Page 64 of Burn

Briar dug her palms into the surface and ground her hips, beating her cunt over my cock, matching every pass. The desk quaked, more innocent objects fell off the edge, and a ripping noise cut through the cacophony of moans as her nightgown tore.

Indeed, something did break. But it wasn’t only my fault.

With a fiendish smirk, I lanced into Briar. My cock expanded and spread her lips around me, the magnitude bumping her forward and backward.

Briar’s free hand found purchase at the tabletop’s rim. She clung to me, taking every slam of my cock, the pleats of her cunt hot, slick, and wetting from the roof to the seat.

My growls collided with her cries until both tangled. Blood rushed from my sac to my slit.

We pumped into one another, staring, gazing. My mouth hung ajar, and my features scrunched in the most blissful pain. I groaned and held back, pitching into her until that darling pussy began to ripple.

Briar’s lips fell apart, then a prolonged cry splintered from her throat. Her pussy came, the walls undulating around my cock.

Ah. Not all the way, sweeting.

I hummed, snatched her hips, and drew her above my mouth, broadening her thighs atop the desk. Like this, she fucking drizzled onto my lips. I went at her again, pelting my tongue against her clit until a second climax joined the first.

Then again. And fucking again.

Only when Briar’s folds squeezed my cock in the third orgasm did the release consume me. With a deep, resonant growl, I pitched my crown, and she swatted her hips on mine. The length of my flesh twitched until those spots from earlier burst.

My body locked, my cock jolting as it gushed into Briar. I bellowed against the underside of her chin, my pleasure overlapping with hers, so that I couldn’t tell which of us screamed louder.

And over the next weeks, so it went.

Frequently.

22

Poet

“On your knees,” I rasped.

The princess’s reply seared across my lips. “Be careful what you ask of a Royal.”

In an ornate, zigzagging stairwell entombed in darkness, she pressed me against the mahogany wall, slid down my frame, and sank to her knees. Eventide poured a faint violet haze across the steps. Dressed in a sable black leather jacket dress, Briar stooped to the ground, and I felt her palms sizzle along my ribs and waist.

“Here?” she inquired, her voice echoing as she rushed her fingers over my abdomen.

“Aye,” I gritted out, my muscles flexing under her touch.

“And here?” she wondered, altering her voice to sound like a virgin, innocent and chaste as though she were one of my former targets. “Pray tell? Is this where I should touch, Sir?”

“It is, Princess,” I hissed whilst she sketched her hands over my ass. “How obliging of my sovereign.”

“I’m glad to meet with your approval.” Daintily, Briar’s palms traced my hip bones, then dipped to the rigid bulge of my cock. “Oh,” she pretended to gasp. “What about here?”

A half-laugh, half-groan fled my being. “Indeed. There.”

“And may I taste it?” she begged like a maiden. “Please?”

I barely had the sense to recite the alphabet, much less to nod. This, as if she could see the gesture through the darkness. Nonetheless, the princess knew.

My groan turned into a hiss, the noise slithering down the chute as her fingers plucked the closures open. The hollow chamber amplified our breathing, and the looming shadows intensified every sensation. Briar’s hot breath coasted over my cock, which strained from my leather pants. The weight of it rested heavily against my pelvis, as stiff as cement.

And then another noise sheared from my mouth as Briar’s wet lips sealed around the tip. “Fuck,” I muttered, the word multiplying down the tunnel.

We’d been returning from one of the confidential passages, the better to unearth Rhys’s plan. The channel had proven secure, with no recent signs of disturbance.

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