Dirty Lovely Broken

by Emmy Chandler

  Still his.

  “You could have been shot out here. You could have fallen and broken a bone. You could have been mauled by wolves. By cougars.” His hand slid over her hip and beneath her skirt, squeezing her bare ass. Clinging to lust—to his physical need for her—to push back that darkness truly driving him. That foreign state of mind he couldn’t afford to explore. To understand.

  Fear.

  He’d almost lost her. As he’d run after her, he’d felt that imminent loss like a chasm growing inside him. A vacuum sucking at his soul. Even broken, as she’d been since her brother turned on her, Maari was the brightest thing in his life, other than his daughters. He couldn’t be here without her.

  He wouldn’t.

  He lowered his zipper, and the sound froze her in place. “No. Jude, no!”

  “Shhh…” He flipped her skirt up over her back and ran his hand between thighs she pressed together. “You need this as badly as I do.” In fact, she was already wet from having him pressed against her. From breathing in his scent, along with dirt from the path. Even though his bite had to be wearing off, three months after he’d first claimed her.

  “Malac thinks he’s going to marry you.” Jude slid one arm beneath her hips and pulled her onto her hands and knees. “Is that what you want? You want to marry my little brother? Reclaim your title from whichever one of us whose cock you can charm first?” But there was no real spite in the words. His anger at Malac didn’t extend to her; if she wanted what the king’s brother had offered, she wouldn’t have run.

  Maari sobbed as she balanced her weight on both arms. “I just want to go home.”

  He pressed his cock against her, through his underwear. “You have nowhere else to go. This is your home.”

  “This is a fucking prison!” Maari snapped, then she moaned as he ground his length against her sex, saturating his underwear with her arousal.

  Jude freed his cock, then he grabbed her hips for leverage and slammed into her as hard as he could, groaning when he felt her clench around him, her body fighting to keep him inside her while her words tried to drive him away.

  “You just want to punish me for what my brother did.” She grunted, thrusting angrily back at him. “You want to make me have children who’ll grow up humiliated and ostracized by your wife, in their own home. Isolated from your other children.”

  “Nonsense,” he groaned as he pounded into her, driving her knees into the packed ground, skinning her palms on the path. “Even if that were true, it’s no excuse to—”

  “You all hate me!”

  Jude froze, buried deep inside her. His grip on her hips softened. Then he withdrew from her and turned her over, dropping her into the dirt on her back. Looming over her, his cock hot and wet against her belly, where her dress had ridden up. “Do you really believe that?”

  She glared up at him through eyes that looked almost gold, in the dappled afternoon sunlight. “What else am I supposed to think?”

  “We don’t hate you, Maari.”

  She swiped at grime smeared across her chin. “I don’t believe—”

  Jude spread her legs wide and slid into her again, rocking against her pelvis. Thrusting in short, hard strokes that rubbed that sensitive spot inside her. Watching as her anger was overtaken by lust. As she fought to keep her eyes from glazing over. “We don’t hate you,” he swore softly as he gazed down at her.

  “Well, I hate you,” she grunted as his next thrust pushed her backward in the dirt.

  “I know. And I understand why.” He adjusted his angle, brushing against her clit with every stroke, and Maari moaned. “I wish I could hate you back. This would be a lot easier for me if I were just grudge-fucking a prisoner of war. Geneva wouldn’t hate us both, if that’s all this was.”

  She groaned, and Jude could see her fighting to maintain her focus as her hips thrust up at him. “What do you call this, if not a grudge-fuck?”

  “I need you.” The admission flayed him open, exposing his tender insides to a cruel world. To a woman who had no way of understanding what he was truly telling her and had every right to despise him. “I fucking need you, and I’m not going to let you go. Not ever.”

  Maari sobbed as her legs wound around him, her entire body clutching at him. Clinging to him. He could see conflicting urges and emotions clashing in her eyes. He could practically feel how overwhelmed and confused she was.

