“Please!” she finally cried. “Please, please, Lyon!”
He liked the sound of his name on her lips, even if she’d forgotten his title. As a reward for pleasing him, he sucked hard on her pleasure nub, and smiled as she stiffened around his head, screaming her release. He lapped up the sweet cream that gushed out of her until she was limp.
“That was,” she gasped, not caring that she sounded desperately inexperienced. “I have no words.”
Lyon smiled. “You need none.” He pushed his hose down, hooked Cordova’s ankles around his shoulders, and plunged inside her. They gasped simultaneously, and then Lyon began thrusting, not nearly as gentle as he’d been before. He could feel her inner walls gripping his shaft tightly, trying to hold him as he moved inside her, creating the most delicious friction between them.
Cordova’s nails dug into the wood beneath her, her long hair spread out across the piano, her head tilted back to expose the white column of her throat. She was utterly helpless in this position, and could do nothing but lie back and let him pound his shaft into her.
No, that wasn’t true. Lifting her head, she slid her hand down to where they were joined and made a “V” with her middle and forefingers over her softness so she could feel his shaft sliding against her fingers as he worked it inside of her. Watching the hard length of him move in and out, in and out, was one of the most erotic things she’d ever seen. She circled her fingers around him lightly, enjoying the feel of his hot, hard shaft pulsing wetly against her palm.
Lyon groaned at the feel of her hand around him, and knew he needed more. Pulling out, he gripped Cordova by the hips and pulled her off the piano, then pushed her to her knees.
Eyes impossibly wide, Cordova stared at his glistening shaft, which bobbed hungrily in front of her face. “What am I to do?”
Lyon’s fingers threaded through her hair. “Take it,” he commanded, pushing his hips toward her. “In your mouth.”
Cordova swallowed nervously, licking her lips as she gripped the base of his shaft with her hand. He was so big. Would he be able to fit in her mouth? She’d heard rumors about men demanding this sort of thing from their women, and all of the stories had sounded so very distasteful.
But he had knelt between her legs and given her pleasure, so it seemed only fair that she return the favor. Not that she had a choice in the matter. She was his mistress, fated to do all that pleased him.
A drop of seed glistened at the slit, and Cordova licked the mushroom head, tasting his creamy saltiness. She smiled as he gave a full-body shudder, realizing suddenly that she held an enormous amount of power in her hand. She could make him beg just as he had made her do so.
She licked the underside of his shaft, dragging her tongue from base to tip, then swirling it around the mushroom head. His fingers tightened in her hair, urging her forward, but she resisted, continuing to tongue him relentlessly without actually taking him into her mouth.
“Woman,” Lyon finally growled. “If you don’t cease this torment, I will pull you over my knee and spank you.”
The image those words conjured was evocative rather than threatening, and Cordova had to fight back a giggle at the note of desperation in his voice. He didn’t quite beg, but then he was the King. She would take what she could get.
Smiling, she gave one last lick to the head, and then slid him into her mouth whole. Lyon’s deep groan was so filled with lust that she shivered involuntarily. His shaft pulsed hotly inside her mouth, and she began sucking, dragging her lips up and down his full length, delighting in the flavor of not only him, but herself.
“Gods, yes.” Lyon fisted her long, dark hair as he watched her suck his shaft hungrily. He was riveted by her jewel-bright eyes that watched him with a mixture of amusement and desire as she worked her tongue, lips and teeth on him. Soon he was gripping her temples and pumping his hips, thrusting into her mouth. She took him without complaint, fondling his sac with one hand as she pleasured him, and soon he was shouting her name, spewing his hot seed into her mouth.
Cordova swallowed every last drop, then sat back on her heels and wiped her lips from her fingertips. The look of pure rapture on the King’s face swelled her with desire. She’d never thought to feel so smug or accomplished about bringing a man to such pleasure. Was this why mistresses were so willing to lie between the sheets with a man they could not marry? No, surely not. Some of the men she’d seen at court were homely as sin— they had nothing to offer a woman besides their vast coffers.
“For a virgin,” Lyon said as he pulled his hose up. “You are remarkably skilled.”
Cordova lifted a shoulder. “When one lives in the country, the innocence of the mind is quickly lost. I have heard enough about the act to get an idea of how it is done.”
Lyon chuckled. “Such a… clinical way of putting it. Were you not writhing in my arms a scant few minutes ago, begging for me to give you release?”
Cordova blushed, and said nothing, rising to her feet and smoothing her dress around her hips, obscuring her lovely body once again. He frowned.
“Will you really refuse the garments I have provided you?” he inquired. “I really do loathe that dress.”
Cordova lifted a shoulder. “I might consider wearing them… under one condition.”
Lyon raised a brow. “And that would be?” Normally he wouldn’t consider her demands, but he was in good spirits just now.
“I… there is not very much to do here,” Cordova admitted. “I should like some books to read, or some cloth and a needle and thread to embroider with. Anything to alleviate the tedium during your absences.
The King frowned. He certainly did not want her to be idle—unoccupied women could become dangerous. “I will arrange something for you.”
****
The next morning, after Cordova had dressed and broken her fast, she entered the drawing room to discover a pleasant surprise—an entire shelf had been installed next to the piano, crammed full of books. Her heart swelled with joy as she rushed over to inspect them—there was some of everything, from philosophical texts to encyclopedias to poetry.
