Page 33 of Crown of Steel

His lips brush over mine and I hiss at the touch, cool, and commanding. I watch in fascination when his lips part and histongue darts out, tracing the outline of my lips. The corners, the seam. He pokes his probing wetness against my firmly pressed lips until I yield, opening my mouth to let him in. He groans at the victory, his tongue dipping in and coming out for mine. Head falling back onto the wooden trunk, I accept our mouths melting together and our tongues playing around. It feels so fucking good. The bliss he brings with his mouth, his sound, his smell. Our hard, dripping cocks intermingle inside his unyielding fist, erasing our earlier dispute. His tongue plunges around with adamant determination, and I break apart, falling when my body mollifies into his. Moaning, I let him claim my mouth, my body, as I gyrate my hips against his, feeling desperate, overwhelmed, and so, so hot.

“Ugh, oh fuck, oh god,” I muffle into his mouth, nails digging deeper into the material of his coat, not even remembering I put them there in the first place.

And then I explode. Everything around me vanishes, apart from Arthur and me. I clutch on to him, sinking into the orgasm being wrung out of me. At some stage I hear him let out a choked grumble, then his warm release touches my cock. It shouldn’t be sexy, but it fucking feels that way. Here he is, Arthur Deveraux, one of the most popular guys in college and my stepbrother. So handsome, so nasty, and he wants me.

Time stands still when our breaths fill the air. Rapid puffs and rattling hearts that take a moment to calm down. Then—

“Clean this for me,” Arthur whispers, holding out his hand in front of my mouth. “With your tongue. Like the sweetchatonyou are.”

I stare at him, as if trying to figure out if it’s a joke. But I only see his dark eyes and that waiting hand. Its long, slender fingers that were wrapped around me just before. It’s dripping from our combined cum. This shouldn’t… But it does. So my tongue darts out and I start licking his fingers clean, one by one, suckling them into my mouth, my eyes locked on his. I’ve never tasted cum before, and it’s warm and salty, its texture a little different.

“Good boy,” Arthur purrs, a satisfied glint intermingled with cockiness in those onyx depths. His free hand pets my hair, plays with my curls, while I continue to lick and clean. Because those words of praise flutter in my stomach and make me want to finish the job even better. When I have cleaned every single centimeter of his palm and fingers, he moves his hand, and I need to fight the strange urge to follow him and get his fingers back into my mouth. That gentle caress in my hair.

I can’t, Ishouldn’t. It’s too much, and I can’t fall for that hoarse voice telling me that I’m doing a great job. Instead I switch back to the normal Régis, to the one I have carefully moulded. The one who’s even more annoyed now for wanting something he shouldn’t want.

Arthur closes his pants and reorganizes his coat. “Get yourself dressed.” When I finish by pulling the jacket a little tighter around my shoulders, he clicks his tongue disapprovingly, then grabs the raincoat with the typical Saint-Laurent marine-blue and caramel color from his pocket and folds it out. “Put this on as well, it’s getting chilly.”

“Fuck you,” I want to say. But I don’t. Right now, I need him to get me out of the dark of this forest and back to our dorm. So I obey like the pathetic loser I am, letting him pull the sleeves around my wrists and over my arms. He eyes me over, then nods.

“Good. Now, you are not going to like this, but there is no escaping from that invitation—”

“Oh, like hell there is. I never applied to some frat house.”

Arthur shakes his head and lets out thattsskagain. It’s fucking patronizing and makes me fume inside. “How many times do I have to tell you that the rules are different here? We are not some public university, Régis. If that’s what you wanted, you should have gone to study in Toulouse.” He waits a beat, asif he’s expecting me to protest. When I don’t speak, he continues. “You’ve got to set your own, small mindset to the side. For this college, you are a Deveraux. And we are wealthy and very, very powerful. And as such, we act like it. So, man up, little Régis, and come with me. I’ll show you about the brotherhood. You can ask me your questions.”

Biting my lip, I look away. I don’t know what to think of this. If it’s a prank, it sure is a complicated one. I mean, he’s right, it is getting seriously cold in the woods. He could have easily done it inside our dorm. But a brotherhood? I mean, seriously… I did not see that one coming.

“On one condition,” I decide, feeling brave.

“On one condition?” Arthur rumbles, sounding amused. Yeah, I guess I would be too if I was standing in his shoes.

“No touching.” My face flushes at the insinuation.

There’s a beat of silence, then, “No touching?” Arthur lets out an incredulous bark, then gestures at me to follow him. And like the pathetic wimp I am, both curious and too scared to be left alone in the woods, I follow him deeper into the pitch-dark forest. Long, slender digits curl around my smaller hand. “Régis, if I want to touch you, I will touch you. If I want to tease you, I will tease you.”

For a second, I fear that he’s seriously going to leave me behind in the darkness. He doesn’t. Instead, he turns around and moves onto my chest, tipping up my chin with a featherlight touch.

“And if I want to fuck you, I will fuck you.” His voice is nothing more than a smoldering grumble. “Are we clear,chaton?”

“Fuck you,” I spit.

His lips curl into a nasty smirk, then he leans in and brushes his lips against mine. “Good boy, Régis. Now, let me show you what’s lurking for you in the darkness.”

9

ARTHUR

We walk through the darkened shrubs for what feels like hours. There are no lights out here apart from the murky glow of the moon that glitters through the oak trees, illuminating the sand path ahead of us. Not that I need it—I know these grounds like the back of my hand from the numerous nights I have spent out here with the brothers.

Next to me, Régis is mostly silent, aside from the occasional swear word that leaves his mouth on a mutter as he makes another misstep. Anxiety rolls off his shoulders in thick waves, his spine rigid and his shoulders tense. Perhaps I should try to comfort him, make him feel at ease. But during the ten minute walk, the stubborn fuck won’t speak.

Until now.

“Wow…” Régis suddenly halts, stumbling into my side. I can hear his breath hitch as he stares right ahead of us. Casually, I curl my hand around his limber waist and squeeze him a little closer. Before I can think things through, I’ve already turned my head to inhale a waft of his enticing scent.

Right across from us, in the middle of a sphere created by trees, shrubs and grass, combined with more sand that takes usdirectly to its heart, stands the Atrium. The building that, according to the official paperwork of the Alpha Fraternarii, was built by the nobles once they set foot inside Monterrey Castle and was meant forsoiréesorganized by the brothers.

“Pretty impressive, right?”

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