The dark king, p.20
The Dark King, page 20
Pretending that I’m simply returning the flogger to the nearby table of toys and tools, I slip my phone from my back pocket and shoot a text to Connor, asking him to check for the letter in her wallet. Then I turn back to her, needing to get the rest of this interrogation over with and learn the truth of who and what she is, once and for all.
By now, the clamps and vibrator are making her visibly shake as she struggles to keep her orgasm at bay.
“P-Please, my king, may I come?”
“No.”
A whimper escapes, but she bears down like a good girl and obeys me.
“I’m sorry for hurting you.”
I freeze, almost not sure I heard her right or that maybe my brain is projecting so hard that I’m imagining things. But the unshed apologies in her hazel eyes arrest the air in my lungs. “Are you finally admitting fault? To knowingly playing a part in this grand scheme against me?”
She shakes her head. “No, never. It’s not for anything intentional, but I can feel your pain. It’s raw, like a fresh wound, and it’s aimed at me. So if I’ve done something to hurt you—however unintentional it may be—I’m sorry.”
Fuck me.
Bryn’s fae qualities have leveled up again. She’s reading me without the benefit of skin-to-skin contact. Making these godsforsaken gloves unnecessary.
Glad of that fact for more than one reason, I strip them off my hands and toss them on the table. It’s time I move on to the second half of my questioning and take things to the next level, anyway. It won’t matter if she can read me or not, because I plan on making her so mindless with orgasms, she won’t be able to focus on anything but what I allow her to.
I switch the wand to high, delivering a much more intense vibration but not nearly as intense as it could be with it still barely touching her. And yet she moans and squirms, trying to simultaneously escape and gain more pressure for relief. It’s a delicious dichotomy of sensations that scrambles one’s thoughts and magnifies physical awareness beyond imagination until it’s experienced firsthand.
I actually resent my decision to question her this way because I can’t fully immerse myself in the moment and watch her reach these new heights I’m taking her to. Yet another reason to find out who’s behind all this and make them suffer. And so I shall.
“I have a secret, Beauty. The elder Barwyn is a seer, and he had some very interesting things to say about you. The first being that you are not human as you claim to be, at least not only human. He says you’re definitely other, though what kind exactly he was unable to determine. So why don’t you end the suspense and tell me.”
Her brows pinch together and she shakes her head hard, causing her cascade of blond hair to swing behind her. “I’m not, I swear. I’m just a regular Midwestern girl. There’s nothing special about me.”
No longer concerned about keeping my distance, I step in until her clamped nipples are grazing my chest. Reaching around her side, I grab a fistful of her hair and yank down, forcing her to look up and meet my steely gaze. “Now that, my pretty little slut, is an outright lie. Whether you’re other or human, I don’t ever want to hear you refer to yourself as nothing special. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.”
“Do you want to come, slut?”
“God, yes, I do.”
“Beg your king.”
“Please, my king,” she says so sweetly with her expressive hazel eyes. “Please may I come?”
“No, you do not have permission.”
Her whimper turns into more of a keening cry, but I see her truth. Being denied only turns her on even more.
I adjust the wand to sit higher on her inner thigh so that it’s pressed more firmly against her but still nowhere near her clit. It’s now directly at her entrance with her slick labia trapped between the buzzing head and her drenched hole.
Finally, I pull the necklace out of my pocket and let it dangle in front of her face. “Why did you wear this the night we met?”
“I liked th-that one the best of all the ones I was offered.”
“What do you mean? Be more specific, Beauty, or this will take all night, and I don’t think you want to know what it’s like to be edged that long.”
Her eyes flare wide, then she explains on halted breaths. “Reservation mix-up…free VIP suite with…necklace.” The last word is more of a groan as she fights harder to hold her orgasm back.
Eventually, she gets out all the pertinent details. How an assistant manager upgraded her to the VIP suite and offered her all the perks that went with it, including letting her choose one of five black obsidian necklaces to wear on loan.
Everything she’s saying makes it sound like she’s an innocent party in all this. Then again, maybe it’s her cover story. If she’s other as Barwyn claims and she knows how to mask her energy or emotions, I wouldn’t be able to tell if she was lying or not. But agreeing to a plan that hinges on her being taken out for someone else to be able to usurp my throne doesn’t seem like a very sensible thing to do. Maybe whoever it was told her she’d just have to go back home.
Fuck, none of this makes any goddamned sense.
Switching tactics, I remove the clamp on her clit, allowing the blood to once again flow to the swollen nub. Her back arches as she cries out, then tries to breathe through the need to come. She’s about to wish she was still being denied.
Unstrapping the wand, I keep it on the high setting and hold it at the ready.
“From now on, you no longer need permission to come. You’re to do it every time an orgasm hits.”
She sags in relief. “Thank you, my king.”
I give her a devilish grin, flashing my fangs. “Don’t thank me yet.”
Then I press the head of the wand hard against her overly sensitive clit and watch with satisfaction as she arches away from the cross and screams through her first of many explosions.
