Page 91 of Bride By Coronation

Her red cheeks glisten with sweat. Her greens flood with exhaustion.

I return to her pussy, making her come several more times until she squirts her arousal all over my mouth. I groan, lapping it up, until I realize the gong's been clanging nonstop.

Shit.

I blink, out of breath, swiping my arm over my mouth, not taking my gaze off hers.

Her chest rises and falls in short bursts. She slowly relaxes against the bed, her fingers peel away from the chains, and she keeps her focus on me.

The gong blares four times. The knights at the end of the bed reel the chains until Fiona's ankles are in the air.

I move so my thighs are against the back of hers, dragging my knuckles over her breasts and stomach.

She quivers, opens her mouth, then shuts it.

The gong sounds two times.

A knight holds out his sword. "Your Majesty."

I create some room between Fiona and me and take it from him.

Her head jerks against the mattress.

I instruct, "Don't move, little bird."

She holds her breath with fear blooming on her expression. "Kirill?—"

"Shh," I order.

She swallows hard.

I reach for the soaking lace, tug it toward me, and slice through it. Then I hold the material taut and slowly slice it straight over her belly button and through her cleavage.

Goose bumps pop out on her flawless skin.

I put the flat of the blade across her neck.

She freezes.

"I hope you remember what I told you earlier," I state, not wanting to do what I'm about to do.

It's a test. There's only one way out of it for her. If she doesn't obey and do what I told her, she's dead.

She blinks a few times.

The crowd is silent.

I move the lingerie to the sides, assessing my bride, approving of her hard, pink nipples, soft belly, and graceful, elongated neck. More pre-cum oozes from my throbbing cock. I lift the sword and return it to the knight.

The arena fills with hissing. It's the loudest it's been, and it digs into me until I sink into the zone, forgetting everything and everyone but my wife, the queen of The Underworld, and the bride I hope stays alive.

In one thrust, I enter her, groaning with short-lived relief.

She gasps, her eyelids fluttering.

Jesus. She took all of me.

I praise, "That's right, my queen. Your king's going to reward you for your good service." I slide my hand up her stomach, over her breast, and curl my fingers around her throat.

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