Grayling: Nocturnal Creatures Book 3 Page 29

  Blood joined saliva in dripping down the base of his cock and over his scrotum. The captain’s feet scrabbled against the stone floor, alternating between clawed paws and the feet of a man. His howl became a low groan as he thrust into the king’s mouth.

  “Cyric, God, your teeth…”

  The captain was a reticent beast by nature, but his inability to finish a thought amused Asha. She sat on the edge of the tub, creeping her claws over her lips, thighs, abdomen, as she watched the king drag lust from the captain as expertly as he had from her.

  The captain raised his hips from the ground, arching with a broken cry. Seed spilled from the king’s mouth to join the bloodied saliva. The king pulled back just in time for the final pulses of climax to splatter upon the captain’s straining torso. Little holes around the circumference of the captain’s erection marked where the king had bitten through the flesh.

  The captain collapsed back again. The king laughed and ran a finger through the thick liquid to taste.

  “I have not yet finished with you, Rafe. Keep yourself hard for me, but if you come again, I will deny you what you need from her, and you can watch me take it instead.”

  “I would ask whether you are always so demonstrative, captain, but I know you are not,” Asha said. “Are you always so demonstrative with other men, then?”

  The captain caught his breath as the king stood, his own erection plain against his trousers but as secondary to him as ever.

  “No,” the king answered for him, unwinding the rope from around the captain’s neck. His dark gaze was undeniably possessive as he stood to loom over his wolf. “He yields to no man but me. Oh, he has taken the mouths of other men, but never have the men swallowing his cock controlled him in the act. An underrated pleasure, would you not say, Rafe?”

  “If you were not my king, I would kill you with my bare human hands.” But his threat lacked bite when he wrapped his fingers around the shaft, wincing at the teeth marks, although they had already closed.

  “So you yielded to him in such a way on your first night as alpha,” Asha mused, her eyelids heavy, “and nights after.”

  “Enthusiastically,” the king said. “Do not allow him to lie about such things. As long as his pack remains oblivious to their alpha’s brand of diversion, he resists less. It is a matter of principle for him. You are not his only brush with conflict in that respect.” He beckoned to her with the curve of the rope once more. “Your turn, Ashling. Come to me.”

  Asha took her time, splitting her attention between the king and the captain, who sat up with a groan as she approached. His partially soft erection rested against his hip, but it did not soften any more, its curve thick and aggressive, twitching whenever she looked at it.

  The king brought the rope to where he had struck her before, but this time in a caress. “Turn around. Hands behind your back.”

  “You already know I can break through rope, my lord.”

  “You can. But if you do, I am afraid that is when the pleasure would end.” He brought his mouth to her ear, where he had taught her to shiver at the sound. “You will simply have to restrain yourself from such destruction.”

  Asha clasped her hands behind her back. Whatever power he had with the ropes, she gave to him. In its own way, that gave her the freedom to obey. She was no stranger to bondage with him, but she had believed the king would see that differently after the dragons had effectively chained him.

  His motions were patient, the design even more intricate than the previous time. He started at her wrists above her clasped hands and slowly wove and knotted his way up her arms until they were completely restrained in place and she could not move them at all, unless she intended to break through the rope. But the king was right—where would be the pleasure in that?

  Then he looped the rope around her shoulders and above and under her chest to set up a harness in the front.

  “Lean back.” The king traced the line of the rope under her chest with a smile. They squeezed her breasts in slightly, not just showing them off but making them more prominent, trapping blood and sensation. Her nipples were hard as though cold, but he avoided touching them for now. “The ropes will hold you. I will hold you.”

  Bracing her fists against her flanks, then her thighs as she lowered herself farther, she managed to curve her body back in spite of the stiff restraints. The king slipped one of the ropes hanging from the scaffold hooks through the loop at her right shoulder and secured it. Then he moved to her other side and did the same.

  He encircled an ankle and pulled her lower leg up until her heel was near her buttock. Then he took another length of red rope to continue his art.

