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I closed my lips around his shaft, looking up at him as I knelt there before him. His expression softened as I suckled him tentatively. For a few seconds, he allowed my hesitant and somewhat reluctant explorations, but before long he cleared his throat.
“You’re sucking my cock like you want more of the strap, baby girl,” he warned.
I tried harder. I swirled my tongue around him, bobbing my head back and forth. He wound his hand around my hair, twirling it into a firm ponytail as he took back control. He thrust into my mouth more firmly and I gagged around his length, leaning backwards as I tried to pull back. His hold on my hair didn’t allow that.
Instead, it kept me right where he wanted me, on my knees with him in control.
For a moment, his thick length made me panic. Quickly though, I learned to time my breath around his thrusts, taking in air when he pulled out and breathing out when he pushed back in. I wasn’t particularly adept at sucking a man, but the more he used my mouth, the more comfortable I became. I sucked harder and more firmly, growing more confident in my actions as he made me take every last inch. I tried to open my throat, losing control of my gag reflex from time to time. I learned quickly though and forced myself to swallow around him, taking him more and more deeply with every last thrust.
He groaned and I knew I was doing a good job. His thrusts became harder and more erratic and I used his thighs to balance myself as I showed him just how sorry I was. I showed him with my mouth that I had learned my lesson as much as I could, and he growled hotly.
He liked that.
I liked it too.
He pushed in and out of my mouth. I swirled my tongue and then I felt him throb hard once and then twice. His grip on the back of my head changed and he pulled back hard. He took his cock in his hand and I gasped, feeling the soreness in my throat from his length. Before I knew what was happening, he roared, and his seed splashed over my face. It was hot and it burned like a brand as it dripped down my cheeks as a mark of shame before his court.
He’d marked my face with his seed just like I had done to his with his wine.
And everyone could see every last drop as it covered my face.
His message wasn’t lost on me.
One spurt after the next shot onto me and I swallowed my shame as I realized how very much that I was on display at that moment. His orgasm seemed to last forever as his seed marked me and I found myself aroused even though I sincerely didn’t want to be.
I opened my mouth, tentatively sticking my tongue out and tasting him on my tongue.
I liked it. I liked it a lot.
He finally finished and proceeded to tuck his cock away. My arousal ebbed and the burn from the ginger came rushing back.
I stifled a cry as my hand pressed between my thighs.
“Give me your hand, baby girl,” he offered softly. I took it, fighting back tears as his seed dried on my face. He pulled me up and laid me over the table. Carefully, he pressed his fingers between my cheeks and pulled the ginger free. I moaned as I clawed at the table, unable to stop my cries from taking over me. A wet cloth swiped between my legs, wiping away the remains of the burning juice. Again and again it cleansed me as I lay on that table, shaking and overwhelmed by everything that had just happened.
Strong arms surrounded me and lifted me, and I knew I was against his chest. I cried harder and the king’s voice rang out.
“The show is over, my court. You may stay as long as you like, but I will take my leave so that I may look after my little concubine,” he said loudly, and I curled into him, pressing my cheek into the crook of his shoulder.
He didn’t spend any time on the court after that. He didn’t stop to talk to anyone, not even the Duchessa Amara on his way out of the dining space. Instead, he just stalked off with me in his arms, holding me as tightly as possible. What surprised me was that I held onto him just as tightly in return.
Chapter Six
Matteo Giovanni Santaro
I wrapped my arms around her tightly, both hating myself and enjoying the feeling of her spent body against mine. I could feel her shaking and I wondered if I had been too harsh, but she had done something that was unforgiveable in the eyes of my people. Had it been anyone else, they would have been publicly made an example of through the use of the dungeons. As king, I had to make decisions sometimes that made the people fear me, even as they loved me all the same.
Isabella would have been banished, stripped of her titles, and forced to start over somewhere else with no resources whatsoever. She would have been watched for a while to be sure she never spoke of the kingdom and the role I played in society. If she ever opened her mouth about my existence, she would be good as dead, not that anyone would have believed her.
I remember the first time I saw her on that camera, her eyes full of fire and spunk as she fought off my cousin and I remembered the look of fury and anger as she pushed him and he toppled out of the very window his drunk ass had shot through himself.
His men hadn’t acted fast enough to save him, but I had acted quickly enough to save her.
They would have killed her if they had the time. I made the call and I had forbidden it. My word weighed far heavier than his because I was the king and he was simply somewhere down the line to be king in the event of my death.
I hadn’t been lying when I had told her that I didn’t mourn his death. He would have made a terrible king. He was a scumbag that treated women with contempt, like they were simply playthings for his amusement meant to spread their legs for him whenever he demanded it and when they didn’t, he beat them with his fists. It was disgraceful.
Fucking asshole. He deserved what he got.
