Chapter 76 Lucian #2
I put my mouth to her center and tasted her fully, tongue lapping up every drop. She bucked beneath me, her free hand fisting in my hair, pulling me closer as her moans filled the chamber.
“Taste so good,” I murmured against her, lips brushing her clit.
“Our beautiful queen, always so responsive. Such a perfect mate, letting us devour you.” I sucked her clit into my mouth, rolling it gently with my tongue while sliding two fingers inside her tight heat.
She clenched around them immediately, her walls fluttering as I pumped slow and deep.
“Lucian, please, I need...”
“Tell me.”
“I need you more. Please.”
In the mirror, the sight was intoxicating.
Mira on her back, legs spread wide for her king, her hand working Solomon’s cock with expert twists. Solomon stood over her, head tipped back, muscles corded in restraint.
And me, buried between her thighs, eating her out like a starving man. The reflection made my own cock throb painfully in my trousers.
Mira’s strokes on Solomon grew bolder, her fist gliding from base to tip, squeezing just right. He thrust into her hand, growling praises. “That’s it, Your Highness. Milk me just like that.”
She writhed under my mouth, her hips grinding up to meet my fingers. I added a third, stretching her, curling them to stroke that inner wall until she sobbed with need.
“Come again for me,” I urged, voice muffled against her skin. “Show Solomon how you soak my face.”
Her second orgasm hit harder, her pussy gushing over my tongue as she cried out our names. Solomon watched in the mirror, his cock twitching in her grip, and the shared bond sent sparks of her pleasure racing through us all.
“Come here,” she said to him, voice husky and commanding despite her blissed-out state. She pulled him closer, guiding his cock to her mouth with her hand still wrapped around the base. She took him in deep, tongue flat against the underside, swirling around the head before sucking hard.
Solomon’s composure cracked wide open. His hand fisted in her copper hair, not pulling but guiding gently as his hips rocked forward in shallow thrusts.
“Oh, fuck, Mira,” he panted. “Such talented sucking.”
The mirror reflected every detail.
Me on my knees between my queen’s thighs, my cock now freed and sliding against her entrance, teasing her folds. Solomon in her mouth, his thick length disappearing between her lips as she hollowed her cheeks and bobbed her head.
Mira between us, taking both with the confidence of a woman who owned us completely, her eyes flicking to the glass to watch herself.
I pushed inside her then, inch by inch, her pussy stretching around my girth. She was so wet, so hot, clenching.
“Yes,” I groaned, bottoming out with a slow roll of my hips. “Feel that, my queen? Look in the mirror, see how we fill you up.”
She moaned around Solomon’s cock, the vibration making him thrust deeper, his praises spilling out. “Watch yourself, Mira. Our beautiful queen, stuffed at both ends. Suck harder, just like that.”
I started moving, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, the chaise creaking under us. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, nipples peaked and begging for attention.
I reached up to pinch one, rolling it between my fingers as I fucked her steady and deep. The mirror showed it all: my cock plunging into her pussy, slick with her arousal, Solomon’s sliding between her swollen lips, saliva trailing down her chin.
“You’re our everything,” I told her, voice strained as pleasure coiled tight. “Milk my cock while you swallow Solomon.”
Solomon’s hand tightened in her hair, his thrusts picking up pace.
“Close, Your Highness,” he warned, eyes locked on the mirror. “Your mouth is too good.”
The visual in the glass pushed me over.
Her body arching, pussy fluttering around me.
My knot swelled at her entrance, locking us as I came hard, flooding her with hot spurts.
She followed, screaming around Solomon’s cock, her release triggering his.
He pulled out just enough to paint her tongue, then pushed back in, groaning as she swallowed him down.
We collapsed together, breaths mingling, the mirror still reflecting our tangled, satisfied forms.
“Our queen,” Solomon whispered, kissing her forehead. “Always so incredible.”
I rested my forehead against Mira’s belly. Her fingers found my hair. Solomon’s hand settled on my shoulder.
“The ceremony,” Mira said after a long, wrecked silence. “We have... how long?”
“An hour and twenty minutes,” Solomon said. He hadn’t moved his hand from my shoulder.
“We need to fix the dress.”
“I’ll call the seamstress,” I said against her belly.
“You absolutely will not. She’ll know.”
“She’ll know regardless. Lycan nose.”
