Page 26 of Kiss the Filthiest King

I’m certainly not going to deny her a second orgasm—or deny myself a first—because the mortal is a Peeping Tom, or a pearl clutcher, I can’t quite tell. Maybe a bit of both.

We’re so very close.

“You’re hurting her, you lunatic!” the mortal yells, striding forward self-righteously. “She can’t breathe.”

She has the audacity to climb onto the bed and wrap her tiny hands around my arm.

I laugh, my hand leaving her sister’s clit to grab her neck too, and pin her down on the bed.

“Ryther!” Darina manages to whine. “Let—let her go.”

“But it seems like your little sister wants to play.” I am delighted, by the sheer, cruel salaciousness of it all.

Given the sharp intake of breath I catch, the mortal isn’t as outraged as she’d like to pretend—or at least, not only outraged. She wants this, to some extent.

Unfortunately for her, I’m not even remotely interested in anything but teaching her her place.

“Get on all fours, lower those lewd, skin-clinging things you call pants to your knees and wait your turn,” I demand.

“Ryther!”

I stop choking the mortal only to flatten my free palm against Darina’s mouth as the sister moves to comply, her body betraying her. She’s shaking as she presents that plump ass to me and eases her pants down, leaving nothing but a string of black fabric between her cheeks. Mortals truly do have the most interesting ideas about underwear.

“You wanted her to stay,” I remind her. “Without any protection, any idea what she was getting herself into. You can watch the result. Touch yourself, girl,” I demand.

I’m certainly not about to do it.

Darina’s struggling beneath me, and I can feel power gathering inside her, but she’s not about to call upon the devastating magic with her fragile sister so close. Instead, she flails. Her legs kick. Her hands try to push me, stop me.

I flip her to her back, twisting her arms that are gathered in one of my hands as I dive back into her cunt, tight and wet as ever.

I snag a fistful of her hand and lift her bust so she’s watching her puppet sister finger herself between sobs. “Look at her. I didn’t eventry. Any of the folk can do this to her. Anyone can do far worse.”

“You’re a fucking asshole!” she screams.

I chuckle, letting go of her hair. “Thank you for the reminder.”

My fingers spread her ass cheeks now, and I slide my index past the ring of tight muscle in her ass. “I did forget how much you like fucking assholes.”

I only finger her because we’re both at the brink of the precipice and I want—no, Ineed—to come inside her pussy. To fill her. To spill my seed inside her womb.

Mine, mine, mine.

Despite all her outrage and anger, Darina’s panting, her breathing hitching in her throat as her cunt strangles my cock. Then she’s drenching me for the second time, that hole swallowing me so deep, I can’t help but come with her.

By all the gods. I lose my sight, and tremble all over, coming so much it dazes me. It’s all I can do not to slump over her, utterly spent.

My eyes cut to the sister, who mopes and whines and fingers herself, still.

“Mayhap you’ve learned to stay out of what doesn’t concern you,” I say, though I doubt it. “You may stop and go. The next time I find you in my presence without protection, I’ll assume you wish to shove something in your cunt again.”

“Ryther!” Darina snaps, sitting up to slap my face.

I let her. I even smile. “This lesson was for you, too. If you wish her to stay, this is her fate.”

“Don’t think I don’t know you enjoyed it.”

I enjoyed embarrassing and enraging her. I care nothing for the mortal whose name I didn’t even bother to learn.

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