  “You will be at my mercy, suspended from my scaffold for myself and my captain to move and use at our whim. Your body will be our object but your pleasure our intent, our duty. How does that strike you?” The king dipped his hand between her legs, stroking through her folds, all the more exposed from the way he had contorted her. His fingers came away wet, and her head fell back. “Good girl.”

  Once he was finished binding the lower half of her leg to the upper half, held up by the scaffold, he did the same to the other leg. In her new position, she could not see the designs he had made with the rope over her body.

  “Exquisite.” He passed his fingers over her folds again, then trailed them over her mound and up her abdomen to her breasts. Even on her back, they were pressed together enough to create some shape, nipples pointing to the ceiling. Her useless breath hitched as he caught them between the tips of his claws, just short of pricking through. She twitched but could do little more than sway in the swing of the rope. He steadied her, held her still with his little finger curled around one of the suspension ropes.

  The king had left her head and neck unsupported. She could use her magic to hold them up, but somehow, it seemed like a cheat against what he wanted for her. He finally took pity on her and cradled her head in one hand, massaging the scalp and scratching it lightly.

  “You know, it occurs to me I might not have shown you the indulgence of certain parts of your body. You seemed to enjoy having me inside you, my touch, my kiss. You never asked for more, and we had inadequate time to try many of the things I would have while you were still a human woman. Tell me, Ashling, have any of your lovers tasted you here?” He trailed his claws along the length of her folds, then caught the most sensitive flesh between the tips as he had her nipples.

  Asha arched, much like the captain when the king had taken him in.

  “Briefly. Before you returned. The fever would not grant me more.” As though her words conjured it, she gasped through the quickening heat.

  “Then you know that just as a man enjoys a mouth around his cock, a woman can enjoy pleasure from a mouth over her as well. Captain, you suffer immeasurable craving for flesh. Crawl to her. Give her all the time she could not appreciate before. God, woman, I scent your fever from where I stand.”

  The captain glared at the king, but he twisted onto his knees and prowled to where her legs had been spread by the woven ropes. His limbs were longer than they should have been, his teeth sharp, interlocked, and wet as he passed out of her range of vision.

  Asha jumped at the sensation of teeth at her thigh. Air swirled through her folds at the captain’s inhalation. He crept his palms over the ropes, his heavy breathing turning into a steady growl. “Intoxicating.”

  The captain parted her further, spreading her folds. She tightened her thighs at the sides of his head, but he forced them to separate again, lifting himself up so his shoulders kept her open for him.

  He pressed his tongue against her entrance, tasting her where she was wet. Asha squirmed, a moan surprised from her. The king steadied her again by taking hold of her hair and the rope. The growl from the wolf between her legs grew harsh, and he pushed his tongue deeper into her cunt.

  It was quite a different sensation than cock or fingers, his tongue as wet as she was but hotter, somehow defter than fingers, reaching new
places. It took several passes inside her before she realized he was using the wolf’s tongue, though his hands were still those of a man gripping at her thighs.

  “Rafe…” She would take him by the hair as he had the king, but her hands were clenched and bound behind her back.

  He pulled his tongue back into his mouth and groaned at her taste. Then he dragged the tip of his tongue through the furrow of her parted folds before pulling the fore taut over the flesh that nearly screamed at the hot, wet, velvet torment that circled it.

  “There,” the king murmured above her, tightening his grip in her hair in counterpoint to her clenching body. “A kingdom that valued not the desires of its women might not have acknowledged such centers of pleasure, inside or outside. I have exploited what lies within you often, but how remiss of me to neglect this one. It must be such a feast, Rafe, when your nature is to devour.”

  The wolf’s growls reached deeper into her than his tongue, than his cock, joining with the soundless vibration of her arousal as the captain applied all of his furious lust upon that flesh that pulsed, swelled, heated, tightened against his mouth and the threat of his teeth. He slithered his tongue over her, nibbled upon her folds as though he would truly predate upon her, closed his mouth over her and sucked. Beneath the noises of his feast came the unmistakable sound of his hand stroking his cock, as carnal and fleshly as what he was doing to her.

