Page 71 of The Sword & the Stone

"Agreed," Percival rumbled, shadows dancing across his bare chest. “I’ve been craving another taste for days.”

Lancelot stood, rolling his powerful shoulders. "I feel sorry for you poor saps. None of you stand a fucking chance."

Tristan's silver gaze met mine, ancient and knowing. "There's no shame in backing out, Arthur. This is for your pleasure, after all."

I wet my lips, pulse hammering in my throat. My skin felt too tight, feverish with anticipation. "I would be an idiot to put a stop to this."

Gawain flashed me a roguish wink. "I do love a woman who knows what she wants."

Merlin stepped forward, his eyes glowing an ethereal blue. With a wave of his hand, a large, plush bed appeared in the center of the grotto. It was draped in silks of burgundy and gold, piled high with downy pillows. It was the largest bed I’ve ever seen, large enough to fit ten people or more.

I stood on shaky legs, my heart thundering in my chest as I made my way towards the enormous bed. The plush carpet of emerald moss was soft and springy beneath my bare feet, tiny wildflowers brushing against my ankles with each step.

As I reached the edge of the bed, I turned to face my knights and my sorcerer. They stood in a loose semicircle, their eyes hot and heavy on my body, tracking my every movement with predatory intensity. The air was alive with anticipation, crackling with the primal energy that flowed between us.

I reached for the delicate straps of my dress, my heart pounding like a war drum in my chest. Slowly, teasingly, I slid them down my shoulders, baring inch after tantalizing inch of naked skin. The fabric whispered over my curves, catching briefly on my hardened nipples before fluttering to the ground in a pool of liquid gold at my feet.

A chorus of ragged curses and sharp inhales echoed through the grotto as I stood before them, clad only in the shimmering runes painted across my skin. Their eyes flashed with raw,primal hunger, the power thrumming through their veins making the air hum and crackle with barely restrained energy.

I felt utterly exposed, my every imperfection laid bare to their intense scrutiny. But there was something thrilling about it too, something empowering in the way their gazes devoured me, hot and reverent. The bulges straining against their trousers, evidence of their fierce arousal, were impossible to miss, and it made my core clench with answering need.

Tristan stepped forward first, his eyes glowing and wild. He moved with a fluid grace, his lithe muscles rippling beneath his midnight skin as he stalked towards me.

"Lie back," he purred. “Let me worship you with my mind, before the others have their turn."

I complied, sinking back onto the plush silken bedding. The fabric was cool and smooth against my heated skin. Tristan crawled over me, his gaze locked with mine as he raised a hand to hover just above my skin. He didn't touch me, but I noticed the whisper of his power, the thrum of magic that danced between us.

He was so much larger than I realized. There was something beautiful about Tristan. His features were delicate and handsome, but his body was corded with lithe muscle.

"Close your eyes," he said softly.

I let my eyes drift shut, my breath coming in shallow pants as I waited for Tristan's touch. But it never came. Instead, I gasped as a wave of pure, concentrated pleasure crashed over me, igniting every nerve ending in my body. It was like liquid ecstasy pouring through my veins, setting me alight from the inside out.

Images filled my mind, vivid and all-consuming. Tristan's hands roaming over my body, mapping every curve and hollow with worshipful reverence. His mouth was hot and urgent against my skin, trailing scorching kisses down the column of my throat, the valley between my breasts. His tongue swirlingaround my aching nipples, teasing the sensitive buds until I was arching off the bed, a broken moan spilling from my lips.

Lower and lower he went, his phantom touch setting me on fire. When his mouth finally reached the apex of my thighs, I cried out, my hips bucking off the bed as he laved my aching pussy with long, slow strokes of his tongue. He delved deep, thrusting into my dripping heat. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in my belly, my thighs quaking, toes curling into the silken sheets.

Just when I thought I couldn't take any more, Tristan sucked my clit into his mouth. TherealTristan. Flesh and blood fae male. Not the version of him trapped inside my mind. My eyes flew open as he rose to his knees, his lips wet and glistening.

I was panting as he freed his cock from his pants, and a small moan escaped my lips as I noticed that there were shimmering silver runes on the long, thick shaft too.

He gripped the base, stroking slowly as he held my gaze, his silver eyes molten with desire. "I'm going to fuck you now, my queen," he said, his voice low and rough with need.

I could only whimper in response, my body trembling as he positioned himself at my entrance. The thick head of his cock nudged against my wetness, teasing, tormenting. I was so wet for him already, aching to be filled.

With a powerful thrust of his hips, Tristan buried himself to the hilt inside me. I cried out, my back arching off the bed as he stretched and filled me so exquisitely. He was big, the silver runes adding a delicious texture as he withdrew almost completely before slamming back in. The magic running through the swirls tingled against my clit.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," Tristan groaned, his fingers digging into my hips as he set a hard, deep rhythm. "I’ve imagined you under me a thousand times…"

The others circled the bed like predators stalking their prey, their eyes glowing with primal hunger as they watched Tristan take me.

I dug my nails into his biceps, loving the feel of his muscles tightening under my grip, my heels locking around his waist as I urged him on. "Harder," I gasped out, my voice ragged. "Fuck me harder, Tristan."

He growled low in his throat, a sound of pure male satisfaction. Shifting his grip, he hooked my knees over his elbows, spreading me wider, opening me fully. The new angle allowed him to penetrate even deeper.

Around us, the others watched with rapt intensity, their chests heaving, eyes glowing with barely leashed hunger. Gawain stroked himself through his trousers; all traces of jokes and teasing aside. He was wild now.

Galahad had a white-knuckled grip on the bedpost, as if physically restraining himself from joining in. Lancelot's molten gaze seared into me, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Percival was a looming shadow, still and silent, but I noticed the dark shadows writhing all around us.

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