Masked Prince - Nikolai Andrew Page 0,62
it into my mouth, sucking on my finger as I watched him.
We were alone, utterly alone. That had been another thing I worried about—if this huge change in status would mean that we were surrounded by servants all the time. But apparently not. Thankfully not.
He locked the deadbolts on the door without breaking my gaze, and then took two long strides into me. He was dark now, serious. Intense. He undid his sword belt and I unfastened the row of clips that secured his chain mail. Through all of it, I didn’t say a word. Speak when spoken to.
With each movement, each glance from him, I felt myself getting wetter and wetter. My heart pounded with anticipation and need.
I took off his mail and hung it on a hook, then turned to him. I lowered my eyes and knelt before him.
He growled when I went to my knees. With one huge finger he tipped my chin up, so I was looking at him. He looked savagely hungry. Dangerously full of desire.
Thank you, Lord, for this danger.
Randal dragged the pad of my thumb down my lip and pressed his fingers into the angle of my jawbone. I loved when he did that—letting me feel all his power in one tiny gesture. He traced my face with his eyes, and I saw the bulge between his legs grow to the point of straining his pants.
“That pussy better be ready for me, my Queen,” he said, and slid his finger under the diamond choker that I wore around my throat.
Chapter 21
Randal
“Everything off, except this choker,” I told her. I backed away from her, dropping my pants as I did. My dick was rock-solid, a smudge of precum already wetting the tip.
Seeing my precum pissed me off. And it reminded me of the simplest of the simple fucking truths: I was as cunt-whipped as any man had ever been in the history of the world.
No matter how big and strong I was, no matter how many motherfuckers knelt at my feet, she sat on the prize. Her pussy had the power. Always had and always fucking would. I’d chew through stone walls to eat her out. I’d destroy kingdoms to put my cock inside her.
Sitting down on the bed, keeping my legs spread wide so my throbbing balls had plenty of room to hang, I took my cock in my hand and stroked it as I watched her unfasten the row of hooks that went down the corset of her wedding dress. As her breasts came free, I saw an angry curved red line where her dress had been cutting into her. I liked that a whole fucking lot—the idea of her hurting a little in a place that only I’d ever see. I gripped my cock harder, trapping blood in the shaft as I stroked.
“Jacking off while the queen strips for me,” I said, gripping myself tighter. “Fuck, it’s good to be the king."
She hurried through the last of the hooks on the corset and let it fall at her feet, rushing to get her skirt off. I needed her to remember that this was my palace and I gave the goddamned orders. No matter how much I needed to fuck her, I outranked her. I gave the commands.
“Slow the fuck down,” I growled.
She froze, fingers trembling, and looked up at me with big innocent eyes. Fear. I saw it there. And I groaned as my cock pulsed in my hand.
“I like you, you know,” she said softly, all mischief. She hooked her thumbs under the waistband and then she slowly, so fucking slowly, shifted her skirt to get to the long row of buttons that ran down from her ass.
“Oh yeah?” I said. “That works out then. Because I fucking worship you.”
She gave a sassy, bratty little “Mmm-hmm” into her closed pink lips, long lashes dusting her cheeks. One button gave way. And then she slowly moved to the next.
So this was the game we were gonna play then. The give and take. The command and conquer.
I stood, releasing my cock from my grip, and moved toward her, stepping into her to make her back up against the sofa that sat in front of the fireplace. I took the tiny buttons between my fingers, looking her in the eyes, making like I was going to undo them.
But instead, I ripped those motherfuckers off in one yank. They skittered over the floor like a handful of loose jewels.
Iris threw her head back with