33
“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” Malik shouted at Valine from within his suite.
“I mean honestly, Valine, were you really going to kill the heir to Raziche’s Den in the middle of a fucking tea party?”
Valine pinned her eyes on the soundproofed azure wall, studying a turquoise fresco which depicted the mind mages when they combined into one. The three sisters, in order to save one, had to join as one being, sacrificing all individuality. Valine wondered how it felt to love or be loved that much.
“You know, I am speaking to you,” Malik bit out, anger lacing every word.
She pulled her eyes from the artwork. “It rather felt like you were shouting at me.”
“Oh, don’t be pedantic, it’s beyond you.”
“Is it? Because according to you I’m an imbecile.”
“Are you serious right now? You’re bitter because I’m pissed you tried to kill gambling royalty? What did you think was going to happen, huh? The fucking Tri-Moon Festival is the day after tomorrow, do you think the princess will want to celebrate if one of her closest friends suddenly died? You kill Balchon and all our plans go to shit.”
“He needs to die if we’re to get Hanish and Hafsa out!” Valine fired back.
“I don’t give a flying fuck how many people need to die to keep them working for us, but they cannot die until after the saints-damned festival, Valine!”
“Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t given a fucking itinerary of the murder list, did you want me to pencil in Balchon before or after the king?” She pretended to search. “Give me a second, I’ll write it all down.”
“Fuck off with that. You know damn well I’m right and you don’t want to admit it because you’re ashamed of yourself.”
“I’m ashamed of nothing,” Valine hissed, fingers turning to claws. “You knew I was going to kill him—I told you this!”
“I didn’t think you were going to do it in front of everyone! I thought you’d be more discreet, maybe an overdose, alone in his bed, an unfortunate accident! Maybe he decided to get drunk and fall in the sea. You could have arranged a fucking kraken attack and I wouldn’t have minded! But at a princess’s tea party? Are you serious?” He paced angrily. “We need this festival to happen!”
“You said you trusted my instincts on this!” Valine yelled, wanting to hit something. “Don’t turn this around because you don’t like my methods, I was given explicit permission to do things my way. If you don’t like it, then you can find some other assassin for your plan of world domination.”
“You don’t even understand!”
“Enlighten me then!”
Suddenly, like a tidal wave, Malik was in her face, shoving her against the wall. “I am trying to protect you!” Heat flared in his eyes, the scent of cinnamon washing over her. “And you seem to think this is all a saints-damned joke!”
It was then that Valine realized what she didn’t see before. Malik was angry, yes, but beneath that veneer of hostility was fear. The king was afraid, and she realized with a start that it was fear for her. Some of Valine’s fire banked beneath that look.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pushing down that hot-temper gifted from her father.
Malik was taken aback, surprise flaring in his eyes before something new lit them. “Sorry isn’t enough.”
Before Valine could process his words, Malik had both of Valine’s wrists captured in his hand, pinning them above her against the wall. The position had her stretched, her midriff bare, her breasts heaving with angry breaths. Malik pressed himself closer, a knee between her legs, finding the slit in her skirt and staying there. She could feel his length hardening against her hip, his own chest against hers fluttering with aroused and furious breaths. Instinctively, Valine’s leg hitched on Malik’s hip, wrapping around the back of his knee, pulling him close, the grinding eliciting a moan from her as zings of pleasure rushed from between her legs. Malik’s other hand found the small of her back and pulled her even tighter to him, fingertips digging in, and she hoped they left more bruises.
Trailing his lips across her jaw, he allowed the slightest of pressure, the barest of kisses before he nipped the sharp edge of her chin. “You have your rules, but I told you to break them. You want me, why hold back?”
“Because,” she breathed, writhing against him, eager for that friction. “If I don’t have my lines, I am lost.”
“Then perhaps you need to be found.”
A whimper escaped her, and she couldn’t help it. Her lips sought his. But when she tried, she met only air. Malik’s cheek rubbed against her as he whispered in her ear, his short start of a beard scratching her face.
“I won’t kiss you,” he whispered seductively. “That would be too much like a reward. I want to torture you, to have you crying out for the pleasure I’m withholding.”
“You want to punish me?” she gasped, incredibly turned on and shocked.
“I do,” he breathed, grinding his thigh against her apex. She was sure he was feeling wet heat swell within her. “I want to get you close to your peak, and when you’re about to come…I won’t let you.”
