Chapter 27 Sabine #2
He opens his lips for me, and I press my incisors against his bottom lip—not hard enough to break the skin, just enough to make him groan.
“Rian,” Basten barks, sharp and commanding. “Get the fuck on your feet.”
Rian adjusts the rock-hard cock straining at his pants, trying—and failing—to hide how worked up he is. There’s a hunger there I’ve never seen in him before. As if being told what to do—finally—is doing something to him.
As if the command itself lights him up.
Now that the throne is unoccupied, Basten guides me back into it, the hard oak cupping my ass, but then turns me so I’m draped across the armrests. The carved feathers press into my skin with a hint of pain that only stokes my need.
Basten jerks his head at Rian and says simply, “Like that time at the Velvet Vixen.”
The reference means nothing to me but clearly does to Rian.
Rian kneels by my feet, eyes blown wide, and tugs off my remaining shoe. He caresses my foot like he’s polishing gold, then kisses along the upper portion of my arch.
I gasp, toes curling.
Basten sinks to his knees on the other side of the throne. He takes my arm, nuzzles his face in my palm, and then drags his tongue down the length of my arm to my shoulder, sliding my dress strap down to free my breast, and capturing my bare nipple gently between his teeth.
A hiss wracks out of me as I writhe lengthwise on the throne, tormented by pleasure. Together, each from either end, Basten and Rian feast on me like a holiday buffet. Basten’s mouth does wicked things to my breasts, until I’m arching my back and crying out for mercy.
At the other end, Rian wraps his hands around my hips, holding me steady as he kisses the inside of my calf.
The fey shivers in my veins, waking up from its slumber. Silver light spills out of my fey lines, casting an otherworldly glow over both men’s faces as they devour my body.
Flashes of memory return to me. Acolytes bent over my body, worshipping me with their mouths. I’ve done this before…thousands of times before.
But it’s never been like this.
I dig one hand in Basten’s hair, winding my fingers across his scalp to hold on securely, and thrust the other hand in Rian’s hair, feeling the movements of his talented mouth moving back and forth over my thigh, nipping and biting so wickedly.
I think I might burst from pleasure, pop like a corked champagne bottle.
“I…” I start, my voice turning into a growl. “I want more.”
Basten comes up for air, lips swollen and eyes aflame. He takes a moment to look me over, draped across the throne from head to toes, and the look in his eyes says everything I need to know.
A chasm between us?
No—not anymore. Like this, we know exactly who each other is.
He fists his hand in Rian’s collar, dragging Rian to his feet. Rian pants, his eyes glassy and unfocused from the thrill of it all.
“More, little violet?” Basten repeats. The half-grin is gone from his face as he rests his hand on his belt. He’s all business now, his cock straining at his pants, the pinprick focus of a hunter in his eyes, ready to claim his prize.
I sit up on the throne, suddenly breathless. “Please.” I’m not sure I trust my own voice not to break with need.
“Goddesses don’t beg,” he says, approaching slowly and taking my chin in his big palm. “I swore to serve you.”
The fey beneath my skin throbs, surging hotter and faster. I whimper slightly, licking my lips again, eyes pinned to his jugular.
A fear suddenly seizes me. “Basten, if we take this too far—”
He presses his thumb to my lips, sealing in my protests.
Slowly, he shakes his head. “Let me take care of you, goddess. You won’t hurt me. Not with Rian taking on half your need. Now be a good girl and sit in Rian’s lap.”
A flush of warmth spreads through my core, and I have to squeeze my thighs together to keep from shaking. Rian is more than happy to trade places with me on the throne, spreading his knees, bucking his hips in anticipation.
I start to sit on his lap, but Basten grabs me. “No—like this.”
He spins me around to straddle Rian’s hips.
I’m facing Rian, who leans back, hands on the armrests, not touching me in a way that’s somehow even more intimate than when he had his hands all over me.
From behind, Basten nuzzles his lips over my ear, biting down gently on the earlobe, and at the same time, fists Rian’s hair to crane his neck back.
He commands to me, “Drink from him.”
My breath rushes in and out. I stare, wide-eyed, at Rian’s exposed neck. The vein throbbing there, in time with my own demanding pulse.
My mouth pools with saliva, appetite roaring to life almost uncontrollably.
Drink drink drink.
“Rian?” I ask hoarsely.
He shifts his hips, rocking his erection against my hips. “Don’t ask permission. Fucking drink.”
A yawning need clenches me, and suddenly, my mouth is all over his neck. I break the skin, letting his warm blood flood my mouth. Spicy, metallic, a trace of alcohol that goes straight to my head.
