The Kingdom's Crown (Inheritance of Hunger #3) - Kathryn Moon Page 0,33

distress before following her gaze back over my shoulder. In the mirror we were reflected, deep red stains soaked into the torn fabric of my shirt. She tugged roughly on my shoulders, and I helped pull the shirt off over my head.

Her hands were hot on my skin, mapping my back, and I leaned in to suck on her pulse.

"There are still scars," she said, throat arching for me, hips rocking over mine as she rubbed the healed wounds of the knife on my back.

"Some might be from the army," I said, shrugging and helping myself to handfuls of her ass through the dense volume of her skirt. Her eyes fluttered shut, lips parting, and she ground herself against me.

"Give me your cock," she said, breathy and sweetly cajoling.

I grinned. The friction was too muffled between all the fabric, but I had a pretty view of her breasts swelling with every gasp and her throat flexing with her swallows. When I ignored her order, Bryony growled and sat up on her knees, frowning down at me. She reached for her own dress, and I caught her hands, shaking my head.

"You have to finish undressing me first," I said.

The Hunger's magic was buzzing, and for a moment there was a dark look in Bryony's eyes. Chosen were meant to obey, to satisfy their mistress when she demanded it, but I'd seen the way Bryony occasionally bent to the others, giving them control over her pleasure, and I'd witnessed the dazzled expression she wore after, how loose and tender and flushed she looked.

Bryony jumped down from the bed, hands on her waist and gaze flashing as she examined me from head to toe, planning her attack. I wanted to laugh—she looked like a little general—but I was probably already testing her enough. She reached for my boots first, nearly tearing my foot off with them, her lips snarling with the effort. One thunked heavily to the floor, and then the other, and Bryony's eyes fixed to the crotch of my trousers where I was already half-hard and twitching under her examination.

She was less rough there, but I knew her plan. She untied the laces and then reached gently inside, wrapping her warm hand around my length and stroking perfectly. The grunt caught in my throat, and Bryony's smile was wicked.

"I said to undress me," I growled.

"I said to give me your cock," she answered, glancing up at me through her lashes.

I wrapped my hand around her wrist, stilling her movement, but it didn't stop her from taking a firmer grip that made me buck in response.

"Do you really want to finish me off in your hand, Bryony?" I asked, watching her brow furrow. "I'm two-natured, remember?"

Her lips pouted, and her grip eased. "You're only resistant in your second form, we think. But fine," she added huffing. "Lift your hips."

She pulled my pants down as I obliged, watching her as she crossed her arms stubbornly. "Now what?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Brat, I thought fondly. I stood and wrapped my arms around her waist, lifting her up to meet me for a kiss, lips and tongue stroking against hers until she was soft in my arms again.

"Now it's my turn," I said, brushing one last kiss to her mouth before setting her on her toes again and moving to her back.

Her hair had started to fall loose during the attack and while she was healing me, and I pulled the pins free now, twisting her curls around my hand and tugging on the strands to tilt her head. My free hand went to the laces of her dress as I bent my head to kiss her neck, glancing to our reflection in the mirror. She was watching me, her eyelids heavy, a soft smile on her lips.

"I can't help being impatient," she whispered.

I bit gently on her shoulder, looking down as the dress gaped, revealing the shadow of her breasts. "If I was going to rush, I would've fucked you up against a wall ages ago."

Bryony giggled. "Please tell me that isn't entirely off the table."

"No, we can do it on a table too," I said, grinning as she laughed.

"My laces are undone, Cress," she murmured.

They were. I tugged one shoulder down, a breast appearing from the loose collar, ready and waiting for my touch. Bryony arched between the grip on her hair and my hand on her breast, rising up to her toes. A long moan echoed up to the ceiling, and