AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Our eyes deadpan in a stalemate, and I snigger, victorious. Vehement, she bites my mouth, chews my lower lip while our tongues devour one another.
Before another moment passes, Isla grips my cock and pushes it to her drenched sex. “Fuck me against this wall now, Corpus King.”
No hesitation. I suck her neck, grip her breasts, and lunge my cock inside her sex. Not simply warm but hotter than Nether-hell flames. I forge my way inside, her tight center welcoming me like a celestial pool. I pound her against the wall, propelling her up with the momentum, swallowing her groans with the shades. I feast on her ripe breasts and tantalize her dilated clitoral nub until her inner muscles clamp hard around my member.
But I don’t get to revel in conquering her climax. Not when her hand scrambles lower, and she grips my member’s edge and milks me. I come hard and fast to unite with her.
“Isla...” I growl at her breast and suck on each one to leave retaliatory marks. Her eyes glaze over with ecstasy and raw triumph.
After a few moments of our piqued breath united, Isla squeezes the edge of my organ and simpers. “That’s what you get for playing with fire, my King. But thank you for the ride.”
She rights her bodice while I cage my still-pulsing cock. Before she can tug on her undergarments, I rip them from her ankles, inhale their scent close to my nostrils, and smirk when she tries to retrieve them.
I wave them above her head, deny her, and touch two fingers to her lips. “I’ll be keeping these, my swollen bride. After Court, I’ll tell you all about how the Ith lords and elders tugged at their collars and paled from its overwhelming and alluring aroma.”
Isla pouts and jumps to snatch the soaked lace, but the moment she falls against me, I catch her and murmur against her mouth, “Did you know Ith can scent a human woman’s pregnancy pheromones?”
“Allysteir!” she protests while I drag the lace across my face. “Not to worry your pretty little head.” I capture her chin and rub her lower lip with my thumb, narrowly missing her snapping teeth. “Youare still the savior of Talahn-Feyal. All pride and credit to you, including for the babe growing in your womb. I am your humble king.”
She narrows her eyes before tapping my wrist where I imprison her under-lace above my head. “Your game, Allysteir?”
I wink and touch my lips to hers. “It is the Day of Masks. My treat. My trick. Ultimately, a...warningto my brother not to fuck with my bride. And anyone else. Forgive me for my over-protectiveness?” She chews on her lower lip and rolls her eyes, stamping one foot, but I read between the lines.
“Just remember where the line is, Corpus King.”
“If ever I were to forget, I am certain you will have no trouble drawing a new one for me, my dark rose.” I pocket the aromatic lace, then kiss the backs of her knuckles.
“Sweet talk will not get you through immortality with me.” She sticks her tongue out.
“Considering the enormity of your sweet tooth...” I chuckle when she smacks my chest at the shoulder but quickly follow her out of the alcove and into the secondary hall where Aydon, Mathyr, and Franzy are midway through their first course.
Aydon rocks his fist against his chest, coughing as I breeze past him to the end of the table. From ear to ear, I grin a taunt, knowing he can scent her lace. Isla slides into her rightful place at theheadof the table diagonal to her sweetheart. As usual, they greet each other with a tender kiss.
“You’re looking well, Mathyr,” I compliment my mother and her ornate garb, appreciating how she’s woven Aydon’s father’s malleus, incus, and stapes—the smallest bones in the body—into her hair to form an organic and proud broach.
Since my restoration, Mathyr has warmed to me more. What dumbfounds me is her newfound kinship with Isla, but I chalk it up to their shared survivorhood.
“You’re looking better, Allysteir.” Mathyr smiles, sipping her pomegranate juice.
“No doubtfeelingbetter,” Aydon grumbles under his breath. “Should I alert Isla how often you and Finleigh were late for meals?”
Isla ignores Aydon and whispers something sweet in Franzy’s ear, causing her leyanyn to giggle.
I adjust my crown, reach for my goblet of pomegranate juice, and click my teeth. “Poor Aydon: we both know I may be late for breakfast, but you’ll be late for your own funeral.”
“Enough,” Mathyr’s steely voice chills the heated tension in the room, so even Franzy and Isla sit to attention. “Let us discuss more positive topics. Like the impending Night of Masks, the arrival of the royals following our breakfast, and how the mines have opened again to afford more productivity for tonight.”
Isla drops her fork speared with blood sausage. It splatters carnal juice across the tablecloth. I fix my eyes on my Queen, on her cheeks reddening from anger, eyes narrowing in a dark, royal rage.
Before she or I may act, Aydon dabs his mouth and suggests to Isla, “Perhaps you should thank the Crown Princess, Your Highness. After all, Franzy insisted on reopening the mines.”
All the color drains from my Queen’s cheeks.
For the first time in all our months of togetherness, Isla does not touch her food.
Episode 47
The Night of Masks