“Oh, this is wonderful,” she breathed, pulling out a leather bound with gilded pages. She took several books from the shelf and brought them with her to the settee, where she was greeted by another surprise—a large, cloth bag. Setting the books aside, she pulled out balls of yarn, spools of thread, cloth, and needles.
“How generous,” she murmured, running her hands over a particularly vibrant ball of yarn—the green was the exact shade of her eyes. The King hadn’t made any excuses when she’d hurled her accusations at him, but his behavior belied them all the same. She hadn’t expected him to be so… tender? She wasn’t sure that was the right word. But he was certainly being very kind to her considering that this was supposed to be her punishment. When he’d first declared that she was to be his mistress, she’d envisioned being locked away in some dark chamber, perhaps even chained and at his mercy. But although she was locked away, her chambers were spacious, and she was allowed to live in comfort.
And she didn’t have to deal with the obnoxious Lady Grey anymore. Oh, what a boon this was turning out to be!
****
Weeks passed, in which King Lyon made love to her regularly, saturating her life with pleasure. Often she would spend the waning hours of the afternoon in a state of lustful anticipation, awaiting his arrival. He had become an addiction to her—she loved the feel of his hands and mouth on her, the way his calluses scraped against her smooth skin, his husky groans of pleasure.
Even more, he made her feel cherished. Oh, there were no words of love from him, and she expected none. But he lavished her with gifts—a jeweled comb here, a ruby necklace there, a gilt rose. He still refused to provide her with a more modest wardrobe, but she’d grown used to wearing the low-cut, form fitting gowns. It wasn’t as though anyone else ever saw her, and the hot, hungry look that fired his eyes when they alighted on her cleavage was worth it. She loved it wh
en he looked at her like that.
Nevertheless, she still missed her family. Often she would wake in the middle of the night after having a particularly lovely dream about them, and the reality of her situation would crash down upon her shoulders. She couldn’t stop the tears from coming during those times, and it was worse if Lyon happened to be abed with her. He would offer her wordless comfort, never once asking as to what troubled her, and it was awful because she both cared for him and despised him for keeping her from those she loved most.
Lyon knew all this, of course, and every day that passed the guilt grew stronger within him. For he had come to care for her deeply as well, and it was not easy for him to see her suffer. He’d intercepted a letter from her mother, and upon opening it was surprised at the warmth in the greeting—the words were infused with love and gratitude, certainly nothing he’d ever received from his grandfather. And there had been no hint of deception, no evidence to suggest that either of them were plotting against the Crown. It was petty of him to continue to hold her, and though he was no stranger to committing petty acts, this one nagged at his conscious.
He came to her that afternoon, bearing a manila envelope.
“What is that?” Cordova asked, frowning uneasily. She disliked the melancholy look in his eyes.
Lyon handed it to her. “See for yourself.”
Cordova opened the envelope and carefully unfolded the letter. Her jaw dropped as she scanned the contents—it was a proclamation declaring her cleared of all charges and released from her sentence.
“You…” she lifted her shocked gaze to him. What could she say to this, when she wasn’t sure herself as to how she felt about it?
Lyon shrugged. “You are released from your service to me. I know you have been wishing to return to your family.”
She should be ecstatic but with a torrent of emotions swirling inside of her heart, she could barely find the words. “I don’t know what to say.”
Lyon arched a brow, a hint of a smile on his face. But his eyes, blank of all emotion, told the true story. He didn’t care one way or the other if she left him. “You’d best get ready.”
He started to turn away, and Cordova called out, “You seem very sure that I’ve made up my mind to go.”
Lyon whirled back, dark emotion swirling in his eyes. “You would choose a life with me, knowing that we could never marry, and that any children you bore with me would be bastards, over the constant and unchanging love of your family?”
Cordova’s lips moved, but no words came out, and the King laughed bitterly. “Don’t raise my hopes with false promises, Miss Thomas. I’ll provide you with a coach and any provisions you need for the journey.”
“Why must you be so cold?” Cordova lamented, throwing her hands up in the air. “I feel like you are tossing me to the wayside, like a broken toy you no longer have use for. Am I not desirable to you anymore?”
Lyon yanked her against him, growling, and kissed her, forcing her jaw wide as he plunged his tongue into her mouth. His kiss was brutal, punishing, and filled with a combination of longing and frustration. Even so, Cordova melted into him, her body responding with the same fervor it had when he’d first laid eyes on her.
Eventually, he pulled away. “I will always want you, Cordova,” he breathed, pushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “But I cannot stand to see you in such torment. Go to your family. Be happy.”
He turned on his heel then, and began to walk away from her. Cordova called after him once more, desperate, sorrowful. “I will come back to you.”
King Lyon paused at the threshold of the door, only turning his head slightly to the side but enough to where she caught the glistening in his eyes. “Go home to your family, Cordova. You belong with them, not with me.”
Without another word, he stepped over the threshold, and out of her life forever.
***
About The Author:
Adriana Hunter is a Canadian author who writes stories for those who live to dream. Her stories run the gamut, from romance, fantasy, paranormal to captivating stories of seductive medieval nights, and wild, adult fairytales. If you are fascinated by unique tales Adriana will deliver on her promise to create spellbinding stories that will tantalize your senses and provoke your imagination.
Other Stories By Adriana:
Red & The Wolf – Fantasy Erotica – Adult Fairytales
Pleasuring The Beast – Erotic Fantasy
Temptress – Medieval Erotic Romance
Find out more about Adriana Hunter and read her other stories at http://www.AdrianaHunter.com
King's Virgin Page 3
