Caged Kitten (All the Queen's Men #2) - Rhea Watson Page 0,164
hadn’t. Most of all, I enjoyed letting them. As soon as the doors parted, I stumbled clumsily into Prince Fintan’s enormous bedroom. Before me stretched a sea of white and gold marble, a round bed in the center big enough for ten. Writing desks and golden maps of all the fae courts suggested his parents had high hopes for a scholar when they’d furnished the space, along with the hundreds of books stacked deep on the towering shelves. Three armchairs sat around a slate hearth, in which roared a plum fire that never extinguished, and behind them was a free-floating bar—literally with no legs—that navigated the room under some enchantment, rattling to your side whenever your drink was getting low.
This place always took my breath away.
And that was when one of them got me—always. This time it was Fintan barreling into his bedroom after me, his breath hot on my neck as he hooked his arm around my waist and yanked me flush against him. After nibbling at my shoulder, hands wandering my body possessively, he retreated just enough to grab the back of my dress and rip it right down the middle. I pouted at the protests of the fabric, the designer’s meticulous work ruined by a horny prince.
Silvery-white silk and lace and sequined tulle gathered at my feet, the rest of me totally naked; it drove all three of them wild knowing I went to these court events without panties or a bra. Sometimes we left early for that reason alone.
My nipples pebbled at the onslaught of chilly night air, trembling with every ragged breath, and I shot onto my tiptoes with a giggle when Fintan cuffed the back of my neck and hoisted me up just a little. Held me in place. Made me wait for the others to arrive. And when they did, Elijah and Rafe sauntered in like they had all the time in the world, eyeing my nudity with fiery interest. While Elijah drifted toward the fireplace, drawn to the magic fae flames like a moth to a—well, you know—Rafe lingered, golden fangs still tinged red as he flashed a grin and let out a delicious chuckle when he tweaked my nipple.
Fintan, meanwhile, let his free hand rove unchecked, smoothing over my hips, my ass, my breasts, before eventually delving between my thighs, a finger thrust through my slick folds. He greeted the wetness with a satisfied huff against my throat.
“She’s positively dripping,” he announced, teasing me with his lips and teeth, that talented tongue sweeping the curve of my earlobe, and Rafe shook his head with a sharper, more biting laugh that made my toes curl.
“When isn’t she?”
Fintan’s amusement dripped across my skin like lava, hot and all-consuming, and he dragged me back into him, cock rigid and sharply insistent against my bare ass. While Rafe meandered over to his usual armchair—the center piece directly in front of the hearth, throwing caution to the wind as a vampire drifting so close to the flames—Elijah settled in the largest seat of them all, the grand black pleated chair to the left, foreboding and regal and woefully out of place amongst Fintan’s light décor. A throne for a king—for an alpha. A conquering dragon.
Tipsy on fae wine and these three, I reached back to stroke Fintan over his pants, smoothing my hand up and down his rigid length, wondering if I focused on the head, then he might abandon whatever he had in mind and just take me right here and now. Instead, the fae prince thrust me out at an arm’s length, tsking at my efforts, then steered me toward the trio of highbacked chairs. Plum flames warmed my calves as I rounded in front of the seats, the silent audience, thrones upon which my kings sat and watched me touch myself just a few nights back. I stumbled a little over the black bear rug underfoot, but my knees were grateful for it when Fintan pushed me down.
“You know what to do, dearest darling,” he rumbled in my ear, his hand creeping down my bare back, tracing my spine, then smacking me hard on the ass to spur me onto all fours. I complied, body on fire with three sets of eyes watching me intently, hungrily, these dominant lovers who always had their way with me—but in the end, were under my thrall. There was such power in submission, in surrender. Over the last two weeks, I had explored that for the first