  She had no words for it, only what pleasure wrenched from her throat. She tried to bring him closer or ease him away when the pleasure became too intense, but she had ceded control when she had obeyed her king, and all she could do now was suffer the sensations as they swept through her, tension coiling her muscles tighter and tighter within their confines.

  She heard him inside her before it reached her through the air.

  “He scents your fever, but I taste it, little girl. Just the taste brings me close.” He drew the juices from her cunt into his mouth again, making no effort to restrain his groan.

  “If you come before I allow you inside her, Rafe, I will make you hard again for the whole night without relief. Control yourself, wolf of mine.” But despite the clipped command in the king’s voice, he smiled.

  The captain delved into her cunt again, gorging himself upon her and smearing her juices over his face, where it could not cool. A feast indeed, no etiquette, nothing polite, yet Asha keenly felt his compliments to the bounty she offered. The tip of his tongue curled at the place inside that had her begging for him, his name spilling from her lips and his moans shuddering in rolls of thunder through her. Despite her fever, his heat rose higher, his mouth searing as he brought it back to the foreflesh of her folds.

  Sweat dripped from her skin as though she had emerged once more from the bath. She struggled against the ropes, then struggled not to struggle too much. The darkness behind her eyelids went red. Against her volition, her thrall pulsed from her in waves to match the intensity of her arousal.

  The captain released her thigh and his cock, slamming his hands to the ground hard enough to make the scaffold shake. His claws scraped through the stone. The king laughed, full and rich to echo through the arches, but the captain managed to keep himself from disobeying his master, as Asha had avoided tearing the rope.

  She took her tongue between her teeth, resisting the urge to bite through. So close. She was so close, so hot, too hot for her new form, as though she would puddle like candle wax if she could not achieve release.

  “Please, Rafe, please.”

  “Her thrall will not ensnare you any less until you give her what she needs,” the king said. The evidence of her thrall upon him was plain in the erection that strained the bonds of his trousers, but still he made no effort at his own release. “I have never felt one of my kind so warm to the touch. She is unpredictable, Rafe. Best to do as the queen pleases, or else you will not do as you please.”

  The captain bit her thigh, then took the center of her arousal between his teeth and sucked hard, over and over.

  The king muffled her scream with his fingers forced into her mouth and holding her head back. He grunted at the tightening of her thrall upon both men, but it was the captain who truly attacked back in response. He tore through the stone and would not relent.

  Her orgasm ripped through her in an assault, and he kept it going, her cunt clenching harder and harder, until her thrall snapped with the tension in her body. At the final release, he eased from her folds to more leisurely lap at the juices from his labor.

  Her limbs twitched in the ropes by the time he sat back on his heels. He grabbed the linen with which she had dried herself and used it to wipe his face.

  “We have not finished with you yet, minx.” The king kept his fingers in her mouth, moving against her tongue in an obvious motion.

  When she brought her teeth against them, that merely emboldened him to fill her with more, deeper, until she practically took in his whole hand. Both the king and the captain were entranced by the feat far longer than they seemed to have intended. It took Asha pressing her teeth just a little too hard at the knuckles for the king to shake his head and free her mouth.

  “Do you hunger, Asha, hunger for more than blood, more than flesh? I can give you something else to occupy your mouth.”

  Asha’s head hung limp, and she swung lightly in the ropes. Her position had put her at perfect feasting height for a kneeling wolf, and it put her at just the right height now to view the king’s erection as he brought his fingers to the fastenings of his trousers. She ran her tongue over her teeth, answer enough to his question.

  Her eyes closed, though, when the captain brought the blunt head of his cock between her folds. Rather than force himself in, he seemed to let her swallow him with the fluttering aftershocks of her orgasm and renewed desire. He grunted as he brought his hips flush to hers.

