Malac knew this game too. Orlann could bring her to orgasm himself—it certainly wouldn’t take long—but he’d rather watch her face, at least for now. Greedily eating up every groan and sigh. Every needy moan.
And, of course, he wanted to be able to push her over the edge himself, when the moment came.
“Princess, do you want me between your legs?” Malac leaned down to whisper. It wasn’t his game, but that didn’t mean it had no effect on him. It was impossible to see their princess so exceptionally aroused—trapped between pleasure and pain and desperate for release—and be unaffected.
Hell, Jude was probably stroking himself right now, with the feed open in front of him in his office. Gareth’s head aimed right at him, perversely forced to watch his sister’s defilement, from beyond the grave.
Maari nodded again, blinking miserably up at him.
“It would be my pleasure.”
She sighed, relieved as he moved down her body to take up a position between her thighs.
“Tongue only,” his brother warned. Because this was Orlann’s playtime, and if Malac wanted to get off, he’d have to take himself in hand. Afterward.
Malac placed a hand on each of the princess’s thighs, spreading her as wide as he could while she squirmed beneath him, desperate for contact. At the first stroke of his tongue, her pelvis came off the bed, ramming into his face with an enthusiasm that made him slam his own hips into the mattress, humping nothing but the memory of her clenched around him as the taste of her drove him wild.
“Easy now,” he murmured against her thigh, and when he looked up, he found Orlann seated next to her head, gently squeezing and massaging her breasts, keeping the nerve endings near the nipple clamps alive with that excruciating blend of pleasure and pain.
Malac went back to work, squeezing her thighs as he licked the length of her sex, dipping his tongue inside her briefly before dragging it up over swollen lips to lightly circle her clit. Her obscene moan and the vulgar undulation of her hips against him nearly brought him to release, still in his pants. With his tortured cock still trapped between his stomach and the mattress.
He bombarded Maari with sensation, carefully pulling her toward orgasm with long licks and gentle sucking on her engorged clit. With teasing circles and hard flicks.
“She’s close,” Orlann groaned, and Malac looked up to see him running his palms lightly over her distended, reddened nipples in soft circles. Maari’s head was thrown back again, her eyes closed, her lower lip trapped between her teeth. “Go ahead and let her come.”
Maari stiffened at his words, fear blending with the arousal in her scent. She knew what was coming as well as Malac did. Orlann never gave pleasure without pain, and there was no way to finish one of his games without accepting generous helpings of both.
“Are you ready, princess?” Malac whispered against her thigh.
She hesitated, and he could feel her whole frame tense as she gripped the bedpost tighter. Then she nodded.
Malac attacked her clit with long, hard strokes, licking her over and over with the full length of his tongue. Letting the texture rasp over her until she panted with every stroke. Moisture dripped from her opening, scenting the air with her arousal, and he paused to sample it. Then he returned his full attention to her clit, circling it slowly. Dragging her gradually to the peak of pleasure until she moaned and arched into him again. Begging for release.
So he closed his mouth over her clit and sucked. Hard.
Maari screamed, writhing beneath him, and he rolled his eyes up to see Orlann holding the clamps he’d removed from her nipples at the very instant of orgasm. Orlann dropped his head and sucked one nipple into his mouth and she moaned, her thighs clamped around Malac’s head, holding him in place while she rode out her release against his face.
“Fuck…” Orlann groaned. Something collided with Malac’s shoulder shoving him out of the way and onto the floor. By the time he got back to his feet, Orlann was buried balls-deep in their still-orgasming princess, thrusting into her frantically. Chasing her orgasm with his own.
Malac shoved his pants down and crawled back onto the bed near Maari’s head. The princess was gone. Utterly lost to her release. Awash in a blend of pleasure and pain so exquisite that when her jaw fell open on a gasp and he shoved his cock into her mouth, she hardly noticed. Yet long-term association with the sensation led her to suck him deeper with no conscious intent.
