleasure to dance a number for you any time.”
The king nodded in approval. His gaze swept the room and landed on Ryon who was charging through the crowd toward them with the speed and strength of a battering ram. “Have you met General Ryon Ward, Lady Farris?” the king asked.
Ryon entered the group wearing a comical expression. Even grimacing, he was quite handsome and looked rather dashing in his military uniform. She rarely saw him wearing it. The jacket showcased how broad his shoulders were and presented the strength in his arms and hands to masculine perfection. Gold-plated buttons made of the royal seal adorned crisp navy sleeves.
Not wanting to miss a chance to tease him, she said, “I don’t believe I have. General Ward, a pleasure,” she said, bowing low in greeting.
Ryon growled beneath his breath. “Stop bowing, Penelope, you’re being silly.”
“I was just telling His Majesty that I would dance for him any time.” She held his gaze. A crowd of curious eyes had gathered to watch the goings-on with the king. She had a feeling they’d write about this interaction in the gossip column of the newspaper. “Have you ever seen me dance, General? Or do you tend to leave before the performance is finished?”
The king stifled a laugh under the guise of a faux yawn.
Ryon looked away, perhaps trying for patience.
“Excuse me,” he said, then grabbed her elbow like he was her date. “We need to have a private conversation.”
The king nodded and didn’t bother hiding his smile now.
Oh! Penelope seethed, they were friends. Of course! That traitorous king had just handed her over to the beastly general like a hunk of cattle. Well, she’d have to face Ryon sooner over later tonight. She might as well get the fun started now.
Chapter 6
Ryon found an empty room somewhere away from the crowded ballroom and pulled them inside it. He was fuming, so angry he could throw his fist through the wall.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” He paced a tight circle before snatching Penelope’s wrist when she started to move away. “I don’t think so. You’re not going anywhere until we talk.”
“Talk, talk, talk. That’s all you want to do,” she said blithely. “You are being far too serious, Ryon.”
He froze in place like a statue.
She called him Ryon. She’d actually used his name.
She kept talking, having not realized his stunned countenance.
“Truly, there is no need for this macho behavior. You’re acting like a right mad Ava.”
Ava was a common slur for Avagarian and it meant something close to heathen. It was considered the lowliest of insults. However, hearing that deep insult coming from Penelope’s pretty mouth in that soft, feminine voice of hers didn’t bother him at all. He actually found his mouth twitching to keep from laughing.
“And in front of the king, no less. You’re acting as if you’ve already claimed me.” She was agitated and flushed, working into a tizzy with her hands planted firmly on her hips. “Listen to me, because I have the gossip for you, General. You are not my husband, you have not claimed me, and you do not control me.”
“You don’t have to tell me what I already know,” he said.
She faltered, then carried on, “Who knows how many men will be at the Claiming for me—”
He laughed harshly. “You plan on having that many?”
It might be a low blow to some. Not to Penelope. “I have a duke willing to fight for me and hordes of fans. Truly, we have no idea how many will come, and don’t pretend that isn’t the truth. And to think you have the right to grab my arm and bully me. Just so you can talk to me is simply outrageous. Tell me, are you out of your mind?”
Ryon waited a breath to see if she had anything more to say. Her arched eyebrow and peeved glare stared back at him.
He looked at her flushed face and felt an equal warmth bloom in his ribcage. He wanted to kiss her—to make love to her ’till neither one of them could move a muscle. Tingles formed at the base of his spine as blood pumped to places he didn’t want.
“I am out of my mind.” He spoke between clenched teeth. “And it’s your fault.”
Her glare became murderous. “You would blame me! Typical man. Nothing but a brute who can’t take responsibility.”
He had to shake his head to try to understand that one. “Can’t take responsibility? Pen, I’m the General of the Tarlèan Army. I assure you, I excel at responsibility.”
Her lips pursed and he thought he’d stumped her, then she opened her mouth. It was never-ending.
“I don’t want you to be at my Claiming this weekend.” She crossed her arms and looked away. Her dismissal of him was like a stinging slap to the face. He didn’t like that. Didn’t like that at all.
Ryon, not to be outdone by her pouting, placed a fist above her shoulder where she stood by the door.
“No, you d--don’t!” she sputtered, trying to duck away. Ryon trapped her with his other fist above her shoulder. When she moved to duck out of his arms, he slammed his hips into hers. No hiding his erection now. Her eyes flew wide at the feel of him and a pretty blush colored her cheeks. He liked the look. It was exactly how she’d looked after he’d made her come. His cock leapt at the thought, remembering the slick feel of her wetness on his fingertips, of her potent scent, which no matter how many times he seemed to wash his hands wouldn’t go away. And when it finally had, he couldn’t hide his disappointment.
“I do not have the patience for this,” he ground out. He could smell her—Lord, why did she have to smell so bloody good? He’d never cared about a woman’s scent before, but hers drove him mad, and worse, it made is ball ache to be emptied.
