“Good girl. I like her spirit.”

“But I’m not deterred.”

“Quitters never win,” she said.

“I decide that I can’t simply overwhelm her with power and might. I must make her love me. So begins my attempt to win her heart and obedience through a strict regimen of hand-feeding, spankings followed by forced orgasms, and tender poetry.”

“Poetry?”

“Yes, I tie her to the royal bed and recite poems to her until her heart—and thighs—melt.”

“This is an actual sexual fantasy you get off to?” Lia asked.

“Often.” August nodded. “Though there are variations. Sometimes it’s the king’s son instead of his daughter. And instead of poetry, it’s near-constant oral sex.”

“I’m speechless.”

“Your turn,” he said, his voice tender and coaxing. “I’m dying to hear what you dream about in that deep dark little corner of your mind, the one with all the locks on the door and Cerberus guarding it with all three of his vicious heads...”

He massaged her breasts as he spoke, and she did find herself strangely melting into his hands.

“Close your eyes, Lia,” he said as he then pushed his hands gently into her hair and tugged her head back to bare her throat to another hundred soft kisses.

She closed her eyes and sighed at the bliss of the moment—his beautiful cock embedded in her body, his fingers wound into her hair, his warm lips licking and sucking her neck and his hot breath on her skin... And his words, his perfect words.

“Tell me your secrets, Lia...tell me everything you want. I won’t laugh. I won’t judge. Whatever you desire, I can give it to you, but you have to tell me what it is...”

“You won’t laugh?”

“I really won’t laugh.”

“Well, to be honest... I wouldn’t mind playing in your fantasy.”

“You’d make a wonderful wicked king.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “The bloody concubine, August.”

He pulled back, his eyes wide. “You disgust me.”

Lia pushed him off her. That act of rebellion was quickly quashed. August grabbed her around the waist, wrenched her slip off her and threw it across the room. Then he dragged her on top of him, and it took no convincing at all to get her to straddle him.

“So she wants to be a concubine,” August said. He took her by the hips and eased her down onto him again.

“No, I don’t want to be a bloody concubine,” she said. “It’s a fancy word for being a victim of kidnapping and rape.”

“But you fantasize about being kidnapped and raped.”

“In a nice way.” She let her head fall back and smiled dreamily up at the ceiling. “A sexy way. A not-at-all-real-in-any-way way. That’s what I meant.”

He ran his hands up her arms and drew her down to his chest.

“Who do you imagine being your keeper? Your captor?”

“Achilles,” she said.

“Ah, does that make you Briseis?” he asked.

“I think I’d make a very good captive queen.”