The Kingdom's Crown (Inheritance of Hunger #3) - Kathryn Moon Page 0,48

him quickly, an intense focus fixed to his face as she settled herself onto his cock.

"We ought to make her a saddle for that thing," Aric said.

"I am her saddle," Daniel said with a note of strain in his voice, a faint quirk on his lips. His eyes never left Bryony's.

I snorted and waited till Bryony was fully seated on Daniel's ample length—and girth—before putting my pencil to the page again. This time it was Daniel's face I sketched, the utter rapt attention he gave to our princess, the sudden open devotion he wore.

Daniel was still fairly reticent, hovering at the edges of our numbers, and if it weren't for moments like this when he came suddenly alive under Bryony's attention, I might still resent the man's presence. But the second Bryony turned to Daniel for any reason, he lit up, and it became so obvious that our princess was his entire world.

Aric and Cresswell both moved for the bed, and I watched with interest as Aric deferred to Cresswell's determined pace. Bryony gasped as Cress took the back of her neck in a firm grip, pushing her down chest-to-chest with Daniel.

My pencil froze as Cresswell spread Bryony's ass open to his gaze first, and then his fingers. She squealed, riding Daniel's cock roughly as Cresswell stretched her.

Footsteps slapped against carpet as Thao and Wendell abandoned their post to hurry onto the bed and watch Bryony. I turned the page again, quickly outlining the figures on and around the bed.

Pages and pages of erotic unions, tender embraces, every single feature of Bryony outlined and shaded. Not for the sake of art, not really. I was trying to capture the power of the moments, as if one flat image by my hand might preserve a perfect memory. Except every one of those memories was me on the wrong side of a page. I hadn't learned how to sculpt my favorite flavor—Bryony's sweat and violets. Or the sound of her voice breaking, breathless pleads for mercy and for more.

I closed my sketchbook on the attempt, setting it to the side and watching as Cresswell sank himself into Bryony, sandwiching her between his and Daniel's chest, their bodies taking over the rhythm she'd wanted, slowing and extending it to make her tremble.

What kind of artist am I if I'm only interested in one subject? I thought, and I was only really surprised to find there was no note of bitterness. I would never say as much to Bryony. She wouldn't accept it. She still visited me in the studio I'd fashioned in our suite, poking about and quizzing me on projects I had less interest in than she did.

She would balk if I told her the truth. I was hers, her Chosen. I would sketch and sculpt to pass the hours where she was busy wrestling for the reins of Kimmery, just as Owen would tend horses and sneak down to the beach. Wendell had a purpose now that Bryony had positioned him onto the council. Aric spent his time sneaking around the castle for one reason or another. Even Thao was helping navigate Bryony through the public role of being princess and eventually queen. But Owen, Daniel, and I, and probably Cress too, now that he'd surrendered the grip he'd had on his role as her guard, we were Bryony's Chosen in the more traditional sense, waiting for her to call on us for comfort or sex or just company.

I watched them take their turns with her, Thao and Wendell hurrying to take Daniel and Cresswell's place when their will to resist joining Bryony as she came apart failed. Owen returned from the bath, kissing Bryony so senseless, she barely noticed as Aric helped himself to her magic and fashioned vines around her wrists and ankles, suspending her in Thao and Wendell's embrace. The vines bloomed with Bryony's ecstasy, breathed at half-time from her gasps.

I still waited, undressing slowly, kneeling at the edge of the bed, barely able to feel the movement as Thao and Wendell collapsed in heaps and Aric claimed Bryony for himself, urgent and consuming, fucking her to the precipice and then pulling away for Owen to chase her there again, the pair of them taking turns back and forth.

"Please! Please, both of you," Bryony begged, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.

It was the first sensible words she'd managed since she had mounted Daniel, and Aric and Owen both raced to obey her, thrusting into her cunt