Caged Kitten (All the Queen's Men #2) - Rhea Watson Page 0,167
squeals and wet. No more orgies though—not unless it was the four of us. Fintan had barely even glanced at any of the gorgeous fae men and women of the Midnight Court since we arrived. Rarely accepted a drink from them. Ignored all invites for a secluded catch-up somewhere on the grounds.
Briefly, I’d been afraid that I wasn’t enough—that we weren’t enough for a prince accustomed to lavish luxury. But from the way he watched Rafe and me now, eyes shimmering with need, his cock already at half-mast again, we were more than enough.
This was precisely where he wanted to be, same as me and the others.
Taking me from behind, Rafe became the savage lover who wore the mask of a quiet writer everywhere else. In here, he fucked hard and fast, making every bit of me wobble, making my eyes roll back in my head as fiery pleasure seared through me, my muscles tensing, an implosion imminent—
And then he fucking stopped. With a strangled snarl, he spilled himself inside of me, same as Fintan, and immediately withdrew. My head drooped forward, and I let out a frustrated moan that had the trio chuckling again—apparently tonight was the night to edge Katja, because usually by now I’d have had at least three climaxes and would be begging for a break before the next one. Ugh.
“Oh, darling, are you disappointed?” Rafe teased, his hand finding my hair again before hauling me off the armchair. My sweaty back met his clothed chest, my legs weak and on the verge of collapse as I stumbled into him. He dragged his fangs up the column of my throat just as Elijah stood, and the vampire licked at the blood still smeared from his previous bite. “What happens if none of us let you come?”
“Then I’ll make myself come,” I managed, eyes locked on Elijah as he crossed toward us, towering over everyone, his aura engulfing the massive room.
“Is that so?” Rafe whispered. Then, without warning, he hoisted me up, one arm hooked around my waist as his free hand bared my neck to him again, then buried his golden fangs in my throat. Pleasure exploded with the intensity of the sun, and vaguely, I heard my own mottled scream of relief. It vanished immediately when he withdrew, my body buzzing and desperate for more, wet heat slicking down my neck to my chest.
Spurred by the savagery, Elijah didn’t take his time. He scooped me up, hands bruising my thighs, and sunk into me with a single thrust. Stretched by him and dangling precariously between two men who I loved with all my heart, I came undone. That alone was enough to tip my tormented body into the black, and I came with a breathy cry, abdominals tensed and eyes clenched shut. The climax sapped any fight from me, tangled my tongue and jumbled my words. Elijah watched it all with a gritted jaw, the muscles dancing just as my pussy tightened around him, then dragged a possessive hand up my body to the mark he had left on my shoulder the very same night we left Xargi.
Here. In this room. The second we were all alone, he snapped—stripped me out of my jumpsuit while the others watched, all of us grimy and stinking of rebellion, and pounded me into Fintan’s pristine bedlinens until we imploded together. His teeth found my body ravenously, and beneath the royal canopy, he had marked me—his fated mate—and branded me forever.
Since then, he hadn’t been able to not touch it. Sometimes he stroked it absently, his arm on the back of my chair at meals and his fingers grazing the mark that would never fade, but others, like now, had more intention. Even with Rafe holding me up, feeding from me, pleasuring me with his vampiric toxin, Elijah planted a hand over the mark and gripped tight as he rocked his hips to mine.
While Rafe had been rough and Fintan an absolute tease, Elijah was all passion. Deep, purposeful movements paired with a lot of soul-consuming eye contact. I lost myself in his golden irises, in the dragon gazing deep inside me, right down to my core. Magic quivered in my belly, spurred by our connection and sparking at my fingertips. No spells cast, of course, but the intensity of our bond usually set off the unstable well inside me—like my magic was just tickled to be so near the man ordained to be mine by fate.