I wanted him to stop. I would die if he did.
My conflicting feelings made me whimper as those elegant fingers trailed up my thigh, agonizingly slow.
“Shh, don’t fret.” A rough whisper against my ear. “We are going to take care of you now.”
My moan held a broken edge as his fingers dove beneath my underthings, stroking me. Oh, how could something so wrong feel so good? My hips canted up, need gnawing at me like a savage beast. He indulged me, sinking two fingers inside me. A soft whine escaped me at the sudden intrusion. Not enough. I wanted more, pressing againsthim in a near frenzy. I needed him to fill me, to thrust inside me in that relentless rhythm my body somehow craved.
“Oh, Baradaz,” Belekoroz growled, his fingers twisting, pressing against a spot that sent shockwaves of pleasure through me. “You are so wet for me. So eager for my cock.” His hungry mouth trailed over the line of my jaw. “When did you start thinking of fucking me?” he breathed on my skin. “During our dance?”
The truth tumbled from my lips before I could stop it. “When you kissed my hand.”
“Ah.” A deep, satisfied sound escaped him. He did not taunt me with the admission of my desire, his hands finding my dress instead, pushing it up even more, baring me for him. The cold air of the Other whispered against my heated skin.
“Oh,lyr.” My fevered exclamation as he dropped to his knees was close to a sob, my hands clawing at his shoulders. He was going to pleasure me with his mouth again. The mere thought of that insolent tongue between my legs incinerated the last pitiful remnants of my control. Sparks of my power rose in the air around us, reflecting endlessly on the gleaming black stone.
Belekoroz noted it, his eyes gleaming as he pressed a kiss to my stomach. “Are you going to take my side regarding thelyr-stones?” His voice was deceptively conversational, considering his position.
“What?” I didn’t even understand the words, my mind too clouded with lust.
He laughed, the puff of hot breath against the thin material of my underthings making my hips buck. “I think it’s only fair if our little arrangement is mutually beneficial in every way,” he explained, fingers dipping beneath the fabric, dragging it down. “It would be invaluable if you helped me against M’tar during the next Council discussions.”
Oh, that bastard. Trying to use my desire against me. Too bad he did not know I had already planned to take his side without any incentive. Not that I was above reaping the rewards now.
My fingers combed through the silky strands of his hair. “I could ask the king to approve an investigation of the stones,” I said hesitantly, as if I had to contemplate what exactly to offer him. “Perhaps give the task to Masir? A private mission. Without the need to inform the entire Council.” I shamelessly pushed his head against me, sighing contently when his hot mouth found me.
“Oh, I like the sound of that. And the sound of your moans even more.”
A teasing lick over the little bud at the apex of my thighs followed every word. The need inside me built up to near insanity as I watched him caress me, his tongue twirling over the perfect spot in exactly the right way. The sight of his face buried between my legs, all flushed cheeks and rapt attention to his task, sent another wave of desire through me.
He groaned. “So fucking wet and eager for me, Baradaz. Maker, you taste divine. Hot and sweet.”
I squirmed against that clever mouth as he worked me to a fever pitch, my trembling moans loud in the endless space of the Other. Soon I was beyond any words, even in the drumming connection between our minds, one thought eclipsing everything else:more, alwaysmore.
Oh, I was good at this game. And people called him cunning. I wouldn’t mind negotiating with him more often, especially if I so clearly came out on top—
“You always planned to investigate the stones.” The firm hands holding my thighs wide open tensed up, a partly disbelieving, partly annoyed flash in our connection as Belekoroz caught on to the reason for my giddy triumph.
I shook my head, not in denial, but to clear my thoughts. “You cannot blame me for seizing the opportunity.”
“Ha.” Sharp teeth sank into the soft flesh of my thigh. “I should punish you, you little minx,” he growled. “Bring you to the edge and make you beg for release.”
When he resumed his ministrations, he was merciless, teasing me until I tensed up, so close to taking the plunge, only for him to stop at the last possible moment. He was using his grip on my mind to torment me in the cruelest way possible.
“Again, and again and again,” he threatened. I groaned. Would he do this for hours if I didn’t swallow my pride and beg? I feared I knew the answer. Yet the undercurrent of amused delight I sensed from him triggered my suspicion.
“Wait,” I gasped, tightening my grip in his hair to tilt his face up to me. “You always wanted to help us, didn’t you? Against the Kritak.”
“Clever little queen,” Belekoroz laughed, something fierce awakening in his gaze as he took me in. Then he stood up.
“What are you doing?” Under any other circumstances, I would have hated the panicked whine my voice had become. He could not stop now.
I nearly sobbed with relief when he kissed me in answer. A greedy claiming of my mouth, all tongue and teeth, fueled by a relentless need that left no room for finesse.
“I need to be inside you.”
The hoarse words in my mind were my only warning as strands of power came to life around us. Not Darkness but Earth. Stone groaned and dust rained down. I fell. Strong arms caught me, setting me down on the newly made surface behind me. Belekoroz had cut out part of the hard black stone, creating a flat opening just large enough for me to lie on, caged in by stony walls. Not exactly comfortable. I couldn’thave cared less, though; his hands were on my dress next, another flash of magic ripping it off me. He was even less careful with his own tunic and breeches. All my protests died as I took in his face—eyes alight with the darkest of flames, a hungry smile showing glinting teeth.
“Better,” he said as he took in my naked form, sprawled before him like an offering on an altar. One long-fingered hand closed around my wrists above my head, pressing me down as he moved above me. His other hand grabbed his cock, hard and straining in his grip. Oh, yes. I writhed beneath him, so ramped up that for a moment I feared the initial stretch as he slowly entered me would make me climax immediately. The thought devastated me. I needed him properly buried inside me, filling me. Why couldn’t the cursed man just move?
