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“Fuck that.”
“No, fuck me.”
“My thoughts exactly, you idiot.”
“All in good time.”
Rand growled low in his throat. “Tease.”
Braeden gripped Rand’s zipper, tugging it down. His cock sprang free and Braeden’s laugh caressed over the taut, swollen head before his mouth followed suit. The suction was perfect and sublime. He rocked his hips, his hand riding the back of Braeden’s head. A faint rustling noise slipped past the edges of his awareness. Lifting his focus from his lover’s bobbing motions, he locked stares with Vanessa. Her pupils were huge and dark, her nipples straining against her top. His cock pulsed, swelling inside Braeden’s mouth, earning an appreciative moan from his lover.
“I—I’m sorry. Didn’t realize…” Her hard swallow echoing in the room, Vanessa started to turn tail and run.
“Stay.”
Her foot hovering in mid-spin, she gaped at Rand. “What?”
“Watch. You know you want to.”
Her cheeks grew redder than the anthurium blooms behind her. “That’s ridiculous. I have no interest in—” She broke off when Braeden reached inside Rand’s pants and played with his balls.
She was going nowhere.
Duty…or desire? It will take two men to answer that question…
Wicked Empress
© 2011 Anitra Lynn McLeod
The Onic Empire, Book 4
Bithia, newly crowned empress of Diola, indulges herself with as many men as it takes to satisfy her voracious passion. Now that it’s time to continue the family line, though, her advisors expect the unthinkable: for her to submit to one man from a sexually primitive planet.
Drahka disobeyed his tribe’s strict sexual rules once. The shame still haunts him. He longs for a fresh start, but breaking one cardinal rule—a man gives, a woman takes—is not an option. His struggle to learn local customs is complicated by a mentor whose eyes hunger for the empress…and for him.
Viltori is exhausted. He’s tried to teach Drakha that there many ways to find pleasure, only to be met with anger, even violence. Touching the handsome primitive only sharpens his unbearable lust for Bithia, making him wonder if execution for failure wouldn’t be a blessing.
When Bithia witnesses the results of Viltori’s training, she realizes only these two men can fill her empty heart, inspiring her to take command of the throne at last. Except those who’ve held the reins thus far have a sinister reason for keeping Bithia—and her new consorts—in their place.
Warning: This erotic romantic fantasy contains a lusty empress, a primitive alpha male, a dedicated acolyte with domineering tendencies, copious amounts of hot m/m and m/f/m sex, secret torments, burning desires clashing with duty, and a little bit of meddling by future gods.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Wicked Empress:
Viltori settled into the softest chair he’d ever sat upon as he motioned for Drahka to sit across from him. For a long time they simply sat, using the furniture as a way to
teach each other new words.
Even in the unfamiliar room, they fell to their usual form. Point, ask, explain and repeat. Immersed in learning, Drahka was oblivious to the fact that his robe, unlike his trousers, did not stay closed when he shifted about. Each time Drahka moved, he revealed more of his hairy calves, then his thighs. Each time he celebrated his understanding, Drahka lifted the crimson fabric up higher, getting ever closer to the juncture of his legs. After grasping a particularly difficult word, Drahka lifted his hands in triumph, which wrenched his robe apart, exposing his hips, cock and both legs.
Viltori tried not to gape, but the man was huge, hairy and, hottest of all, uncut. Most men on Diola, even those in the barbaric outer regions, were circumcised shortly after birth. Viltori had not known of the difference until he’d traveled to Oughun. As he stood with several other men urinating directly into a rushing stream, they’d excitedly pointed to his differentness. The Oughun men asked a hundred questions and Viltori hoped he’d answered them fully. Oughunian men had never seen a cut cock and Viltori had never seen one that wasn’t. Culturally they exchanged much that bonded them together. Viltori knew Drahka was uncut, and he’d tried to tell Drahka that he should inform Bithia, but when he’d tried to show him this information, he’d lashed out. Oughnians had clearly defined taboos about same-sex touching of any sort.
To his horror, Drahka noticed the direction of Viltori’s gaze. Before he could babble out an explanation, Drahka cupped his cock and asked, “What is wrong with my cock?” Lowering his head he said, “You tried to touch, to show me, and I tried to hit you. I’m sorry. Please now show me what is wrong with my cock.”
Gulping, Viltori said, “Nothing.” Not a damn thing he could see, anyway. He’d like nothing better than to do to Drahka what Rown had done to him earlier. “What makes you think there is anything wrong with your cock?”
“Bithia say something uncute.”
After a moment, where he couldn’t imagine anyone, even Bithia, calling a cock cute or not, Viltori understood. “Not cut,” he said. “Uncut, not un-cute.” Briefly, he explained the difference between the two words, then tried valiantly to convey the meaning behind Bithia’s comment.