Mira covered her face with both hands. “I’m being crowned in a dress that smells of sex.”
“You’re being crowned as a queen who just had two of her mates inside her. It’s no big deal here. The kingdom should be aware of what it’s getting.”
“I hate you.”
“You don’t.”
“No, I do.”
A knock at the door.
“If you three are finished in there,” Percy’s voice called through the wood, “I’ve just survived an hour of your parents explaining lycan gestation timelines in graphic detail, and I need emotional support.”
Solomon was already moving. Trousers up, shirt straightened.
“Did you know lycan pregnancies are faster?” Percy continued through the door. “Because I didn’t. And your mother had visual aids, Lucian.”
Mira was laughing so hard she couldn’t stand. I helped her up while Solomon retrieved the gown and began reassembling the corset with the same hands that had stripped it off her fifteen minutes ago.
“You abandoned me,” Percy said when the door opened.
He stood in the corridor in his formal consort attire, silver and deep green, his hair actually combed for once. His eyes swept the room. Mira’s flushed face and Solomon’s suspiciously pristine composure.
“Oh, come on!” He spread his arms. “You didn’t even invite me?”
“You were busy with charts,” Mira said, adjusting her bodice.
“I was being terrorized. And I could’ve been here instead, contributing, participating, being included in the pre-coronation traditions.”
“This isn’t a tradition,” Solomon said.
“It is now.” Percy leaned against the doorframe and grinned at Mira. “You look incredible, by the way.”
“I look ruined.”
“Same thing. Also...” He straightened. The grin shifted into genuine warmth.
“I’m officially the wealthiest noble in Veyndral.
Did anyone mention that? The Kaelwyn estate.
Turns out my parents were loaded. Two hundred years of compound interest managed by the most loyal servant in recorded history, and I’m richer than both of you combined. ”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Solomon said.
“Too late. It’s entirely in my head. I’ve been mentally redecorating the estate for the past four hours. There’s going to be a pancake kitchen.”
“You burn every pancake you make.”
“I burn them with wealth now. Noble pancakes. Aristocratic char.”
Mira reached up and straightened his collar. “You’re not a rogue anymore.”
Percy went still. The humor faded just enough to show what lived underneath it: the orphan who’d spent two centuries not knowing his own surname, following his brothers’ lead, believing he had nothing to offer except loyalty and a good right hook.
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not.”
“Percival Kaelwyn. Wealthiest noble in the kingdom. Owner of a pancake kitchen.”
“When you say it, it sounds real.”
“It is real.” She smoothed his collar flat. “And you deserve every bit of it.”
The corridor outside the dressing chamber led to the grand balcony that overlooked Veyndral’s central courtyard. Torches lined the pathway, their flames reflected in the polished obsidian floors.
Mira walked between us. Gown restored, hair pinned properly this time with Solomon supervising, the obsidian pendant centered at her throat. Her shoulders were back. Her chin was up.
She didn’t look nervous. She looked ready.
The balcony doors stood twenty feet tall, carved obsidian inlaid with silver, depicting the founding of Veyndral during the Burning Years. Two guards pulled them open and the sound hit us first.
Thousands of voices. Rising from the courtyard below, from the streets beyond, from the Glowwood’s edge where wolves had gathered in both forms to witness the moment their king introduced the woman who’d cured their people, freed their prisoners, and ended a war that had lasted centuries.
Mira stepped onto the balcony.
The roar that greeted her shook the obsidian beneath our feet. Lycans bowing, wolves howling, the sound rolling across the kingdom.
She stood at the railing and looked down at them. At the kingdom that was now hers. At the people she’d bled for before she’d ever set foot on their soil.
Tears slid down her cheeks. She didn’t wipe them.
I stood behind her. Solomon on her left. Percival on her right.
It was the first moment in five hundred years that I understood what the crown was actually for.
It was this.
Watching the woman I loved realize she belonged somewhere.
That the place she’d been searching for her entire life, the home she’d been too scared to name, existed on the other side of a portal in a kingdom who’d understood, better than anyone, what it meant to need somewhere safe.
Mira turned to me. The tears hadn’t stopped but her smile was the brightest thing in Veyndral.
“I’m home,” she said.
The crowd roared. The wolves howled.
And the queen of Veyndral stood on her balcony as her kingdom welcomed her.