Malac groaned as he slid in and out of her mouth, so aroused with the taste of her still fresh on his tongue that his release felt imminent, after just a few pumps.
Orlann slammed into Maari, rocking her entire body as he swore, praising her pain threshold and tight cunt through clenched teeth. And as he roared his release, driving her to another orgasmic high, Malac shoved himself deeper into Maari’s mouth. She swallowed out of habit, and he groaned as he released down the back of her throat, her name riding his tongue like both a blessing and a curse.
Afterward, Orlann packed up his toys, while Malac stretched out beside their exhausted princess, whispering kind things into her ear. Stroking her hair as she clung to him, coming down from a pain-filled euphoric orgasm with tears and tremors.
“You got this?” Orlann asked, eyeing the two of them. When Malac wasn’t around, he often indulged the princess with soft touches and praise of his own, uttered too softly for the cameras to pick up specific words. Reserving his compliments exclusively for her comfort.
But if Malac was going to stay anyway…
“Yeah. I’ll take care of her.”
“That’s the least you owe me, after shoving your cock down her throat without permission.”
“Fuck off. You both loved it.” Malac knew damn well that having him in her throat had made Maari clamp down that much harder around his brother’s cock.
“There are rules for a reason.”
“Fuck your rules. Go away.”
“She’ll need food and something to drink. Something cold for her throat. I’ll have it sent up. And there’s cream in the bathroom, for her nipples.”
“I know the routine,” Malac informed him. “This isn’t the first time I’ve cleaned up your mess.” And frankly, he thought Orlann was crazy to let him. To give up that precious time with her, when she was most vulnerable. To be the one to bring her comfort. The one she looked at with gratitude.
The one she needed.
“Until next time.” Orlann ran one hand gently down her leg as he walked past the bed. “You did very well tonight, Maari.” Then he headed into the hall with his box of toys.
“Thank you,” she murmured into Malac’s chest when she heard the door click behind him. “It’s better when you’re here.”
Malac knew better than to believe her praise, even if her words were true. The princess understood as well as any of her princes did that the truth could manipulate just as easy as a lie.
Still, she felt amazing pressed against him. Clinging to him. Letting his scent and his warmth ease her trembling.
And for the first time in his life, Malac found that putting a woman back together could be just as satisfying as ripping an enemy apart.
15
Maari
“Did you love Elan?”
A bitter pang of nostalgia wrung Maari like a rag, and she rolled away from Malac on the bed. She was too vulnerable in the aftermath of a play session with Orlann—in the adrenaline crash—to suffer a wound like that. To deal with a reminder of what her life was supposed to be. “You don’t get to ask me about him.”
Jude would have growled at her insolence. Orlann would have smacked her bare ass. But Malac only rolled over to spoon her, slowly stroking up and down her arm. “You haven’t lost as much as you think you have. I’ve met Elan Edgar. He would not have been a good fit for you.”
“And you think you are?”
Malac was quiet for a moment, his nose pressing into her hair. Searching out her scent. “A man who’s never seen you in bliss or in agony cannot
truly know you.”
“I never had a chance to experience either of those with Elan.”
He shrugged, and their shared pillow moved with the motion. “It wouldn’t matter if you had all the time in the world with him. A man like Elan Edgar would never be able to bring you to the extreme end of any emotional pendulum arc, other than frustration. And perhaps boredom.”
“So you think I’m better off here, with the three of you. Locked up and oversexed, so you can keep hurling me from one end to the other of that arc? Fucking with my head for your own amusement?”
“Yes.” There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in Malac’s voice. “We love you, Maari.”
She rolled over, forcing some space between them so she could look at him from the opposite end of the pillow. “You don’t love me. You own me. You bought me with the promise of peace. There’s a big difference.”
“Two things can be true at the same time.”