A shiver of pleasure thrums through me as I lap at his blood.
“That’s it,” Basten says, as he slowly winds my hair into a rope, then wraps it around his fist. He stands behind me, bunching my skirt up around my hips. “Take what you need.”
Almost immediately, I’m drunk and dazed. From the alcohol in Rian’s blood. From the prayers he whispered against my skin. From the pleasure aching down to my bones.
“I want you, Basten,” I moan, barely knowing which way is up.
“As my goddess wishes.” He pushes my skirt over my bare ass, grabbing a handful of flesh and kneading it as he frees his massive cock.
I feel him line himself up with my entrance. He rubs the tip of his cock over my slick center, teasing me. Throbbing and tingling sensations ripple up and down my core until I’m pushing back, demanding him.
“That’s a good goddess.”
He slides into me slowly, torturously. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Filling me inch by delicious inch.
A moan tears out of me as I tip my head back, arching my spine. I roll my chest against Rian, bare breasts rubbing against his silk shirt.
Rian takes one breast in his hand, stroking and squeezing until I’m sure I’ll break.
Basten grabs my hips to hold me in place, sinking fully into me. I gasp from the fullness, barely able to catch my breath. He reaches around and strokes my clit with his thumb, flicking lazy circles that have me grinding my hips back against him.
“Right there,” I cry. “Right there—that’s what I need!”
Rian shudders at the sound, forehead pressed to my shoulder. Basten’s grip tightens. The three of us move in the same frantic pull—want, power, submission all tangled together.
The pressure crests.
Basten speeds up, working my clit in time to his thrusts, and I feel energy build until it’s impossible to build any more. His cock throbs inside me, so close to exploding. He thrusts once more, hitting me achingly deep, and I come undone.
Silver stars burst across my vision. I shudder, muscles twitching uncontrollably. All thoughts vanish. I quiver, I spiral, I burst.
The room explodes in light, and it’s only dimly that I realize the light is coming from me.
I’m glowing bright as the moon. Lighting up every shadowed corner.
Basten’s cock throbs a final time, shooting hot cum inside me. An exhale rips out of me as I collapse against Rian’s chest, burying my face in his shoulder, hands twisted tight enough in his shirt that my fingernails shred the fabric.
Together—
The three of us break.
I’m shaking. Spent, and yet somehow full.
With a groan, Basten pulls out of me. I slide off Rian’s lap and sink backward onto the floor, needing the steadying feeling of stone beneath me. I lay flat, gazing up at the ceiling. My muscles are jelly. My thoughts…poof. Gone.
Rian, looking dazed, crawls onto the floor beside me, laying back to stretch himself out on the floor.
Basten sinks to his knees, too, bracing himself before leaning over and burying his face in the crook of my neck.
For a silver-tinged moment, the three of us simply are.
“By Popelin’s last fucking coin,” Rian mutters, wiping a hand down his sweat-soaked face. “When I escaped, freed a prisoner, and turned around to murder him this morning, I can safely assure you, I had no idea what the outcome would be. But this was not it.”
He draws a thin metal flask from his pocket, unscrews it, then tips it back.
Basten huffs a laugh, exasperated, but there’s no real malice behind it.
He says to Rian, “This doesn’t mean we trust you. You have a long way to go to earn back anything resembling honor. But…” He tips his head back, resting it on the throne’s seat. His eyes sink closed, a battle fought and over. “It’s a fresh start.”
“Just, please, no more Coffin,” Rian mumbles.
I touch my lips, hyper-sensitive and swollen, as I play back what just happened, my skin still snapping from the overwhelming sensations.
“House arrest.” My voice is barely a rasp, but it’s confident.
I look at Basten. “He doesn’t leave Hekkelveld Castle without our permission.
Two guards shadow him at all times. We give him a bedroom—he can sleep, go to the bathroom, eat in the dining hall.
” I stretch out my leg, kicking Rian’s foot with my own.
“If you mess this up, I’ll kill you for real. ”
Rian grins up at the ceiling, eyes glassy and unfocused. “I’ve never had this.” He motions to the three of us with one tipsy finger. “Friends.”
“We aren’t friends,” I say, hard. “I still might kill you.”
But his smile doesn’t dim. He looks boyish. Almost…innocent, in a way I don’t think Rian Valvere has been a day in his life.
And it strikes me that maybe Rian only sought power because he was taught to want it. Cunning was beat into him by a cold-hearted father bent on domination. That maybe, what he wanted this entire time was simply acceptance.
He takes another drink from his flask, sighing contentedly.