  Jude lowered himself until his body was flush against her. Pressing her into the dirt as he slid in and out of her in slow, seductive strokes. “Stay with me, Maari. Stay here for me. Give yourself to me, and I will give you as much of myself as I can, in return.”

  “It’s not enough,” she insisted as that blissful tension began to build inside her, tightening around her with every stroke of his cock inside her. Every brush of his pelvis against her clit. With every word he whispered into her ear.

  Into her heart.

  “I know.” He cried out as she came around him, ruthlessly gripping his cock with her inner muscles, ripping his release from him with as much regret as pleasure.

  Spent, they collapsed into the dirt, and Jude pulled her against him as he brushed hair over her shoulder. “I know this isn’t enough for you,” he whispered, his arm tightening around her waist. “But it’s all I have to give.”

  17

  Maari

  “Through here.” Orlann led Maari through another open door with one hand on her lower back. She’d never been in this wing of the palace before. She wasn’t even sure what this wing was. But this little field trip, along with the tantalizing aromas emanating from the small fully-laden table in front of her, made her doubt Orlann’s claim that tonight was her punishment for running. For using Jude’s daughter in her attempted escape.

  For charging headfirst into potential mortal danger, in the hunting grounds. Not that she’d known other people had permission to hunt on the palace grounds.

  The punishment aspect of this evening seemed especially dubious, considering that Orlann had already brought her to orgasm before fitting her with his special new toy—a toy she still wore—in preparation for tonight. To “take the edge off.”

  Jude cleared his throat as Orlann took his place at the table. “Have a seat, Maari.”

  She gazed suspiciously at the chair that had been left for her, next to Malac. Across from Jude and Orlann. Dinner alone with the three of them still didn’t seem like much of a punishment.

  Dinner with wine.

  Maari had missed wine, and it was the half-full glass in front of her plate that finally convinced her to sit. She winced as the hard surface of the chair shifted the multi-pronged toy in both her pussy and her ass, and suddenly she understood the punishment aspect of this meal. Nudity and a hard chair, combined with a large double plug they all knew she was wearing.

  This was a humiliation punishment.

  But the joke was on them. Maari had already been humiliated by the Camden brothers more times than she could even count, and sitting here was no worse than being paraded down the hall on the way to the private dining room, so that the servants could see the plug peeking between her ass cheeks. Extending forward to cradle her clit.

  Also, there was wine. Maari would endure a weird toy every night, if they kept giving her wine.

  She reached for her glass, but her hand paused the moment her fingers brushed the smooth lower curve. What if this was a trick? Or a test? She hadn’t been given wine since that horrible afternoon in the garden. “Is this really for me?”

  “Of course,” Jude said. “As is the plate in front of you.” A plate piled high with roast beef, pickled beet and carrot salad, brussels sprouts sautéed with walnuts and dried cranberries, and a fresh, hot roll, dripping with butter.

  Maari lifted the glass and held it beneath her nose so she could inhale the aroma. Her mouth watered. She put the glass to her lips, and the very moment the first taste of wine exploded across her tongue, the dildo jolted to life inside her.

  Maari
jumped out of her chair, startled, sloshing wine over the rim of her glass.

  Jude looked up at her, one eyebrow cocked. “Have you forgotten how a wine glass functions, after a few weeks of sobriety?”

  “No, I—” She turned to Orlann and found him watching her in amused anticipation. One of his hands lay on the table, closed around something, and as she watched, he squeezed his fist.

  Immediately, the vibration strengthened, jolting her again. She pressed her thighs together, hoping the pressure would stop the vibration, but that only sent the sensation echoing deeper inside her.

  “Princess,” Malac said, and she turned her silent appeal to him, begging him with her eyes to make it stop. But he only blinked up at her, and his smile held little of its usual warmth. He was still mad at her for running. For what he saw as a personal rejection. “Sit and join us.”

  A bolt of betrayal squeezed her chest as she sat, and she gave him a panicked look as the hard surface of the chair compounded the very intimate sensation vibrating inside her cunt. And spearing her rear. “Are you really going to make me sit here and orgasm in front of all three of you?” she demanded softly. “At dinner?”