Maari sat up, staring down at him. Studying him. “Maybe you love me.” He certainly seemed to think he did. “But Orlann just wants to play with me. And Jude… I don’t think he’s even capable of love.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because he killed my brother, right in front of me! He locked me up and threatened to lead a slaughter of more than a million people if I went back to Bannon! No man willing to bring that much pain into the world could possibly be capable of real love.”
Malac rolled onto his back, running one finger over the leg folded beneath her, from her knee to her hip. He seemed incapable of being near her without touching her. “Life isn’t as simple as you’re trying to make it sound, Maari. People aren’t just one thing. The man who taught me to hunt and kissed my mother like she was the most precious thing on all of Syrus is the same man who raped the maid who delivered his coffee and beat Orlann when he found him in bed with another boy. My father was a great man. The fact that he was also an asshole doesn’t make that any less true.”
Maari frowned. “Your father sounds like a terrible person.”
“And you think yours was different? Better? Is that what you think of Gareth? Of Jaarod, after he literally gave you to his mortal enemy, to be bred?”
“I’ve recently come to see Jaarod in another light,” Maari admitted, bitterness saturating her voice. “But my father was a good man. And Gareth was a hero. Jude turned him into a martyr. Into a legend—a king willing to die so that the rest of his kingdom could live.”
“But not before selling his sister in sexual servitude to three men at once. You’re right. Only a great man would do that.”
Maari scowled, unwilling to admit that his dart had hit its target. “Jude and the council gave him no choice.”
“So, how accurate is that legend, then?” Malac asked. “How well did the private man match the myth of the Beast of Bannon? What would his wife say, if we could ask her? Or…your handmaid?”
“Annah? What does she have to do with Gareth?”
Malac blinked at her. “If you think there was even one pretty young servant in your palace who went unfucked by the king, you’re both sorely mistaken and painfully naive. The question isn’t how many of them he took, but whether or not he forced them.”
Her focus narrowed on him. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m not.”
“How can you be so sure? Is that what Jude’s like? Has he had every pretty servant in this palace?”
“Without a doubt. As have I. All of them but your…Annah? And Orlann’s list includes all the pretty boys, as well.”
“And were they all willing?”
“Every last one,” Malac said. “Just like you’re willing.”
“So, you bite them?”
“Yes. It wears off after a couple of months, with no harm done, and while it’s in effect, their pleasure is heightened. But your brother doesn’t have that ability. If he took an unwilling maid, he left her bruised and quite possibly torn.”
“And you think it’s better to make them like it?”
“Of course.”
“You’re fucked up.” Maari pushed his hand from her leg and crawled off the bed, headed for the closet. “You’re all three completely fucked up. Especially Jude.”
“Look, I’m not saying—” Malac stood as the door opened, admitting a servant with a covered tray of food.
While the servant laid out her dinner, Maari pulled a simple red dress from the closet and tugged it over her head. “Thank you,” she said as the servant retreated with the silver dome.
“I’m not saying Jude’s a good man,” Malac continued. “I’m not saying any of us are. I can’t ask you to stop looking at me like I’m a monster. I deployed the force that killed thousands of Stead Delayne soldiers, and I’ve damn well earned my reputation, though I hope that eventually you’ll see me as more than just a monster. But I can’t stand hearing you talk about your brother as if angels play a fanfare every time someone says his name, when you talk about Jude like he’s the devil’s fucking emissary.” Malac shrugged. “You should see him with his kids.”
Maari huffed as she took a seat at the table. “He’s made it very clear that will never happen. That I can only ever occupy this one small slice of his life.”
“You understand why, don’t you? He’s trying to do what’s right by Geneva. She’s his wife. The mother of his children.”
“How is it fair that ‘doing right by Geneva’ means keeping me locked up? He could do right by us both by letting me go.”
Malac put a possessive hand on her thigh, under the table. “That is never going to happen. Even if Jude gave you up, Orlann and I wouldn’t. And as long as you’re under his roof, Jude won’t be able to resist coming to you.”