After about a minute of riding out the aftershocks, she starts to come back to herself, but I don’t remove the wand. It’s staying right where it’s at, and every time she twists her hips to try and escape it, I follow her movements so that she can’t.
Already I can see the next climax building. Forced orgasms are intense and each is more intense than the one before it.
“Let’s assume for the moment that you’re telling the truth, and you’re completely innocent. This little bauble you wore was spelled to coerce me.”
Bryn comes again, helpless to stop it. Beads of sweat pop out on her skin and dampen the tiny wisps of hair around her face.
So damned stunning. As soon as she’s calm enough to hear me speak, I continue.
“Like a fucking love charm, your necklace turned me into a romantic fool who wanted nothing more than to sweep you off your feet and make you mine. And it fucking worked. Do you understand what that means?”
Again, she comes. Again, I watch, my dick so hard in my pants, I swear I’m going to come just from bearing witness to her ecstasy. And again, I continue.
“From the moment I laid eyes on you, everything I’ve felt has all been manufactured. Nothing more than a pretty fucking lie.”
Bryn shakes her head violently. “No, that’s not true,” she says between panting breaths. “We have a connection.”
“Wrong,” I growl. “We have a bond that’s feeding off the feelings we had at the time we were mated. False feelings. None of this is real; it never has been.”
“No, I don’t belie— Ah fuuuuuuuck!”
“Believe it or don’t. It doesn’t change that it’s the truth.” I’m not sure if she’s even hearing me right now as her latest orgasm burns through her. Her entire body is trembling and her pleas for me to give her a reprieve are more incoherent babbles than actual words. But I understand them because I’m as fluent in this as anything else.
“Please don’t make me come again, I can’t do it, it’s too much, pleeeeease…”
“I don’t fucking think so.” Purposely creating confusion, I turn the wand off and toss it on the table along with the necklace I’d like to smash into pieces for the lies it represents but also create a religion around it for being what ultimately bonded her to me.
Then I return to her and remove one of the nipple clamps as I drive three fingers into her greedy cunt. She comes instantly, screaming to the heavens as her inner walls, already so tight from multiple orgasms, squeeze my fingers like a fucking vise.
“That’s it,” I croon in a wicked tone. “You’re going to come for me until there’s not a drop of moisture left in your body. Again.”
I begin fucking her with my fingers, curling them to hit her G-spot and moving my hand in fast back-and-forth motions that make her so wet, it drips into my palm and makes the most delicious squelching sounds.
As her next orgasm builds and twists inside her, tears overflow and cause her mascara to run. I use the fingers of my free hand and smear the black drops into messy streaks down her face, then I grip the front of her throat and apply pressure on either side. Lips and nipples both swollen and red, cheeks painted in black tears…
It’s the most beautiful she’s ever looked.
It’s in this purest of moments that I know without a doubt it won’t matter if I discover Bryn did play a part in all of this, and it doesn’t matter if what I feel comes from a spell. I don’t care because I’m incapable of letting her go. I’m incapable of ever living without her.
More tears track down her cheeks and I lick them away, reveling in their salty essence, then I flay myself open and speak my truth against the shell of her ear. “Even if you are the cause of my ultimate demise, I will never release you. The night we bonded, you became mine, and that is what you shall remain. Now and always.”
Feeling her climax overtake her, I release her throat and then quickly remove the other nipple clamp, giving her the rush of fresh oxygen and circulation that floods her system like getting a mainline of pure endorphins. Her body seizes up and shakes. Her mouth drops open, but no sound comes out, the silent scream signaling her ultimate pleasure and offering her throat to me like a gift.
And so I accept.
I sink my fangs into the side of her neck, causing aftershocks so powerful that it makes my gums tingle with pleasure. I only take a single sip, the euphoric experience already tainted with my guilt for the invasion…and the violation of trust I’m about to commit.
I pull back and stroke the hair out of her face, telling her what a good girl she is as she continues to float in subspace. With my other hand, I retrieve a tiny vial from my pocket and hold it against her skin just beneath where one of my fangs punctured to capture the small amount of blood that escapes before she heals.
Then I slip it back into my pocket and push everything aside to focus on caring for Bryn.
Grabbing the blanket that I laid out earlier, I carefully support her while I undo her cuffs. Then I wrap her up and carry her over to a chair where I sit with her cuddled in my lap. I offer her a bottle of water and insist she drinks at least half of it before letting her just snuggle against me as I rub her arms and back through the soft blanket as she comes down from subspace.
“Caiden,” she says sleepily against my chest.
Resting my cheek atop her head, I speak in a low voice. “What is it, Beauty?”
“I wish you believed me.”
“I do believe you, sweetheart.”
I place a gentle kiss on her forehead and realize it’s the truth, regardless of how naive it makes me.
“I’m glad.” She sighs contentedly and snuggles in closer. “And if you ever use a scene to manipulate me again, I’ll put my castration knowledge to good use.”
Pride in hearing her stand up for herself helps to neutralize the acidic burn of my guilt. “Noted and justified.”