Without warning, she covered his cock with her hand. Their gazes locked, his heart leaping like galloping stallions down a rocky pass. “What are you—”
He didn’t even get to finish the question before she squeezed him. A gargle sound escaped him. The pleasure spiked through him all at once, stealing the breath from his lungs. Just as quickly, she released him.
“You’re hard,” she stated, matter-of-factly.
What was she playing at? He couldn’t tell, but she was being deceptively cool. And he didn’t like it.
“Quite long, too. The women must like that.”
“You say ‘the women’ like they’re a specific group.” Sweat formed on his brow. Strain flexed his muscles until they were tense. All because of her touch.
What would she do? What did she want?
He wanted her to touch him. He wanted it with such potency he wouldn’t dare admit it. Especially not to her. If she knew what kind of power she had over him…he’d never regain his footing. She was too strong and she needed someone just as strong to match pace with her. That’s why they were perfect together.
“I’m referri
ng to all the women who’ve had the privilege of feeling your big cock pillaging their little quims.” A wry smile tipped her mouth, doing crazy things to his system.
“Soon, you’ll be one of them.” Ryon dropped his head, needing to kiss her. He ground his hips into her—a direct message. But she kept her cheek turned away and her mouth out of reach. If she but gave him a few strokes, he could come.
She gasped at what he said, the sound soft and sexy. Her eyes rolled up to meet his and they dazzled mischievously. “Do you really think so? I’ll have to admit,” she whispered conspiratorially, “I’ve never been with a man so…large.”
His chest puffed up, his ego soaring at her words.
Yes, he thought. My cock will make its mark on you; just as I will.
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he said, garnering her attention.
She cupped his manhood against, squeezing it until he shuddered. Hard edges scraped down the length of him over his trousers as she teased him with her long nails. Then, she stopped and lay her hand over him again, a gentle covering.
His voice was significantly deeper as he continued. “What I’m worried about, little devil, is seeing if my cock fits in your mouth.”
Her eyes darkened wickedly. He could smell her arousal, the heady erotic scent a potent aphrodisiac. “I thought we’d already discovered that. I remember you fitting quite…snugly.”
His eyes slammed closed at her apt description, an expression of pain crossed his face. “True. But see, we haven’t done the best experiment. If your mouth is as tight as it is now, how are you going to handle all of me?” His cock leapt in her hand and she squeezed him again, sending a flurry of undeniably wonderful pressure to his cock. Unable to keep from kissing her any longer, he leaned down and found her cheek. Her breathing was as erratic as his, he was happy to learn. A sheen of perspiration coated her neck and he doubted it was from the lukewarm heat in the air.
“Wicked, wicked man,” she said, her voice sounding weakened and defeated.
When he’d kissed all along her cheek, he moved to her jawline, then up to her neck. He was getting lost in her. She consumed his thoughts and mind. All he wanted was to get her naked and take her. She wasn’t just any woman; she was something special. And he needed to claim her.
“Pen,” he groaned, his voice cracking.
Her hand cupped him fully, fingers tracing the lines of him. As much as he hated it, he snatched her wrist. “Stop.” A drop of sweat dripped down his temple.
“Why?” She looked wild and sexy and beautiful.
He struggled to find reason. “Because I have to go back to the party. I have a speech to give and—”
She squeezed the head of his cock and his hips jerked forward. “Damn it, Pen. You have to let me go.” His arse muscles clenched to stave off the impending release he craved.
Her words were muffled. “Do I?” she asked coyly, dreamy. She touched him again but this time softer. After only a few seconds of this new, gentle caress, he realized he still might erupt. He grabbed her wrist again.
“No,” he gritted out.
Her eyes snapped open, challenging. “No?” she repeated, louder.
Bloody hell.
His gut sank as he realized he might have just made a big mistake.
Penelope slammed her hands into his chest shoving him back. “What the fuck, Pen?” he cursed.
But then she dropped to her knees and his mouth dropped. She watched him with sultry, fuck me eyes as she slowly pulled open his black leather belt. He had plenty of time to stop her. But that thought didn’t spring to mind. Not for even a second.
He could see the slopes of her breasts heaving as she panted, could see the gleam of wetness on her bottom lip.
Ziiiiiip.
Down went his zipper.
Except for the rustle of clothes and their heavy breathing there was no sound. Where had all his big speeches gone? They’d abandoned him the moment she dropped to her knees. Lord, maybe even sooner.
Warm, smooth fingers curled around his cock. She made a cooing sound and rubbed her cheek against him. Puckered lips and looking like she was in love, it was a hell of a sight. One he planned to take to the grave with him.
But—real life intruded in a big way. He had to put a stop to this. He was at a public, royal and military gathering. He couldn’t get caught with Penelope sucking him off; it would be even more devastating for her than for him. Plus, he remembered where this had gotten him last time. And he wasn’t doing a renewal.