  When her mouth fell open in a soundless moan, the king took the opportunity to bring his cock to her lips. He traced them with the tip, hissing slightly when she licked the precome first from her lips and then from the head itself. The king did not enter her as his captain did, though. He held himself just far enough away that she strained to reach him, stretched out her tongue to beckon him closer.

  He rewarded Asha by stepping forward for her to curl her tongue around him, to draw him in. It forced her head back more, but now his cock held her head up.

  With him nearer, he gave her what little control was granted to her with the rest of her bound. She pushed her tongue under the retracted foreskin. Her teeth caught on the flesh, and she probed into the slit to make him groan again.

  The captain forced her to groan in discordant tandem as he ground into her. His claws dug into her hips deep enough to draw blood; he would not be able to hold himself back much longer.

  “With all the distractions, perhaps you did not notice how close we have come to the full moon, my love.” The king held her gently by the neck, stroking his thumb along its length. He found the scars from the bite marks he, Lysan, and the captain had made, the puncture left by Murial, the places left behind by blunt male fingernails. “As pale as you were, your new skin practically glows. He swells and growls, becomes a beast to live with, loses his civilized mind at the sight of you. And who can blame him, my night queen, my white winter rose streaked with red? Rose to me, moon to him, thorn and curse and beauty and illumination, all.”

  He pressed deeper over her tongue. She expected to gag against the intrusion, but it seemed the dead had no need. The king’s hands clenched as she arched and took him down into her throat. The captain aided her endeavor, violently shoving forward and swinging her toward the king.

  The king slipped his palm to her neck, where his cock had bulged it out. His hand trembled, and his voice was strained when he said, “Can you take us?”

  “Yes.”

  His thrall hit her just as hers unfurled to wrap both men with her own invisible ropes. The captain clutched and clawed at the jutting shelf of her hips, pitching forward. His braids and be
ads tumbled over each other on her abdomen as he tossed his mane. The click of his teeth told her how he fought off the wolf, but she poured her thrall into as though seeking to overflow a chalice with wine until he slammed his cock into her without any attempt to curb his strength.

  She was no longer human, and pain stimulated her quite differently than it once had—although not as differently as she might have thought before the transformation. Unable to see him, watch him, she could only focus her attention on the parts of him he gave her—the brush of his hair against her skin, his claws in her hips, and his cock within her. She could practically imagine its entire topography as it moved inside her.

  She had no say in how deep he went or how hard he thrust, no say in the angle or speed. She wanted to touch him everywhere, wrap her legs around his waist, climb and ride him like a wolf. But she was the one in harness. She was the one being ridden. And she could not get enough of him. He could not take her hard enough, no matter how her thrall spurred him on, how on edge she and the king made him.

  The king stifled her cries, taking her mouth with more deliberate consideration, although the captain’s pace forced the matter to a certain degree. He could keep her steady in the rope swing, but sometimes the captain pushed her too hard for the arching of her back to adjust. Asha poured the amalgam of her lust and frustration into sucking and licking his cock every time the king pushed it in.

  Then she used her teeth.

  He shouted, pushing all the way into her until she latched to the base—a shallow bite, but her teeth were curved to cling. His black blood beaded where she had scraped over him. She whimpered, sucking now for herself as much as for him. He could thrust and withdraw, but shallowly. Between teeth, tongue, and the thrall that snagged within him as sharply as her teeth and her thorns, he thrust almost counterpoint to the captain.

  They passed her between them. When one went deep, the other withdrew, back and forth.

  Her limbs out of commission, her body swaying rhythmically, both ends abused and dominated by the insistent cocks of men who desired her to a point of shared weakness… It all built up inside of her until she stopped straining against the ropes, stopped digging her thrall and her teeth in, stopped wishing she could do more to bring her men closer, deeper, harder, wishing she could touch all of them at once and have their hands all over her. Her jaw relaxed around the king’s erection, and her thighs fell apart.