The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok #3) - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,100

on his thick thighs, looking down at him.

“Such a pretty knight,” she murmured. “I believe the King must have sent me his handsomest specimen. But I believe you have forgotten something.” She raised a finger to her lips. “Where is your trusty staff, Sir Lusty Loins?”

Armand’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, it’s here, if you only know where to look.” His eyes dropped to the bold thrust of his erection as if she might need a clue. In truth she could hardly miss it.

“Hmm,” Una said, letting her eyes follow his. Armand let out a grunt of surprise as she ran her hand over his cock, boldly making out his shape.

“Ah yes, I see,” she murmured. “A formidable weapon indeed. I look forward to testing its mettle.”

His breathing was coming rapidly now as his cock further thickened and lengthened in her grasp, practically knocking against her belly for attention. She remembered how he had tutored her in his sensitive spots before and ran her fingers over the bulbous head, before reaching down to lightly trace the sizeable hairy ballocks at their root.

He shuddered and she halted, looking up quickly to check she was not doing anything he did not like. His face was flushed, and he had a tortured look on his face, but even with her inexperience, Una could tell he did not dislike the attention she was paying him at all.

Now it was her turn to smile. She closed her hand around his shaft and lightly squeezed his pulsating length. He huffed out a breath and thrust his hips upward with a muffled oath.

“Harder?” she asked, with a moment’s uncertainty.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned.

Una gripped him more firmly and he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut, the muscles in his thighs and stomach, jumping as he craned toward her. Remembering how he had handled himself before now, she gave his shaft a firm pump that had him jerking upright.

“Una!”

She placed a firm hand on his chest, pushing him back down. “Ah-ah, Sir Knight. You said you would be able to withstand this, if you recall.”

He was breathing raggedly, his eyes fixed to her face as she fluttered her fingers over the head of his cock, which was now slick with his fluids. He made a strangled noise in his throat as he placed his hands back under his head, submitting to her ministrations, though he was no longer relaxed, but primed and ready.

“Wicked dragon,” he said thickly.

Una smiled, for in truth, the way he said it sounded like a compliment. She slid her fingers, now slippery, back down his shaft and pumped his impressive length again and again until he made that noise in his throat that was something between a cry and a whimper. Armand’s eyes blazed and he threw his head back against the pillows. When she paused, it seemed he could not help but burst out, “Don’t stop! Ah gods.”

“You forget,” she told him. “That I am not some willing maiden eager to please you, but a dragon who means to devour you.” She shifted back, retreating down his thighs, past his knees and he tensed as though to catch her back up again.

“Where are you going?”

She ignored his sharp words, instead peeling down the thin straps of her shift, pushing the neckline down, so that her breasts sprang free. Her actions seemed to have struck him silent apart from the rasp of his breath, but she did not dare look at Armand’s face as she rearranged herself over the top of him, lowering herself between his legs until her full breasts pressed into his hairy thighs.

“Una,” he groaned, and she pinched his hip.

“You keep forgetting the game,” she told him breathlessly. “Do you want me to stop?”

He swallowed and shook his head. “No.”

She leaned forward and blew softly on his cock and he gave another harsh groan. Una took a deep breath. She was actually going to do this. She knew men liked it. She had heard her the lewd, unguarded talk of the Northern soldiers often enough. And Armand put his mouth to her with every sign of pleasure, so she could not be wrong in this.

She moved forward and taking his shaft in one hand, she ran her tongue along the underside of his turgid length. Dimly, she heard Armand’s choked cry and she repeated the action, letting her tongue linger over the raised vein she could feel there. When she reached the tip, she found more fluid had gathered there and without thinking darted her