That’s what he told himself, but what came out of his mouth was something else.
“If you don’t finish me and end this now…” His threat hung in the hair. “I don’t have the—” Control, he thought, but said, “Time to stay away all night. I have a speech to give and a crowd to greet.”
“Hmm,” she mumbled. “Interesting.”
She sounded anything but.
She was staring at his cock having finally tugged his trousers down to his ankles. The cooler breeze felt stark in contrast to his blazing hot cock which was fully charged and ready to go. There was nothing like the feeling of having a gorgeous woman look at your erect cock like she was planning all the ways to make it come. He squared his hips, then his shoulders, masculine posturing that posed his manhood to her. He wanted her to see him, to see what she could have, to see how much pleasure he would give her, if only she agreed to be his.
She made a ring around him with her fingers and trailed them up and down his shaft. Stomach muscles bunched violently as pleasure shot down to his balls and out through his cock where he leaked.
She made sexy cooing sounds while licking a long path up his cock. The wet, soft glide stole his attention. It made him forget he was trying to get away from her addicting touch and back to the party. It lasted for all of two seconds.
Until she said, “I would like to place a bet.”
Up and down she stroked him, alternating between hand and mouth, working him into a promising rhythm. Instead of throwing his head back in ecstasy like he wanted to, he watched her carefully. Not a bad sight for sore eyes.
“What kind of bet?” he managed to say. “I don’t gamble.” Normally.
Stroke, stroke. “Let’s bet to see if I can make you come. In less than five minutes.”
His eyes widened. “Brilliant idea. I’ll take that bet to win, now begin.” With a growl in his voice he tucked a fist around her long, blonde hair for grip. Now that he had her head under his control he pushed his hips forward so his cock grazed her lips.
Sharp fingernails cut into his hips and she pushed him back, chuckling softly. “What you haven’t realized yet, Ryon, is that I’m in control here.”
His back snapped straight, though he didn’t lose his grip in her hair. “That’s a load of lies.”
But she didn’t respond. She did something far more wicked, and pleasurable, instead.
She opened her sweet mouth and wrapped her wet, velvety tongue around his cock. Lapped and swirled around his sensitive tip. Soft lips created a wet cocoon so heavenly—stifling his meandering thoughts. A low groan escaped him as his breaths charged. Slowly, her tongue stroked him and her mouth engulfed him, sliding further and further down his shaft. Taking him all in. Her lips spread wide around his girth. The sight of her pink lips wrapped around his shaft made his cock twitch with arousal.
This wouldn’t take long. Not that he was proud of that. He’d been going on nothing but his hand and blue balls for days, or rather, years, if you counted no sex. He needed this release.
When he praised her tongue skills, she moaned and cooed some more, vibrating his cock. Wicked. Delicious. His thighs tensed.
“Nice and slow,” he said, wishing it could last forever. Wet, suctioning heat sucking him up and down over and again, was almost too much.
Penelope moaned as he popped free from her mouth. She ran her hand up his wet shaft, pumping him while her tongue lapped at his spongy head.
“Suck me. Deep. Don’t
stop,” he panted. Lord, he was going to come. Just a little more…and he’d explode. Hell, he’d make it up to her later if she but finished him now.
Her mouth swallowed him whole, tongue slick and stroking. A growl took him as his orgasm neared—hard and ready. He fell into the rhythm of erotic ecstasy; into age-old, primitive emotions. Using his grip in her hair and his hips, he began working his cock in and out of her mouth. He loved watching it disappear then reappear. She let him do it for only a moments before cutting him with her nails again. A warning.
“Hold on and let me see.” What was the sound?
Ice filled his veins.
Was that—did he just hear—people on the other side of the door? Cursing, he tried to remember if he’d thrown the lock or not.
“Someone’s here,” Penelope whispered. Fear turned her face pale as a sheet. “You didn’t lock the door at my dressing room!”
The door handle jiggled. Click. It wouldn’t turn. The man pounded his fist against the door. “Who’s in there? Whoever it is you’re not supposed to be in there. I’m getting a key straight away!”
Shit. Damn. Bloody murder. There weren’t enough curse words to cover how he felt about this interruption.
“God damnit.”
When she sucked him down the back of her throat, his vision wavered. She started bobbing up and down, her mouth a hot, tight vice of suction that was leading him into dangerous territory.
Voice hoarse, he gritted out, “You have to stop before this becomes a mess for us all. Pen!” He tugged on her hair to send her a message to pull away, but she only brought her hand into the mix, stroking his cock in tandem with her mouth sucking on his tip.
His balls tightened into heavy, full sacks. His manhood pulsed in her mouth. There was stomping out in the hallway and loud, raised voices. They were coming in here and nothing he could do would stop that now. Whoever was there was causing quite a raucous over this.