“He hasn’t even let me out of this room since the week I got here. A man who loves a woman doesn’t put her in a cage. Not even a pretty one.”
Malac sighed. “You need proof that he loves you?”
Maari shrugged. What she actually needed was far simpler. She needed freedom.
“Have you heard about Geneva’s pregnancy?” Malac asked, and she nodded again. “She’s almost three months along. It’s a boy.”
“Can they tell the gender that early?”
“Yes. But they didn’t have to run a test to know in this case, because Jude had her impregnated in vitro with a banked embryo. The week you got here.”
Maari frowned as she poked at a pre-cut medium rare sirloin with her fork. “Why would he do that?”
“Because at the time, we thought you would get pregnant quickly, and he needs his wife to give birth to a boy before you do. To ensure clear succession.”
“But Geneva doesn’t believe in conception through medical intervention. It’s against her faith.” Everyone who went to school with her knew that.
“I am aware. She still hasn’t forgiven Jude. She’s convinced this isn’t the son the Gods would have given her. The son destined by divine providence to rule, after his father’s death. She believes the Gods will take this child from her, as a punishment for trying to circumvent Their will.”
“Holy fuck. Why would Jude do that to her? How is that doing right by Geneva?”
“He didn’t vow fidelity to his wife. No king would. But he promised her, on their wedding day, that her son would inherit the crown. To make sure that actually happens, after his death, he has to ensure that Geneva gives birth to a son before you do.”
“How is this a story about how much he supposedly loves me?”
Malac leaned across the table and brushed long, dark hair over her shoulder, so that it lay against the deep red of her dress. He was always doing things like that. Posing her, for his own viewing pleasure. “You’ve already said it. The truly respectful thing to do for Geneva would have been putting off our claiming of you until he could impregnate his wife naturally. And determine that the fetus was male. But Jude wasn’t willing to do that. It killed him to wait three days, while you were in the darkcell. So, he waved a middle finger at his wife’s
religious views and ordered her impregnated by a doctor. So he could keep coming to see you.”
“Coming to fuck me, you mean. He didn’t do that because he loves me, and he certainly didn’t do it because he loves her. He did it for himself.”
Malac blinked at Maari. “He hasn’t been with his wife once since we got back from Saintton. Or with anyone else.”
“And you’re saying it’s my fault that he’s stopped sleeping with his wife?”
“No. He’s never really enjoyed her company. He married her for the political alliance, as kings are obligated to do. And while he’s always fulfilled his duty to her, he’s never come to her bed for any reason other than procreation.”
“That’s the only reason he comes here,” Maari said as she took a small bite of steak.
For the first time, Malac looked disappointed in her. “You know that’s not true.”
“I don’t, though. I’m sorry that he doesn’t love her. But he dines with her, doesn’t he? He raises children with her. He makes official appearances with her. One would assume he takes her out, on occasion.”
Malac nodded. “Yes, he’s very conscious of his obligations to his wife, and the fact that they intersect with his obligations to Loborough. The kingdom deserves royalty it can trust and admire. That’s important for the common morale.”
“He does all that for a woman he doesn’t love. And you insist that he loves me, yet he leaves my room the moment he’s done with me, with a barked order for me to lie on my back and try to make use of his sperm. I haven’t spent more than an hour at a time with him since that afternoon in the garden.” And that wasn’t exactly a day she wanted to recreate. “I don’t want to take anything from Geneva. Including her husband,” Maari insisted. “All I want, if I’m going to be stuck here, is some indication that I’m more than a broodmare. That I’m worth more than the time it takes to fuck me. If Geneva deserves that, why don’t I?”
“You do.” Malac seemed surprised by that realization. “You deserve everything she has and more, even if Jude doesn’t have that to give.” Something changed in his expression. His gaze intensified as he stared at her from across the table, and the look in his eye began to scare her. “I’ll give you what he can’t, Maari. I’ll marry you.”
Dirty Lovely Broken Page 19
