Page 17 of Taken By the Devilish King

I still can’t believe he went to all the trouble to not only get me my favorite foods, but to also have his chefs make things they'd never tried before from scratch. And don't even get me started on abducting the whole ensemble of the Royal Ballet. As absurd as that sentence sounds, I won't lie, that's quite sweet.

I don't think he's lying when he says he's my fan. I never even knew I could have non-human fans, but I guess I don't know what I don't know.

I wonder what other surprises he has in store for me. He's already made it perfectly clear he intends to sleep with me and damn it if the idea doesn't sound all the more enticing the longer I spend here. Especially knowing there's a potential way out.

I'm curious how he'll approach me. Are there any Vyperian mating customs? Do they have to perform any activities leading up to or during the act? What would it look like?

Would he touch my boobs? Caress around my areolas, tease my nipples with his fingers? Would he kiss me? Do Vyperians kiss? Would he lick me with that forked tongue of his? How would it feel?

The more questions I ask myself, the more he takes shape in my mind, the wetter my pussy gets, the harder my clit throbs, until it becomes impossible to think of anything else. Of anyone else.

Of all the ways he could claim me, touch me, fuck me. I go so deep into my own head, my own fantasies, I don't even feel the massage anymore, just the effect it leaves on my body, all tense and sensitive, ready to explode.

The more I think of him, the more he takes shape. The bulging muscles, the firm fingers tracing circles around my knees, his tail wrapping around his hips and the tip running up and down my side from rib to waist over and over again, making me feel slightly ticklish but also so much tenser.

I can visualize the lust in his eyes that turn to slits, inspecting me from top to bottom like I'm a prized possession.

He pushes my knees away from each other as if asking for permission and I open my legs in response. He wastes no time sliding up to my pussy and using his fingers to pull my lips apart. The tenderness of his moves makes this worse because it puts my body more on edge, makes my orgasm more forthcoming than I've ever felt it before.

He presses his thumb over my clit and I just about lose it. I let out a loud moan and arch my back, pushing my core harder against his finger.

He watches me with satisfaction in his eyes, taking turns to tease my folds with all his fingers but not inserting any. The more he does, the harder he rubs circles over my clit, making it impossible to think, to speak, or even breathe. All I'm able to do is gasp and moan like a virgin who's never been touched before and stare at him as if he's my idol.

Who knew I had such a wild imagination?

I'm trying to control what he does next, and fuck it, I can. This is my head, I do as I please so I picture him bending over and sliding his tongue between my flesh and that's exactly what he does. His cool breath makes me twitch just as much as his tongue, the two ends like needles running parallel to one another and leaving me weak and breathless on their trail. The texture of it is smooth but so wet, whether from his saliva or my juices flowing I don't know and I don't care.

For my part, I can't stop watching, staring at the forked tongue sliding up and down my folds, the shots of desire that shoot up my spine from the act. And then he slides it in my channel and I clench my jaw, ball my hands to try to stop the groan that builds inside me.

Let it out, Ms. Kyle. Don't hold it in. Let the world hear how much your king can satiate you, his voice rings in my head as if he were truly here and I do it, because who the fuck even cares anymore.

My moan is so loud I wouldn't be surprised if it shakes the foundations of this room and when he hooks a finger inside me it only gets stronger.

He turns his tongue and lips to my clit and doesn't stop staring, not when he adds another finger inside me or three. I turn to putty under his control, every part of my body filled with gasoline and he's the spark that turns me into flames.

The more he eats me, the more I crave him inside me. Not just his fingers, but all of him. I imagine him doing that. Standing up and aiming that gorgeous hard cock toward me, but it doesn't happen.

"Ngh! I need you inside me Lofy," I tell him, making the man in my head obey me.

Not yet, Ms. Kyle. Not yet.

Him calling me Ms. Kyle does something to me. I didn't even know that was a fantasy of mine but I embrace it and accept my fate.

I push myself further down his fingers, ground myself against his lips, my desire pumping through me like a drug. I'm so close it's not even funny anymore. I can't breathe. I can't think.

My clit is so big and hard between his lips I fear it might explode. I take a breath, then another and let go. The explosion ripples in my core and it spreads to the rest of my body, wave after wave, hit after hit, leaving behind only pleasure and fatigue.

But even so, Lofy doesn't stop. He keeps going. He keeps eating me, keeps fucking me, keeps staring at me until he causes another explosion and another. It all turns to mush in my head and I lose count. I don't know how much is fantasy and how much is real anymore.

The masseuses are certainly not here anymore. They probably left me alone when I started moaning like a maniac, leaving me to my fate.

Lofy is relentless though. He doesn't stop. He won't stop. It's as if he needs my orgasms to feed himself and well...isn't that a thought.

I stare at him, unable to take my eyes off him, and notice his chin is red.

What the fuck?

I manage to lift my hand and put it to his head so I can inspect it better, knowing I could just imagine doing it, but I don't know what's real or not anymore. His lips and chin are painted red and dripping. I swipe at it and gasp.

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