Her satisfaction with my answer flows to me through our bond, and she finally succumbs to sleep. Soon after, my phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I take it out to find a text from Connor. It’s a picture of the letter from Bryn’s wallet, proving I’m not naive after all.
My gaze drifts to where I left that damnable necklace, and my heart sinks.
Because whether or not Bryn is innocent doesn’t change that what we feel for each other is all still a lie.
And I think that might hurt worse than if she’d intentionally betrayed me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Bryn
“Fiona!”
As I march through the halls of Midnight Manor on a Saturday evening, I can’t get over just how eerily quiet it is.
I spent all day working in my temporary makeshift office and only realized how late it was when my stomach protested loud enough to echo in the room.
Since I take my food seriously, it wasn’t until I was almost finished with the dinner plate the cook left for me in the warmer that I noticed how quiet the house is. And so began my epic quest of trekking through the twelve-thousand-square-foot maze to find my fae sidekick and ask her what the hell is going on.
“Fiona? Where are you?” Lowering my voice, I mutter, “Where is anyone?”
I pop my head into the home gym and come up empty, releasing a small growl of frustration.
Then I remember I have a cell phone. Caiden gave mine back to me after the interrogation session a few nights ago. He finally trusts me.
I should be happy about that, and I am, mostly. Except that ironically, we had a better relationship before he trusted me. He’s back to working all the time and making excuses for why he can’t see me. All because he thinks that whatever we feel for each other is only because of that damn necklace.
Personally, I think it’s bullshit.
I don’t know anything about spells, but I like Tiernan’s theory about the bond, so I’ve chosen to apply it to spells, too. They can’t make something out of nothing. They can only strengthen what was already there.
Even though Caiden and I had only met that night, I believe there was a powerful instant attraction for the spell to work from. The proof is what happened in the lobby between us, which was hours before I ever had the necklace.
I’m trying to be patient—to let him work through his issues on his own—but it’s not an easy thing for me to do.
Hence why I’ve been burying myself in work.
At least now we know we have one thing in common.
Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I bring up Caiden’s number and shoot off a quick text as I continue making my way through the lower level.
Hey, handsome, where u at?
When I don’t see the three wavy dots right away, I force myself to lock the screen and keep going. I will not stare at my phone waiting for a response like a lovesick puppy.
After searching the game room and lower bar area, I climb the stairs back up to the main floor. “Oh, I didn’t check the theater room. Maybe she’s Netflix-and-actually-chilling.”
Crossing through the massive great room, my phone vibrates in my hand. I stop and pull up his response.
At a Night Court thing. Be back late. Don’t wait up.
I furrow my brow and chew on my lip. Admittedly, his vague statement stings a little. I thought we’d gotten past him being secretive about fae business with me, but apparently not.
“Okay, don’t jump to conclusions, Bryn. It’s probably super-secret, high-level king stuff. Just because you’re married to the guy doesn’t mean you’re entitled to be a part of everything.”
K but u might find me in ur bed when u get home ;)
A thumbs-up bubble appears on my text. He fucking thumbs-upped me?
I continue to stare at my screen for several seconds before I realize I’m waiting for him to add an actual response. “Nope,” I say to myself, kicking back into motion. “Not doing that. I can’t expect him to be a chatty Cathy if he’s in a meeting. It’s fine, everything’s fine. Fionaaaa!”
If I don’t find her in the next five minutes, I’ll be forced to seek out whatever Night Watch guys are on the property, but other than the Woulfe brothers, who will be wherever Caiden is, they all treat me similar to Finn—like an inconvenient ticking time bomb—so they’re a last resort.
I reach out for the door of the theater room, but it’s yanked open before I get there. Fiona jumps into the hall and slams the door shut behind her, greeting me with a too-wide smile.
“Hey, girl! I was just finishing up a movie. Super intense, major plot twist, you know how it is.”
I blink a few times, not sure where to begin. The fact that she looks guilty as sin about something or that she was supposedly watching a movie while wearing a black satin sheath gown with a slit clear up to her hip.
I open my mouth to comment, but the door to the theater opens again. Only this time, it’s Tiernan stepping into the hall, distractedly tucking his tux shirt into his waistband.
“Fuck, Fi, you almost took me out trying to get out—Oh, hey, Brynnie-Bear, how’s it going?”
My eyes bounce back and forth between Fiona and Tier several times, the conspiratorial grin on my face getting bigger and bigger. “Super intense, major plot twist, huh? I’ll say.” A bubble of laughter escapes me, making her huff dramatically.
“This isn’t what it looks like.”
As Tier finishes putting himself to rights, he helpfully adds, “Unless, of course, it looks like I was banging Fiona in the theater. Then it’s exactly what it looks like.”
She spins to glare at him with fists planted on slim hips, her long red hair whipping around to fall in front of a bare shoulder. Tier gives her the classic what’d I say? look, and I laugh even harder. “Oh my God, this is fantastic. I knew something was going on between you two. Fiona, you little tart, how could you not tell me?”
At this, Tiernan raises his brows at her. “You’re not bragging about me to your friends? Honestly, Fi, that hurts my feelings.”
