Page 25 of The Midnight King

When he’s done, he shifts me over a few steps against the bookshelf. He loops the belt binding my wrists over a lantern hook affixed to a high shelf, so my arms will stay stretched above my head. I’m helpless to him, my breasts bare and my body prey to his hands.

The expression of fierce desire in his ice-gray eyes sends a quiver of anticipation along every nerve I own. He holds my gaze, unwavering, while he gathers my skirts, bunching them around my waist. His hand cups between my legs, fingertips slicking the thin, wet material over my pussy, tracing the shape of the two lips, then touching the sensitive bits of flesh between them. I let out a sound I’ve never made before—a faint mew of helpless desire.

His hand dips beneath the waistband of the underwear, swirling over me. Then he shows me his fingers, shining and dripping. “Do you see this? What your body does for me?”

I nod, my teeth catching my lower lip.

He notices at once. “Stop that, or I’ll have to kiss you.”

“Kiss me then.”

“Not until you come in my hand like a good girl.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I breathe.

He slides the panties a little way down my thighs, then curls his fingers over my pussy again. First he simply rubs me, moving his hand back and forth, slowly at first, then faster, faster, impossibly fast. It’s a direct, brutal stimulation of my clit, and within seconds I’m right on the verge of coming. But hestops and plunges his hand deeper between my thighs, sinking two fingers inside me.

I shriek softly, jerking my wrists against the belt. He looks up, questioning, and I nod to let him know he can keep going. Again he thrusts with those fingers, but he ramps up to a speed that has me gasping tight little screams. Wet slapping sounds echo through the library as those two fingers thrust into my cunt and the heel of his hand beats against my clit, over and over.

I come with a gush of ecstasy, my pussy spasming against his palm. I’m helpless to the pleasure, and yet I feel the same rush of liberated euphoria that I experienced last time.

The King grips me tightly between the legs, cupping my pussy firmly while I tremble in his hand.

When the pleasure ebbs, he pulls his fingers out with a sucking squelch, then runs his thick thumb over my sensitive clit. I whimper and jerk, and he pats my wet pussy with a chuckle.

“Keep that pretty cunt open for me,” he says, and I spread my thighs wider as he takes out his cock. He’s hard again, which surprises me. Lowering himself slightly, he angles his cock and pushes it up into the slick warmth of my body. A moan of relief issues from him as he sheathes himself to the hilt.

He fucks me against the bookshelves with such force that they tremble, even though they’re huge, heavy pieces of furniture. But they hold up to his passionate frenzy better than I do—I come again almost immediately, sobbing and panting with the exquisite bliss of the release.

Bound with my hands above my head, with a King braced against me, rutting into my body with ferocious desperation, I realize with stunned joy that I feel happier than I have ever been.

And immediately a crushing despair descends on my soul, because I can’t imagine feeling this way again, with anyone else. I can’t picture a future where the King wants me for more than a distraction or a dalliance. From the rumors I’ve heard, hismistresses never last more than a couple of months at most—usually less.

I close my eyes and focus on the crash of his body against mine, the fullness of his cock inside me, the throbbing heat as he comes. I will enjoy what’s happeningnow. I refuse to let the future steal the bliss of this moment.

He goes still, panting, his cock twitching once more, deep in my body. Then he growls, “Fuck it,” and kisses me.

A storm of fervent emotion explodes through my chest at the contact. He’s shaking as we kiss, his grip locked on the bookshelves, his arms rigid and straining. His lips feel wet, not smooth, and I taste salt. Is he crying? I can’t tell when I open my eyes—we’re both in shadow between the bookshelves.

The kiss is a thunderburst, intense and fervent, over as quickly as it began. He’s breathing harshly, and I can’t tell whether the emotion he’s feeling is from the kiss or something else.

When he drags his cock out of me, his cum runs down my leg.

For a moment he leaves me there while he turns his back and composes himself. Then he removes the belt from my wrists and puts it back on, while I straighten my clothes.

“Do you have to run off again?” he asks. “Or can you stay a while?”

Since my father’s pocket watch is glamoured, I can’t use it to check the time. I step out from between the bookshelves and look for the grandfather clock that alerted me last night. It’s nearly eleven.

“I have some time.” I wonder if I should wait to make my request, but since there’s only an hour left, I decided to plunge in. “If Your Majesty would indulge a girl’s curiosity—I’ve heard that this library contains books about Faerie magic. Your son mentioned that the two of you like to study other realms, and Iwas wondering if I might look at a few of the books? The subject fascinates me.”

“Books on Faerie magic?” he repeats.

“Yes, in the hidden vault.” I wince. “I know it’s silly of me to ask—you probably can’t show those books to common visitors—”

“You’re anything but a common visitor. Close your eyes and wait here, please.”

I shut my eyes, scarcely daring to hope that it could be this easy, that he would give up the secret so readily. I listen to him pacing first in one direction, then another. There’s a swish of heavy drapery, then a faint grinding sound, like something heavy sliding back.

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