She moaned in response.
He splayed his hand on the small of her back, fingers on her backside as he pushed harder, the friction exquisite. Valine tossed back her head and moaned, and when she bared her throat, Malik latched onto it, his mouth hot on her skin. His teeth grazed and sank, suckling and leaving trails of lust along her collarbone. She knew he was leaving love bites and she didn’t care. Everyone already thought they were fucking, what was stopping them? Her rules? She was already working for a royal, she may as well sleep with him too while she was at it.
Valine rolled her hips against his hard thigh, the motion rubbing that little bundle of nerves that he so neglected. She wanted him, she wanted him so badly she burned with it. She’d fantasized about him daily, in quiet moments and in busy ones, when he was close and when he was away. He consumed her, and she wanted to consume him. She wanted to feel him inside her, driving into her, fucking her into oblivion.
His scent was all over her, that daemons-damned black orchid and tobacco mixture. It was heady and intoxicating, and it was her complete undoing.
As if he were gracing her with a gift, the hand that was at the small of her back slid down to her knee, sliding along her thigh. His fingers crept under the slit in her gown—and she thanked whoever designed that specific feature—and found the lace edge of her underwear. She thrashed against him, eager for his touch, but his other hand still had her wrists pinned. He was toying with her, tracing the edge, a fingertip slipping beneath and gone again. She groaned, his mouth busy on her chest, his tongue gliding along the top of her bodice, dipping between the swell of her breasts. Still, she was grinding against his leg, his erection still prominent against her thigh. Her breaths were coming as pants, little sounds of moans and whimpers escaping her.
Malik groaned against her skin, his hips surging. “Were these the sounds you made when you finger-fucked yourself?” Malik paused as she gasped. “Tell me, and maybe I’ll let you come.”
“Yes,” she gasped wildly.
“Did you think of me as you played with this sweet little pussy?” Malik’s voice was low and husky, and Valine could feel an orgasm creeping up on her, the temptation of this man alone was enough to drive her over the edge.
She rode against his leg and let his fingertip slip beneath her panties, the lightest brush against her clit. She cried out in pleasure, feeling her climax drawing closer.
“Did you, Little Liar?”
“I did.”
“Do you think you deserve to come?”
“Yes,” she practically begged. She was not above it, not when she was so close.
“No, I don’t think so.”
And Malik pulled away.
Valine cried out from the loss and the frustration that filled her. He still kept her wrists in his hands. Her knees wobbled and she was aching for release. She knew she was a mess, her hair was askew, her eyes lust-addled.
“I told you this was no prize, this was a penalty.”
Valine licked her lips. “Please, Malik. Make me come for you.” Her breath was raspy, full of desire.
Something flared in Malik’s eyes and he pressed close once more. “Beg again,” he commanded.
“Please, touch me. Let me come.”
Malik released her wrists and grabbed her by the hips, opening to him as he shoved her against the wall, rougher. His hard cock through his pants perfectly positioned against her clit—saints she was close.
“I want to watch you shatter into pieces on me. I want to know I’m the one doing it to you.”
“Then take me,” she pushed.
“Not today. Today is not a day for rewards. This is a gift.”
And then he was rolling his hips against hers, the hard line of his cock rubbing her sensitive clit. She could feel her wetness dripping down her thighs, soaking her panties, and he kept the delicious friction going. Valine thrust her hands in his hair, feeling the silky soft strands against her hands as she tipped her head back. The king’s hands were rough on her ass, pushing and grinding. She felt the orgasm building within her, her nerves coming alive as it grew and grew, soaring within her. Her moans were getting louder and she sank her teeth against his shoulder to keep from screaming.
“Come for me, Valine.”
The orgasm shattered through her, and she would have screamed if not for her teeth buried into Malik’s shoulder. Malik helped her ride through the waves of her climax, her hips surging and he met her for each one.
Slowly, she came down from the high, and Malik let her slide down his front. She had to steady herself against the wall to keep from falling over. Her knees were weak, her body deliciously heavy.
“Let this serve as a warning to what my punishments entail.” Malik’s voice was steady, but she knew he was anything but. His erection strained painfully against his pants, a wet spot over the hard ridge of it and Valine knew it was from her. “Do you think this will happen again?”
It was a threat, and a promise, and an invitation, and a request.
“I think it will.”
“I think it should.”
With that, Valine left Malik’s suite, the echoes of her orgasm between them.