  Malac lifted one brow at her, and in that moment, Maari saw more resemblance to Jude than she’d ever noticed before. “I’m not making you do anything,” he informed her. “I’m not the one holding the remote.”

  Maari turned to Orlann just as he clicked a button hidden in his palm again. Her breath hitched as a new vibration began—centered directly over her clit. “Oh…” Her hand clenched around the stem of her wine glass, and she set it down, before she could accidentally break it. “Please don’t make me do this.”

  Orlann lifted his fork to his mouth and chewed a bite of beef while he watched her.

  “Jude. Please,” she begged, turning to the king. “Please don’t let him do this.”

  Jude shrugged. “Dinner with the three of us, or a week in the darkcell. Your choice.”

  Maari groaned. “Fine.” She turned back to Orlann, gritting her teeth as an intimate pressure began to build in response to the friction on her clit. Causing her muscles to tighten around the vibrating faux-cock. “What are the rules?” Because Orlann’s games always had rules. “I can’t eat until I’ve orgasmed in front of you?”

  “Oh, no. That would be way too easy.” Orlann lifted his fork, and the bite of beef he’d speared dripped juice onto his plate. “There’s only one rule in this game: you are not allowed to come before dinner is over.”

  Maari blinked at him in surprise. Her eyes narrowed and she shrugged. Then she picked up her fork and speared a half-globe of brussels sprout, trying to pretend that the attention her clit was getting wasn’t affecting her at all. “Fine. Then I guess we’ll all just enjoy a normal, non-orgasmic dinner.” As normal as any meal could be, while one person at the table wore a multi-faceted sex toy, in lieu of clothing.

  She raised her bite toward her mouth—and the part of the toy in her pussy began to move against her inner walls. Rotating slowly inside the narrow passage. She gasped as it brushed her g-spot, and her hand clenched around the fork so hard that it bruised her fingers.

  “That’s not fair,” Maari moaned. She leaned back in the chair, and that position put more pressure on her rear, driving the plug deeper into her ass, but it mercifully relieved some of the friction on her clit. “I— I can’t eat like this.”

  “That’s fine,” Jude said around a bite of his roll. “But that doesn’t mean the meal is over. You are not dismissed.”

  She groaned as she set her fork on the edge of her plate and closed her eyes. But the lack of visual stimuli made it impossible to think about anything but what was happening to the sensitive bundle of nerves connecting every part of her lower regions, driving her slowly, steadily toward a peak she was not ready to meet.

  “Sit up, princess,” Malac said as he lifted his own glass of wine. “I would have thought you’d learned proper posture in that fancy school you went to.”

  “Please,” she whispered, still slouched in her chair, trying to spare her clit even as the dildo hit her g-spot over and over, tightening the tension in her muscles as she tried to slow the inevitable hurtle toward release. “Please, Malac, don’t make me—”

  “Sit. Up,” he ordered. “You will not disrespect the king by slouching at his table.”

  She glanced at Jude, and he shrugged, declining to overrule his brother’s order.

  Maari groaned as she sat up, pressing the moving dildo farther into her as the vibration over her clit intensified. She clutched at the edge of the table, trying to ground herself with the feel of the wood beneath her fingers. “When is the meal over? Please tell me there’s no dessert.”

  “You are dessert,” Jude informed her. And while such a proclamation would have been met with a mixture of dread and arousal at any other time, the only meaning she could parse from his statement in that moment was that she only had to make it through this main course.

  Yet there Malac sat, sipping his wine. Watching her. He’d hardly touched his food.

  “Please,” she begged him again, fighting to relax her muscles. To slow the buildup of tension that would eventually shove her over the edge, whether she had permission to come or not. “Please eat faster.”

  “I’m afraid I’m just not very hungry right now.” Malac shrugged at her, and Orlann laughed out loud.

  “That’s fine. It’s fine,” she snapped, her nails digging into the edge of the table. “I’m fine. Take your time.”

