Page 157 of Jewel of the Assassin
Before I finish, she fires. The gun snaps from Oleg’s hand, clattering across the floor. The men freeze. My security streams in, pinning him before he can recover. Valentina blows the smoke from the barrel, winks at me, and I can’t help but smirk while I finish my drink.
I sweep my arms wide. “I do hope you’ve enjoyed yourselves thus far,” I announce, voice echoing, “but the show is not yet finished. My wife has…a passionate appetite. And as her king, it’s my duty and honor to whet that appetite. Tonight, you will witness a real treat. But let us not spoil the surprise yet.”
She beams at me, and my hand lowers to test her pussy, finding her even more slick.
I flick my eyes to Oleg, restrained and struggling, and issue the command to my security, “Strip him. On the table, on his back. Shackle his wrists and ankles.” Each movement executed flawlessly, precise.
I bring Valentina’s mouth to mine, kissing her fiercely, tasting silk and fire. Then I hand her a gold and jewel-encrusted dagger. “Enjoy yourself, Moya Koroleva,” I whisper. Her fingers close around it with a feral grip, her eyes glimmering.
She isn’t intimidated, not by these men, not by me. The corner of my mouth lifts. She’s ruthless. Perfect.
I tilt my head slightly as Valentina crawls onto the table, her body arching with the flawless combination of lethal grace and divine form. My eyes linger on her ass as she positions herself over Oleg.
“Ahh,” I murmur, voice smooth, amused, “that is my hellion of an empress. Notice how she does not toy around, gentlemen? She goes right for the jewels. She is quite fond of them, after all.” My lips twist into a proud smile as she leers down at Oleg, eyes aflame. He jerks in the chains.
“Trying to kill my husband wasn’t your worst choice, Oleg,” she croons while he whimpers. “No…trying to kill him when his queen was at his side? That was yourgraveerror.”
Fuck, I love her.
While she works, her authority absolute and terrifying, I casually pass around the contract details. Each tycoon leans forward, trying to appear composed, but Oleg’s screams make a few of them blanch. One even lunges over his chair to retch. Heat courses through me at her unflinching wrath.
When Valentina finishes, she gingerly places the castrated organ on Oleg’s head, her hands steady, her eyes bright with royal fire. She tosses her hair back onto her shoulder, the ends marked by her work, and turns to me, a queen returning to her throne.
My cock is hard as a scepter as she crawls back to me, her hands leaving bloody prints across the table. Her arousal drops with them. As she slides back to my side, she offers me the dagger. God, her tits jiggle with her heaving breath, the adrenaline still humming through her. After giving her a handkerchief, I clean the blade carefully, then pull her onto my lap again.
I grin dangerously at the tycoons, letting my gaze roam over each of them, asserting sharp dominance. “I trust the contract terms are satisfactory.”
They do not miss a beat. One by one, without even reading, they scrawl their signatures, eyes flicking nervously to us. Shock and awe are written on every face, but beneath it lies respect—and fear.
Together, we don’t just play the game. We own the board.
I prove it when I bend her over the table, yank on the choker so the pearls clatter to the floor, but catch the diamond—all so I may slide the jewel into her drenched depths. Valentina whines in protest, but her pussy still sucks it in like the good girl she is.
“Hold it there, Moya Samotsvet.” I lower my voice, breathing the command along her ear. “Hold the jewel, and do not let it drop.”
In full view of my new syndicate, I take my belt to her lovely bottom. She’s healed well since our last time about two weeks ago. But I’ll never tire of leaving my marks on her skin. Most of the time, it’s by my hand.
Tonight, it’s my belt. Because she went full-on savage, my little hellion, and she requires grounding for that feral energy. She needs to know who is still in control, who rules over her. She may move with freedom, but I hold her chain, reserving the right to bring her back to me at any time I damn well choose.
This is not punishment. It’s worship, dark and primal. Syndicate members’ pupils dilate, their muscles tense with the lust for what they cannot have as I lash her ass with the leather, licking at her plump flesh. She twists and groans, her nipples rubbing against the hardwood of the table, her cries muffled from her sealed lips, and pretty tears wetting her flushed cheeks. But my wife takes it so damn beautifully.
Once I’ve cooked her bottom raw, I cup her mound, feeling the soft, wet lips and her pussy shuddering, straining to hold in the gem. A hint of it has slipped beyond her opening, but asidefrom that, she has performed perfectly. As she always does. So, I touch her burning clitoris and catch the diamond when it drops, then rub her flaming ass. She hisses, clenching those cheeks, but her hips lift with her desire.
“You want to be fucked, woman?” My woman.
She nods furiously.
“Where?”
A pause. And then…voice cracking, she says, “Wherever you desire, Moya Korona.”
I notch myself to her pussy and shove inside the soaked heaven. She yelps from the suddenness, but I train my eyes on the viewers, sharpening them with a warning. “Keep your dicks in your pants. Or under the table. I don’t give a fuck if you ruin your pants. The only dick Valentina Makarova will see tonight is mine. The only dick worthy enough to honor a queen.”
When her cunt clamps down mercilessly, betraying how much that aroused her, I shake my head with a laugh. Her cries and moans of pleasure echo through the room as her pussy pulses all around my cock.
Fisting her hair and yanking her back, I growl low in her ear, “Did I give you permission to come?”
She shakes her head. “No, my Lord.”
