Page 38 of The Lycan King's Captive

But no, I thought as my gaze fluttered to his. That wasn’t right. He’d stayed away for a week, and he hadn’t once invaded my space or made any demands on me. Instead, he’d worked behind the scenes to make me comfortable.

And he’d protected me. He’d gone about it the wrong way, but he’d ensured Foster couldn’t toss me out simply because I was a werewolf.

And I was a werewolf. I couldn’t pretend otherwise just because I didn’t want to face the truth. I’d seen what Roman was capable of.

Looking at Cyrus now, I knew he’d never hurt me that way. Not even close. He didn’t want to own me like Roman did. Cyrus was possessive, but he was also honorable. “I never thanked you for saving my life,” I said. “For helping me through the transition.”

Surprise flared in his silver eyes. His voice was like gravel. “You’re a beautiful wolf when you shift.” His gaze moved down my body again. “But I find I prefer you in this form. Any male would kill to have you.”

The liquid heat between my legs flowed faster. I touched the mark on my neck, but this time I let my fingers trail down my throat to caress one of my taut nipples through the silk of my dress. “I thought I was already yours.”

The surprise flared again…and quickly turned to heat. “Yes, I suppose you are.” Slowly, deliberately, he crooked a finger at me. “Come over here.”

I moved as if in a dream, sliding my chair back and rounding the table. He’d given me strappy shoes to go with the dress, and my heels clicked softly. I’d worn my hair down, and it teased the small of my back where the dress plunged to just above my ass.

He caught my wrist and drew me between his spread thighs. Then he splayed his big hands across my hips as he gazed up at me with naked admiration. “You are perfection,” he rasped. He reached up and slipped the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders, letting the whole gown drop to the floor in a puddle of silk. I’d known it was coming, but I still gasped as I stood before him in nothing but my thong, stilettos, and jewelry.

And his mark. It seemed to throb on my neck, even though it was long since healed.

I throbbed other places, too. My breasts felt heavy and lush, my nipples tingling as desire pumped hard through my veins.

Cyrus growled. With a brutal twist, he ripped my thong away. His eyes locked on my pussy, and he groaned—a helpless sound that loosened my knees. “Turn around,” he bit out, as if it hurt him to speak.

I obeyed, and I didn’t resist as he settled me on his lap and spread my thighs wide. My pussy opened, all my secrets revealed. Damp heat touched the curve of my ear, and I moaned as the tip of his tongue teased my skin.

“Do you know,” he murmured, “what the old laws said about concubines?”

I shivered. “No…my lord.” The title flowed naturally from my lips. My knees were hooked over the arms of his chair, and cool air caressed the heated flesh between my legs. I should have felt exposed. Instead, I let my head rest on his hard shoulder as I tried not to squirm with need.

His big hands came around and cupped my bare breasts, testing their weight. His warm breath tickled my ear. “Under the old laws, a concubine could only accept what her king gave her.” He rolled my nipples between his fingers, squeezing gently. “If he wanted her naked, she stayed naked.”

My breath hitched. An image formed in my mind—me wriggling nude on his lap in the middle of some huge, ancient banquet, hundreds of eyes watching me battle back an orgasm as he stroked my clit. In my mind’s eye, he showed no mercy, his fingers fondling my pussy under the rapt gazes of his subjects.

I wished he would touch me there now. I wanted to plunge my hand between my thighs and assuage my need, but something about waiting for his direction heightened my desire. I could only wait, splayed out and panting, until he decided what came next. He was the king, and I served at his pleasure.

He brushed his fingertips over the diamond pendant that lay on my chest. “If the king wanted his concubine in nothing but diamonds, she wore diamonds. Or sapphires or emeralds. Maybe a pair of golden clamps just here”—he pinched my nipple—“and here”—he pinched the other. “Maybe a jeweled plug between her cheeks.” He lifted his hips, nudging his hard cock against my most sensitive place. Between that and the erotic picture he painted, I whimpered with need.

“He could do anything he pleased with her.” Cyrus trailed languid fingertips down my stomach and let them rest gently over my sopping entrance. “He could pierce her here”—he stroked my clit— “and put a pretty ring through her pussy so he could keep her on a leash.” He nuzzled under my ear. “Can you imagine it, sweetheart? Being led about by your clit? Just the slightest tug and you’d know to spread for your lord.”

Wicked desire curled through me. I was so wet I was dripping. I chanced a look down and saw that my clit was red and engorged. My nipples poked lewdly. Cyrus’s filthy history lesson had me ready to come and he’d barely touched my clit.

“Please,” I moaned, lifting my hips.

His chuckle vibrated my back. “A concubine took from her king and only her king.” He plucked a grape from the table and held it to my lips. “A concubine could only eat from the hand of her lord. Open.”

I opened, and he placed the grape in my mouth. As the juices burst on my tongue, he reached between my legs and rubbed my clit. My eyes fluttered shut, and I arched helplessly.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he murmured, “open wide for your king.” He slid his fingers down to my entrance and plunged inside me. He pumped in and out, and the sound of my wetness filled the air.

Lust sizzled through me. My whole body was a pleasure zone, each nerve ending crackling with need. I rolled my hips, fucking his fingers shamelessly.

“Good girl,” he crooned. With his free hand, he fed me another grape. The cool juices were a surprisingly tantalizing contrast to the heat blistering between my legs and across my skin. I bucked hard against his fingers, desperate for more.

“Please,” I gasped. My breasts bounced with my movements. I was bucking so hard now, I had a fleeting thought I might topple the chair.

Cyrus pulled his hand from my pussy, and I cried out at the loss. But my torment was short-lived, because he grasped my hips and turned me so I straddled him, my tits on level with his face and my pussy lined up with his cock. The scent of my arousal swirled thickly around us. His fingers on my hips were damp with my juices.

“Yes,” I gasped, gripping his shoulders. The diamond pendant brushed my skin. My pussy throbbed, my swollen flesh hot and aching. “Yes, my lord. I need…”

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