Page 90 of Bride By Coronation

To my surprise, she doesn't fight. I assumed she would, and I'd have to beg her to calm down. Then Ulrich would have gotten involved and asked her if she wanted to stop, only to kill her if she said yes.

Thankfully, I was wrong. She keeps her eyes locked on me, her breath rolling past her parted lips.

Two other knights tug chains from the top of the bed toward Fiona. The links clink together, causing her to turn her head.

"Look at me," I order.

She obeys, swallowing hard.

Cuffs lock around her wrists. The same sound fills the air, and the length of the chain forces her onto her toes.

"Enough," I assert, and the noise stops.

A few moments pass, with tension growing between us. My body floods with an ache so deep I have to remind myself of my duties as king. I finally demand, "Display the queen's beauty for all to see."

Two knights reach for my bride, putting one hand under her armpit and another on her waist. They carefully move her toward the top of the bed and lie her on her back. Two others shackle her ankles. Metal clatters again until her legs are secured and spread open. The knights take their swords, holding them in the air above Fiona, and touching the one directly across from them.

She lifts her head, meets my gaze, and furrows her eyebrows. Her pink tongue darts out of her mouth, lightly grazing her pouty lips. Then I think my mind is playing games on me again. I swear a smile teases her face, directed at me, pushing against her flushed cheeks.

My cock throbs and pre-cum escapes the slit. She's the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen, and I don't understand why my little bird isn't giving me the same look as other women. Nothing is hiding me anymore, and my wife's taunting expression baffles me.

The gong bangs once, and the arena falls silent.

My pulse races faster. I step under the swords, kneel on the end of themattress, and slide my hands over the inside of her legs, inching toward the damp lace between her thighs.

She shudders, whimpering, oddly enough sounding exactly how I've imagined all these months. She closes her eyes, leans her head back, and lifts her pelvis, opening her mouth.

"Sexy little bird," I praise, stopping before her pussy, circling my thumbs several times.

"Mmm," she softly moans, her chest trembling. She grips the chains and meets my gaze.

I slip my thumbs under the wet material until they touch her hole, taunting, "A queen serves her king. When she does, she gets rewarded. Is that what you want, my little bird? To have me reward you?" I thrust my thumbs inside her until her pussy hits my palm.

"Oh!" she cries out, arching her back and yanking on the chains.

I bend my thumbs, swirling my pads against her inner walls, watching her with awe, ready to remember every response she gives me.

Her whimpers turn louder. Ragged breath escapes her mouth. Green flames burn brighter in her eyes as they challenge me, not escaping my scrutiny.

The arena fills with women moaning. Men grunt and pound their torches on the ground. The room grows hotter, and the knights don't dare move, making urgent, guttural sounds.

I lower my face, keeping my thumbs inside her, and press my mouth to the lace.

"Oh!" she cries out louder.

I glance at her, swiping my tongue over the material, flicking her clit with every swipe.

"Kirill," she breathes, her body shaking harder.

I push deeper, circle faster, and curl my pointer finger over the wet material, pulling it out of the way. I suck her clit, groaning at the salty sweetness I never thought I'd get to taste.

"Oh fuck!" she rasps, grinding her pussy against my face, yanking on the chains so hard they creak.

My obsession takes over all decisions. I work her pussy with my mouth, making her come over and over, her body in a constant state of convulsions.

Her voice cracks, "I-I can't take any more."

Feeling crazed, I barely stop, arrogantly insisting, "You're the queen. Your job is to serve me."

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