Page 62 of Ruthless Reign

She seemed to like the sound of that, her cheeks flushing as she preened for me with her arms behind her back. “Where do you want me, sir?”

I tried to ignore the effect that honorific had on me and how powerful it made me feel. She was a Caputi princess, royalty among peasants in her own right. To have her place her trust in me, especially in this den of iniquity, I had transcended the Gods. I could bend her, break her, have her gagging and crying by the end of the night, and then she’d thank me for it. Had two people ever been more perfect for each other?

I grabbed her collar with my index finger and pulled, leading her over to the throne.

“On your knees, pretty wife.” I nodded to the ground, and she sank with hardly any complaint. “Fuck, I love how well you listen.”

She stared up at me and jutted her chin, thoughts of defiance perhaps echoing behind her gaze. If she wanted to play the brat, I’d tame her, but I sensed that wasn’t where the night was going.

“The things I want to do to you, they’re downright filthy,” I murmured, kneeling in front of her. I traced a finger over the mounds of her breasts, watching as she shivered from the touch. Her skin pebbled, her nipples hardening just under this pathetic excuse for a dress, and that, too, sent another shock of arousal down to my balls. “And you’ll let me, won’t you?”

The muscles of her throat worked while she swallowed, but she didn’t reply, just maintained eye contact as I dragged my hand lower.

“Answer me,” I said.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, her voice nearly cracking.

I traced the curves of her body down to her thighs, ducking my fingers under the hemline to ghost them over her soft skin. She trembled harder.

“Are you scared?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I teased one leg and skipped completely over her cunt to trace down the other.

“No,” she said.

“No?” That amused me. “Such fearlessness. If I had brought you here months ago, you would have stabbed me in the throat and run away.”

She smirked. “If you had brought me here months ago, you would have been lucky if all I did was stab you in the throat.”

I tried not to laugh at her threat, wanting to stay in the right mindset to dominate her. My hand shot around her throat before I could stop it, and I leaned closer, bringing my face inches from hers.

“Careful,mogliettina,” I said, using the Italian term for little wife. “I can think of a thousand better uses for that tongue.”

She grinned as if to suggest I do something about it.

“Open up,” I said, and when she did, I shoved my index and middle finger inside. “Suck.”

Watching her wrap her pretty lips around my fingers paled in comparison to the euphoria that zapped down my spine and into my cock. She lapped at them, and I pushed them to the back of her throat, preparing her for what I had planned. With the other hand still on her windpipe, I could feel my ministrations through her muscles, and I imagined what it would be like to fuck her like this later. But I was nothing if not a gentleman. When I was satisfied that they were wet enough, I yanked them out and shoved them between her legs, pleased I had made her wear nothing under her skirt. She was already soaked, of course, but I lived to drench this pussy. She moaned when I rubbed at her clit, spearing through her skin with expert precision. I knew how to apply just the right amount of pressure, and when I massaged her while tightening my grip under her chin, she let out the most adorable whine and rocked against my hand.

“That’s it,” I said. “Get yourself off on my fingers.”

“Please, sir.” She fell forward into my hold, pressing her forehead against my jaw. “Please.”

I knew what she wanted. If there was one thing she liked coming on more than my cock or my tongue, it was my fingers. She wanted me to fuck her hard, to rub at that sweet spot on the inside and break her to pieces. When I pushed inside her, she groaned, and my cock gave another half-hearted jerk, desperate to replace my fingers.

Patience. I’ll get mine soon enough.

I fucked her, rubbing into her pussy while she mewled and shivered in my embrace. She gripped my button-down with her delicate fingers, undoubtedly creasing the expensive fabric, but that only spurned me on.

“You’re such a dirty girl,” I said, spewing the most depraved shit I could think of. “Letting me do this to you. Do you likefucking your king’s fingers? Do you like being on your knees while I take you?”

“Yes, yes,” she said. “Please. Harder.”

“Oh, I don’t respond to little sluts that don’t respect their lord.”

“Please, sir,” she said, emphasizing the honorific.

“Do you need to come?”

“Yes, sir. Please, my king. My lord. Please let me come.”

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