Page 17 of The King's Omega
“No, say it. What is the word if you want this to stop?” He began rolling up his sleeves deliberately, and my eyes fell to the corded muscles that he revealed inch by inch.
My mouth was so dry I wasn’t sure how I spoke. “M-Mischief.”
“Very good.” Vilkurn pushed my hair back, a piece of dark cloth in his hand. “You will wear this. Let us begin.” He placed the cloth band over my eyes and darkness fell, but my universe exploded with light as his hands slid from my face to my neck and lower.
“Relax, kitten,” he instructed. “There’s no way to escape. Let yourself feel. Cry out if you need to.” His fingers traveled in wide circles around my breasts, and my nipples rose, demanding attention.
“C-cry out? You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“And I won’t.” Then his mouth was right next to my ear. “But you’ll want me to. You’ll beg me to touch you harder, to press into your soft flesh, and I won’t. I won’t give you what you need.”
“W-what I n-need?” I was panting, almost dizzy with a strange feeling. The trickle of wetness between my thighs kept flowing, and every time a droplet slipped free of my opening, both men inhaled deeply.
“What you need.” The fingers moved closer to my nipples now, but so slowly I thought I might expire before he touched them. I arched my back, or tried to.
“Ah, ah, kitten.” The finger stopped, moved farther away from the tight, aching buds. “You’re being tortured, remember? Lie there and take it.”
I let out a small sob, and Axe growled from the door. Suddenly, the thought of Vilkurn touching me so intimately, while Axe watched, consumed me. I wanted him to watch, to see my body.
I wanted his hands on me as well.
Who had I become? I had never felt this way, never felt the deep ache that thrummed in my core, my stomach cramping, the lips of my sex swollen and pounding.
The fingers began moving again, circling closer to my nipples. I held still, trembling, silent, as they reached the peaks, brushed them lightly, and retreated.
Again. And again. And finally, when tears streaked down the sides of my face, those fingers moved to pinch the nipple of first one breast, and then the other, so softly it burned.
“You are magnificent, sweet Vali. Do you want me to stop? You know what to say.”
I shook my head frantically. More than anything, more than my next breath, I needed more. Needed Vilkurn to take those buds in his fingers—Goddess, in hismouth—and twist and pull and… I released a long, keening cry as the fingers vanished.
“You see, sweet girl? It is torture. You won’t have to lie if the king asks. You won’t have to pretend. Now, let’s see what other lovely places I can torture next.”
Inch by inch, Vilkurn’s fingers awakened every inch of my body, every crease and fold and plane of my neck, arms, face, and chest. When he finished with the parts above my waist, I was sobbing uncontrollably, the raging fire in my belly so hot I thought I might die.
Then his fingers dipped low, lower, reaching for the part of me that was so swollen and hot, the source of the fire, the place where I needed his touch more than I needed my next breath.
“Vilkurn!” I moaned, my breath shuddering. He stopped moving, allowing me to feel only his weight on my thighs, his fingers still on my folds, his mouth hovering… oh, Goddess. Was he going to taste me? I knew some men did that. I had never thought I would be holding my breath, praying fervently that a man would do that to me.
Now, or I would weep.
I let out a small cry. His evil chuckle sent a soft huff of air past the wetness there.
“Patience, kitten.” His breath, warm on my skin at the crease of my thighs, tormented me. Faint heat spread from elsewhere as well, as if someone had lit more candles to see me better.
The thought of being tied and tortured for Vilkurn’s pleasure, for Axe’s viewing, ignited something deep within me. A storm was coming.
Near the door, something moved, a hand on flesh. I knew that sound; I’d heard it a hundred times.
Axe was touching himself. Stroking that impossibly long cock, watching as Vilkurn touched me, and taking his own pleasure as he did.
“Touching you is torture.” Vilkurn’s growl vibrated through the small bud nestled in between my lower lips. “But I think I might be the one to break under it.” He growled louder, and Axe echoed the sound. “I must taste you.”
“Please,” I begged, my core clenching at the thought. “I need it, need you.”
Something—his finger? His tongue? Oh, Goddess, itwashis tongue—slid through my folds, harvesting the shameful wetness that coated my thighs. It flicked between my lower lips, from the tight rosebud of my ass to the top of my mound, once, twice, then circling the bud again, and again… until the fire that ignited inside me became a conflagration.
I screamed as the universe exploded into bliss, feeling the wetness gushing from me, and Vilkurn’s hard mouth drinking me, consuming me, demanding my pleasure.