  Malac winked at her and finally ate a bite of his beet and carrot salad. Chewing very…slowly.

  For several minutes, they sat like that, eating in silence. Watching as fine drops of sweat began to form at Maari’s temple and between her breasts. She breathed evenly, counting to three with each inhalation, because if she lost control of her lungs, she would start panting.

  And then it was all over.

  “She’s doing very well, don’t you think?” Jude asked with a glance at his middle brother as the king lifted his last bite of steak toward his mouth. “Maybe a little too well?”

  “I agree.” Orlann pressed a button on his unseen remote, and the plug in Maari’s ass began to…grow.

  “Oh, fuck,” she groaned as the feeling of fullness—of pressure—stimulated the sensitive nerve endings around her back channel. Her body clenched around both toys, and as the plug began to take up more space, the dildo was forced forward in its passageway. Which made each brush against her g-spot more effective. “Please. Please stop,” she begged.

  “We’re almost done eating,” Orlann said. “You can make it a few more minutes.”

  Maari glanced at their plates, each in turn and she saw that Jude, indeed, was almost finished. Orlann still had a few bites of beef left, and a quarter of his roll. But Malac’s plate was still half-full.

  “Please. I’m sorry for running. Really sorry. Just please turn it off.”

  “No,” Orlann said around a bite of bread.

  “Please! I’m sorry!”

  Malac snorted. “You certainly will be, before this meal is over.”

  Maari squirmed, trying to find a position that offered some relief from the pressure and friction pushing her toward orgasm. She gripped the edge of the table and scooted forward in her seat, until only her tailbone remained on the edge of her chair. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” she murmured, eyes closed in concentration. Then her eyes flew open and she gave Malac a desperate look, as she began to pant. “I can’t stop it. I can’t. I—”

  “Maari!” Jude barked, and she turned to him, startled. “You. Will. Not. Come. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” She nodded frantically. “Not until dinner’s over. I understand.” Her mouth fell open and every breath became a desperate gasp. “Oh, gods,” she moaned as the friction against her clit built to an excruciating peak. The dildo began to rotate faster, brushing her g-spot over and over, and when her muscles began to clench, the pressure of the swol
len plug became a blissful agony. “Oh, fuck…” she groaned. “I can’t wait. What happens if I fail? If I can’t hold it back?”

  “If we have to punish you for failing your punishment?” Malac said, while Orlann watched her with a ravenous glee, feeding as much from her torment as from her arousal. “We all three take you at once.”

  “Hard,” Jude added. “But we’re not going to have to do that, are we? Because you’re going to be a good girl. You’re going to wait until Malac finishes his dinner, then you’re going to come all over that chair, while we watch you.”

  “Please eat,” Maari growled, her voice a guttural plea for mercy as she squirmed on the edge of the chair.

  “Wait.” Jude turned a contrived frown on Malac. “You don’t even like brussels sprouts, do you? Well, I’m not going to make you eat them, if you don’t like them. Which means you just need to finish your roll.”

  “Yes. Eat the damn bread,” Maari begged, as moisture began to leak out around the dildo to drip on the floor between her feet. “I can’t wait anymore. It’s going to happen if you don’t turn this thing off,” she warned Orlann.

  “Well, that would be unfortunate for you,” Jude said. “Because if we have to take you together, your ass is mine.”

  Maari groaned, picturing his massive cock—the thickest of the three, and certainly much larger than any toy Orlann had ever slid inside her.

  “Look.” Malac lifted what remained of his roll. “Last bite. Let me just get a little butter…” He scraped a bit of butter from the molded pat in front of his plate and spread it on his bread. But before he could put it in his mouth, Orlann pressed something on the remote again, and the plug in her ass began to vibrate.

  The sound that wound its way up Maari’s throat as the orgasm ripped through her was part howl and part guttural denial. Her head fell back, her eyes closed, as the toy wrung an agonizing, rapturous release from her, echoing throughout the web of nerve endings inside her, wrapped around every intimate part of her. Forcing pleasure from each of them in synchrony.