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Under the fucking table.
“No wiggling, Dolcezza,” Zander gleefully encourages as he stills her in place by pressing on her upper thighs and spreading them as widely as they can go. “Your King is hungry. So, let him feast.”
Fucking God.
I can see peeks of Ares’ head between her legs. She squirms and caves to the point her hand shoots out and stills Ares’ head by the grip of his tousled locks. She’s then lifting her hips, giving him complete access as he eats her out like she’s the sweetest dessert he’s ever enjoyed.
“A-Ares.” She’s breathing out of control while she whimpers, moans, and gasps. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she curses as if it’s going to stop the inevitable, but I can already see how she grows rigid and holds her breath.
Trying to resist her climax, which is a thrust away.
“One more, Dolcezza. Come undone for us,” Zander approves and slaps her left tit. He follows by pinching her nipple between his fingers.
She loses it right there, and it’s enough to make me grunt loudly as the rush of blood and my tight grip at the base of my shaft are enough to send me over the edge.
“Fuck,” I curse loudly and endure the strongest orgasm I’ve endured by my own fucking hand.
Did this fucking happen?
Iva is completely out of breath, resting against Zander, who’s smirking from ear to ear while straightening out Iva’s shirt.My fucking shirt.From the shuffles beneath the table, I hear the way Ares intentionally licks his lips like he’s enjoying the sloppiest burger in the world.
“Now, you’re such a sweet, generous Canary, Verena,” he praises, using her other name. “Thank you for dessert.”
The doors open then, and Jeffrey is back with a small strawberry parfait. The maid from before takes advantage by coming back in, which pisses me off.
Especially with how she looks at me with some sort of dismay.
Or disgust.
“Did I not say to come back after dessert?” I snap at her, making her flinch.
Jeffrey pays no mind to my tantrum or any of our positions as he lays the plate before Iva and bows to each of us. He leaves silently while the maid trembles in place.
“I-I apologize, my Lord, but Margo insisted I return and ensure the shoes fit so you four can make your way to the royal courtyard,” she rambles quickly.
“You stupid cun—” I try to finish, but Ares interrupts me.
“They fit,” he declares from under the table, forcing us to watch him come from under the red dining cloth to present the pair of plaid shoes with the signature red painted bottoms.
The maid’s face goes crimson as she watches Ares rise from the floor and slowly lick his lips.
“Go tell Margo we’ll be heading out shortly,” Ares instructs as he places the shoes on his side of the table. “Our maiden just has to help us clean up.”
I see how flustered Iva gets at Ares’words, and she slowly looks my way. Her eyes descend on me, from my face to my crotch, where I’m still holding my cock that’s dripping with my semen.
I’m waiting for her disgust or dismay that flooded the maid’s eyes earlier, but Iva always enjoys taunting me.
She dares show a glimmer of desire in those mystical eyes of hers.
Her frown is nothing compared to how her eyes are glued to my cock, which twitches and grows erect simply by her lingering gaze.
Which pisses me the fuck off.
“What are you waiting for?” I bark at her and arch an eyebrow her way. “Come and clean up the mess you made, Ivanka.”
My voice is stern with bites of fury, and it ignites that hatred glare that steals away the dancing emotions of lust and desire. I regret saying shit, but I remember I’m the one in control of this rodeo.
Not her.
