large cock. Repeatedly. Only then would the fire of agony inside my narrow channel be quenched.
Baron regarded my wonton body with hooded eyes, pure male lust twisting his formerly perfect face, which only made my blood race faster. It excited me to know he wanted to fuck me more than anything.
Any second, he’d pull down my pants and pound into me brutally.
His hand slid under my sports bra and cupped a breast, kneading my nipple before quickly tracing down my body and heading toward the flesh between my thighs. I gasped when his hand thrust into my yoga pants and palmed my pussy. The Summer King was a straight-shooter. He wanted to skip the torturous, time-consuming foreplay as well. And judging by the demanding heat in his eyes and his heavy breathing, I bet he no longer cared much about patient courting at the moment. Men and their promises!
He wanted to rut me like an animal, yet I was more than willing to cooperate as I was drowning in a sea of savage lust.
But maybe this isn’t the brightest idea? A small part of me tried to argue and get through to me. After we fucked, things wouldn’t be the same. But neither Baron nor I could stop it now, or even wanted to. Lust boiled in our veins, deciding our next course of action.
“Baron,” I whispered and propelled my hips up toward him.
“I’ve never desired any woman more than you,” he said roughly in my ear. “I’ve wanted to fuck your sweet hole since the day I saw you. Say you want me to fuck your tight pussy, stretch it, fill it, and make it remember how I brutally claimed you.”
“Will you spend that much time talking—” Before I finished the sentence, he’d lifted his weight enough to yank down both our pants in an instant.
His cock sprang free, its size impressive and its shape beautiful. My pussy clenched with slick heat. I licked my lips. Baron slanted his mouth over mine again while he had his granite cock nudge at my entrance.
One hard shove and it would embed deep within me. I couldn’t wait to be filled and stretched.
I arched my back, eager to receive the first forceful thrust that would make me moan with pleasure and need.
“Now, Baron,” I demanded, needing him to drive deep into me while he was still studying how his thick crown of cock prodded between my plump folds with searing lust and fascination.
The ground beneath us suddenly shook. Then the ceiling rumbled, and even the stone pillars vibrated with a warning of violence.
The threat of danger sliced through the haze of lust in my brain, adrenaline spiking my heart rate.
We darted frantic gazes about, seeking a threat. Baron wrapped his arms around me protectively as the ground tilted. Someone was shouting my name as footsteps rushed down the winding stairs toward the training room.
While Baron appeared highly alert, desire still plastered his golden eyes and distorted his face. And I still wanted him to fuck me more than anything, not caring that the world might burn and collapse in the next breath.
But I also knew we couldn’t always get what we wanted. I sucked in a breath to gather my strength and sanity. Then I bent my knees and threw the Summer King off me.
I rolled to the other side, pulled up my pants, and jumped to my feet. Baron also yanked his pants back up from his ankles, his huge erection stretching the front of his pants.
I evened my breath with effort while I jogged toward the base of the stairs, my fingers threading into my wildly tangled hair to comb it.
Rowan reached me before Rydstrom’s knights did. He gave me a look, his face icy, his eyes hard, and his lips puffing a wisp of a foggy steam. I felt my face burning. I knew how I looked—face flushing, eyes wild while still brimming with lust, and lips swollen thanks to Baron. I lifted my chin in defiance. I didn’t owe the Winter King or anyone else an explanation, even though cold logic reminded me that every action bore consequences.
The ground trembled as the muffled sound of concussive explosions went off above again. I swayed, and Rowan caught me in his arms. His other hand shot up to fend off Baron’s advancement toward me.
The two kings glared at each other, unable to compromise, despite the building still rocking like a boat in a storm.
“What the hell is going on up