Page 103 of Pretty Little Prey
She had not fully thought this through. Her thinking was:Daxton is nice, sexy, and says he can reverse my vampirism. I’ll stay with him until he does. Now, it was:Oh gods, he is going to marry me, and I am going to become queen of the Light Ones, and the idea of it might…excite me?
It would certainly piss off Bastille.
Lost in her thoughts, Luna echoed dumbly, “Coronation?”
“We will marry as soon as you are back to your original state. We will perform the mandatory ceremonies, and you will become Queen. Then, with my ring on your pretty finger, we will fuck for days,Neeuck.” He had used that word before and explained that it meantqueen. “You will forget what it was like to not have me inside you. To not come every hour.” A rumble shook his chest. “I will keep my mate utterly satisfied.”
“Marrying seems, um, fast.” Yes, she was angry with the Dark Ones for turning her into a vampire against her will, but that did not mean she was ready to sign up for being a gosh darnqueen.
“Dragons marry the second they meet their mate.”
“What if, later on, they don’t like them?”
Daxton chuckled loudly as if she was jesting. “They aremates,” he said like that explained everything.
Mates can hate each other and fight, she thought to herself.Just look at how Bastille felt about me. She shook her head.Stop thinking about Bastille!
“I know you are experiencing need,” Daxton said, moving his hot, wide palms to her thighs, running them up and down. Squeezing at her tender flesh. “I may not be able to move inside you tonight.” A slow, mischievous smile claimed his lips. “But I can still satisfy you.”
Stunned, she watched as he picked up a paintbrush with a long, wide wooden staff. He held the brush by its bristles, pointing the rounded, smooth cylinder end toward her.
“W-What are you going to do with that?” she stuttered.
In one smooth, impossibly fast move, Daxton rolled them until she laid flat on her back on the floor, and he loomed over her body.
He wrenched her thighs apart, flashing her bare, damp pink flesh at him, and settled between her legs so she could not close them. His fingernails lengthened to black claws as he shredded the sides of her white robe apart and revealed her heaving breasts and hard nipples.
“Perfection,” he muttered while his dark, heated gaze raked over her.
Claws disappearing, he traced his fingers down her chest, grazing her hardening nipples, until his hands lingered at her slick folds. He lifted the wooden end of the paintbrush to circle her swollen clit. The bundle of nerves throbbed, making her pussy spasm in a direct response to the sensation of the smooth wood rubbing over her pulsing bud.
Daxton leaned down to suck one of her taut pink nipples into his mouth.
She cried out as he gave a hard suck and tapped the wooden brush handle against her clit.Tap, tap. “Oh!” Her head fell back, her spine arching.
Another powerful suction on the tip of her breast. Then,tap, tap.
“Daxton.”
He released her reddened nipple from his mouth. “Fucking love my name on your lips.”
He kissed along her chest before dipping his head lower. Lips pressing over her stomach, down her abdomen. Down, down, until his face was level with her wetness. He cursed as he examined the lush, damp heat of her. A blush darkened her cheeks as she watched his nostrils flare. As if a wave of pure lust crashed through him, the black pupils of his golden eyes grew narrow and serpentine-like. He licked his lips and breathed in her scent.
“My mate,” he muttered in a hoarse voice. “My future wife. Queen.” He rubbed the wooden paintbrush end over her swollen clit and purred when her thighs quivered. “This pussy is mine now,” he warned, dragging the paintbrush through her slit, down to align with her entrance.
More wetness gushed from her as she witnessed his hungry expression. He pressed the smooth, hard cylinder in just enough for her pussy to feel the invasion of the tip—to crave the feeling of being filled—before he pulled it back out of her.
“My pussy,” he repeated. “Say it.”
“Y-Yours.”
“Who do you belong to?”
Bastille had asked the same question. She bit her lip and gyrated her hips for more of his touch.
“Who do you belong to, Luna?”
What if she didn’twantto belong to anyone?A lie. Because when Bastille and Daxton looked at her like that—like she melted their entire world—she wanted to belong to them. Both of them? Bastille would never allow it.
