Page 53 of American King (New Camelot Trilogy 3)
In my haste to fuck the queen, I’d forgotten about the king prowling around the room—and also that king’s bottle of lube resting next to where my hips move against his wife’s. It looks so innocuous there, smallish and white, and I remember how some of the most depraved and debauched nights of my life have begun with similar innocent-looking bottles. And then of course, there were the even more depraved nights—vicious and violating—when we made do without the real stuff. Olive oil or conditioner or aloe vera—or just spit and a prayer. Some of the best nights of my life.
I look up, expecting to see Ash ready to crawl on the bed behind me, but instead I find him kneeling on the floor beside us, his arms on the bed and his head pillowed on his arms. He’s watching me and Greer, and his face.
His face.
I’ve never wondered before what it would look like for someone to have their whole world in their eyes, never even thought to wonder. But Ash right now, kneeling and gazing at Greer and me—
His whole world is in his eyes.
And it’s incredible to see.
Holy, almost. Sacred.
That kind of awe and vulnerability and bloody, heart-beating love—it’s like being offered something on an altar, and realizing the person offering it thinks you’re a god. Ash is staring at us like he could forgo food and water and air as long as he had us, and suddenly my chest is cracking wide open and my heart is falling out and there was never any other way for me to end up than caught between them. With her arching underneath me and Ash beside me, I almost feel like I am a god, like I could conquer the entire world, and I dare anyone not to fall in love with her, not to kneel to him, I dare anyone to resist the undertow of Maxen Colchester and Greer Galloway.
Anyone.
Greer reaches over for Ash, and he takes her hand and rubs her fingers against his stubbled jaw as he watches us move in sweaty, lazy intimacy. “Join us,” she says to him.
“In a minute,” he answers. “I want to look at you both.”
“Looking can’t be as much fun as fucking,” Greer points out, with a little pout that would make any other man weep with lust.
“You underestimate what I’m looking at,” Ash says, unmoved, still rubbing her fingers against his face.
I know better than anyone the crude appetites he keeps behind all that honor and Catholic morality, and I know how to get him on the bed with us. I purposefully move Greer’s leg to the side and angle her hips so that he can see the stretch of her cunt around my erection, the indolent thresh of my hips against hers. The wet gleam of her on my cock as I pull out and slowly plunge back in.
Ash goes completely still, his hand frozen with Greer’s fingers against his jaw, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them. And with the low light of the room outlining the rigid muscles of his shoulders and arms, the tense set of his jaw, and the hunger and thirst expressed by that brutal mouth—I have a moment when I wonder if it was actually wise to provoke him. To stir the beast from his watchful pose. My stomach tightens in both fear and excitement.
With a growl, Ash stands up and puts a knee on the bed. Everything is brutal and beautiful about him right now, not just his mouth, it’s his vicious body and merciless cock and the way he prowls and crawls towards us, like no predator I’ve even dreamed of.
And then one sadistic hand is in my hair and his male organ is filling my mouth, invading it, no care or time for me to move my tongue and teeth to accommodate him. Just a rough shove in until he hits the back of my throat, and I know he must have felt the unprepared score of my teeth, the plush resistance of my tongue and the unwelcoming squeeze of my closed throat, but it only seems to inflame him further, a low groan of pleasure coming from somewhere deep in his chest as he pulls out and shoves back in again, ruthless and seeking and finally, finally it’s him, the dark master from my best and most delicious nightmares.
“Take it,” he says. “Open your goddamn throat and take it.”
I try, I do, but he’s too big, moving too fast, using me too hard, and there’s the distracting glance of Greer’s fingertips tracing my lips where they suck her husband’s cock, and it’s all too much for me to give, which seems to be fine by Ash because he forces his way down my throat with a harsh noise anyway. I choke around him and he tightens his hand in my hair.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, pushing in even deeper, until my nose is pressed against the close-trimmed hair stretching down from his navel. “That’s it. All the way. All the way.”
And then he is all the way in and I’m trying to suck air through my nose as water streams from my eyes and the cruel hand leaves my hair to cradle my face.
“You’re so fucking handsome like this,” he says to me. He pulls out, leaving me sputtering for air and then he bends down and seals his mouth over mine. Greer whimpers underneath us, her hands going to trace our chests and arms, her eyes big and silver and glued to the sight of us kissing.
Ash pulls back, his mouth wet, his cock wet, and his expression satisfied. “I’ve been looking forward to that all night.”
I’m too busy gasping for air to say me too, but he reads it in my face anyway and gives me a darkly knowing smirk. And then he’s crawling behind me, hair-rough legs moving against my own, his presence like a sun on my back, hot and life giving.
“Keep fucking,” he orders, giving my ass a smack, and so I look back down to Greer and start moving again.
She gives me a smile tha
t I can’t describe, except to say that it conveys that hammered ring of love between the three of us and also the common bond that she and I share—which is the communion of being loved by a man like Ash. In her smile I see the understanding and amused sympathy and lust and jealousy that I feel when I watch her and Ash together, and I’m reminded forcefully of why I love her so much. We’re beaten from the same metal, she and I, cut from the same fucked-up cloth, and the ways that we love each other will always, always be tangled up in the ways we love Ash and the ways he loves us back.
Love you, she mouths as I trace the shape of her smile with a finger.
Love you too, I mouth back, angling my hips to catch her clit on the next thrust forward. Love you forever.
Her eyes glow up at me with renewed heat as I continue working against her most precious spots, as I dip my head to suck at the furled nipples grazing against my chest.
