Page 64 of The Traitor's Curse
But I simply couldn’t let his self-pity pass without comment. Not when I’d suffered all those years at least as much as he had, lonely and jealous—not to mention always wondering if he’d decide to kill me and take my throne.
“You never tried to have me in the first place,” I said. “You act like it’s some—some fault of mine that we were never—but you flirted with everyone but me! You never had anything pleasant to say to me, let alone seductive, and that morning after you, after he, you were dreadful, Benedict!”
“Because I knew I’d given up any chance of happiness, and I’d never had a chance in the first place. I was dreadful, you’re right. I’m sorry. I should’ve gone without seeing you at all, but I hoped—I don’t know what I hoped. That you’d fall into my arms and ask me to take care of you, I suppose.”
“You shouldn’t have gone,” I whispered.
Buggering Ennolu help me, I was so close to simply getting on my knees. He could’ve had me on my knees anytime the last eight years. When he’d made his very first bow upon meeting me, he could’ve led me out of the throne room and straight to his bed and done anything he wanted with me for as long as he chose to keep me there.
The day he returned from his two-year absence, I’d been furious with him, bitter and resentful, terrified of what he might do.
But if he’d swept me into his arms right there on the palace steps, kissed me until I couldn’t breathe, thrown me over his shoulder and claimed me in front of everyone…
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” Benedict gritted out. “I’ll be inside you within ten seconds if you don’t. That’s why I had to go. You’ll never know how close I came to stripping you then and there and fucking you through the breakfast table, and you couldn’t have stopped me. Not even if you fought me with all your strength.”
Oh, gods, if more blood left my brain and went to my cock, I’d faint. The air between us felt sticky, as if it were drawing me to him, and he loomed over me, leaning down, a heartbeat away—
The words came out without any volition of mine, horrifyingly honest. “I wouldn’t have wanted to.”
“Lucian,” he breathed, and then he was kissing me, sweet and demanding and desperate, arms around me, and mine clinging to him so fiercely I didn’t think I could let him go if my life depended on it. He broke the kiss long enough to say, “I wish I knew what you were thinking just now, though,” and then his mouth descended on mine again, his tongue sliding into me, laying claim to me, tasting and teasing me.
When he moved down to my throat, nipping at the side of my neck, I was able to gasp out, “I was thinking about you kissing me on the palace steps when you came home last year, and—Benedict, Benedict!”
He hoisted me into his arms, muttering something into my throat that sounded filthy and felt delicious, with the brush of his lips on my overheated skin, carrying me through the sitting room door into my bedroom while I clutched at him and tried to wrap my legs around his waist, needing him, needing more of him, needingeverything.
Half my clothes were already gone by the time we landed on my bed, Benedict simply grasping the back of my trousers and ripping them in half, flinging the shreds to the floor.
Before I could protest, he’d splayed his hand over my bare ass, massaging me, pushing me up into him as he bore me down with his weight, rubbing circles that sent tremors of sensation all the way into the center of me. Two fingers dipped into my crease. I spread my legs as wide as they’d go, tearing at his clothing, everything a blur of his mouth and our hands and my panting breaths, and the mounting, molten heat inside me.
He rutted against me, the friction of his cock on mine driving me wild even through his trousers and what he’d left of mine, seams ripping as he drove into me, kissing me, tugging my head back with a hand wrapped in my hair so that he could lick his way down and bite at my nipples through my tunic.
“Fuck this,” he gasped. “Too much in the way.”
He stood up abruptly and laid his hands on my chest, and his magic flowed over my skin, tangible this time, the bond amplifying every sensation as every remaining stitch of my clothing simply—vanished.
I shoved up on my elbows, staring down at my naked body in mingled horror, delight, and awe at his magic.
“Where the hell did it all go? That was—silver chains with heraldry on them don’t grow on trees, Benedict!”
“It didn’t go far,” he said, but his self-satisfied wolf’s grin didn’t reassure me much. He looked me up and down, eyes narrowed. Hungry. He nodded, as if he’d made a decision—and bent down, grabbing me by the hips and flipping me over. I flailed and landed on my face with a mouthful of bedding. Benedict’s big hands wrapped around the backs of my thighs, he shoved me up and splayed me open, more of his magic coursing through my body in a cool, sparkling wash, leaving me clean and tingling.
The thud of his knees hitting the floor gave me one second’s warning before his mouth closed over my hole, his tongue thrusting inside, hot and slick and demanding.
“Benedict,” I said, and then, “Benedict, please!” My voice rose to a wordless wail as he kissed and sucked my tender flesh, softening and opening me and driving every thought out of my mind except how much I needed him in me, filling me, using me to completion.
I moaned as he pulled his mouth away and licked a stripe from my balls all the way to the top of my crease, pressing a kissto the small of my back. The cool air on my wet hole made me shiver.
Benedict’s harsh breaths and the rattle of his belt buckle seemed terribly loud as I lay there, clutching at the blankets with my knees hiked up, ass spread, completely exposed. My dangling balls and the head of my cock brushed against the embroidered silk of the coverlet as Benedict tugged me back and up onto my knees. I pressed my forehead into the bed and waited, biting my lip, forcing myself not to shove my ass higher in the air and beg.
His hands tightened around my hips and the head of his cock touched my hole. Another whisper of his magic, and slickness spread over my inner walls, around the rim of my hole, dripping down my balls, making me obscenely ready for him with no more than his will.
My rim stretched around him as he sank into me, slowly, letting me feel every inch of him. The fat cockhead, the ridge of the glans and then the slight relief from pressure as he narrowed below it, and then the increasing fullness of his thick shaft impaling me until I could hardly breathe.
Benedict bottomed out, his balls resting against mine, and stilled.
And then drew back just as slowly as he’d entered me.
And then in again, with only the way his fingers dug into me betraying his tension as he opened me, slid out, opened me, slid out again, until he had me on a knife’s edge of pleasure and desperation, my cock and balls achingly hard and tight. One touch would be enough to finish me, but I didn’t have the leverage to get a hand under my body.
