King's Virgin (2 page)

She couldn’t
believe this was happening. Why, oh why hadn’t she just kept
her thoughts to herself? How could she have been so stupid as to
think her letters wouldn’t be intercepted? She was not of royal
blood, after all, and the King was always on the lookout for spies.

You’re
lucky you weren’t tortured and beheaded, like he’d
suggested would be appropriate for your behavior.

Sighing, she lowered
herself onto the settee, pushing aside the pale pink cushions so she
could stretch out and think. He was right to tell her that she should
be grateful—at least for sparing her life. But she was still
furious. Even though he was enshrouding her in secrecy, that no one
aside from a select number of guards would know about what she would
be forced to do, she would still know on the inside that she was
ruined. Once she returned home, she would never be able to marry a
man, for she could not deceive one, and who would want to marry a
King’s mistress, spoiled and used? It didn’t matter that
she would spread her legs between silk sheets instead of a crumbling
doorway. She would still be nothing more than a whore.

Her eyes drifted
closed, then opened as she heard the faint sounds of a man’s
footfalls against soft carpet. Turning her head, she watched King
Lyon enter the drawing room, still dressed in the same clothing he’d
worn at her ‘trial’. He caught sight of her and paused,
standing in the middle of the room, dominating it with his powerful,
imposing frame. She swallowed hard, her heart thumping loudly in her
ears. Why did he make her blood heat so? He was a pompous, arrogant
tyrant.

Frowning, his eyes
raked her form. “You did not choose one of the dresses in the
wardrobe provided for you?”

Cordova’s
cheeks colored as she rose. “I see no need to subject myself to
the garish fashions of court any moment sooner than I have to. Unlike
the ladies of your court who think nothing of baring their bosoms to
get what they want, I am a modest woman.”

King Lyon laughed.
“You are provided with a King’s ransom of clothing that
the women of my court would swoon over, and you call them garish?”

Cordova bit her
lower lip, unsure if she had upset him or not. “I don’t
mean to sound ungrateful, your Majesty,” she amended, trying
for a less petulant approach. It wouldn’t do to make her life
more difficult than it was already going to be. “But I simply
can’t bring myself to wear those fashions.”

The King lifted an
eyebrow. “They are what you have been provided with, and until
you have earned the right to ask for more, you will wear them. Either
that, or you can go naked.”

Cordova gasped, her
cheeks coloring. “I beg your pardon?”

King Lyon grinned.
“Now that I think of it, I may just order you to forgo clothes
completely. After all, you are all alone down here, so no one other
than I will be able to see you. And it would be so much more
convenient for me.”

Cordova’s
flush deepened, rage joining her mortification. “I refuse.”

“
Suit
yourself.” Lyon stepped forward, closing the distance between
them, and Cordova felt her skin tingle in anticipation. “In any
case, your garments offend me. It’s time we take them off.”

“
W-what?”
Now?

Lyon’s eyes
sparked hungrily, and her entire body heated. “I’m not
the type of man who is content with tossing up a woman’s skirts
and taking his pleasure. I want to see your body. All of it.”

“
Yes,”
she breathed, her cheeks heating again. It sounded as though she were
agreeing with him rather than simply acknowledging him. Her fingers
trembled as she lifted them to the row of buttons trailing down her
front, and she fumbled, trying to loosen them.

“
I…”
her breathing hitched. “I cannot.” She’d never
stripped in front of a man before, and King Lyon’s hot gaze
made it impossible for her to concentrate.

Lyon softened at the
panic in her eyes and the stiffness in her spine. “Let me help
you,” he murmured huskily, brushing her hands away so he could
undo the buttons himself. He could practically feel the innocence
rolling off her in waves. It had been awhile since had last taken a
virgin. He was going to have to be gentle, this first time.

Popping the last
button, he released his hands and let the dress pool around her
ankles, then sucked in a breath as he studied her. Clad only in a
thin chemise, her curves were exposed to his gaze, and they were even
lusher than he’d expected. Her breasts were ripe melons, the
nipples straining against the thin, white material. Her waist was
tiny, her hips flared—a body made for childbearing. Her calves
looked silky, her ankles dainty and graceful.

“
You’re
beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely, running his large, callused
palms up and down her bare arms.

Cordova shivered,
leaning into the King’s warm hands—not that she was cold.
Far from it. She was sure that if she looked down her entire skin
would be pink from the heat coursing through her body. But her eyes
were riveted to King Lyon’s gaze—dark, hungry,
commanding.

“
Why are you
doing this?” she murmured, trembling all over from the chills
his touch incited. “Why do you choose to spare me?”

“
Because I
can,” he retorted harshly, yanking her against his big, hard
body. His lips crashed down to claim hers, and Cordova moaned—she
couldn’t help it. Her body loved the proximity between them,
craved it, wanted more. Her nipples tingled as they scraped against
his doublet, and moisture pooled between her thighs.

Lyon plundered her
mouth with his tongue, dominating her utterly as he reveled in her
sweetness. He loved the little sound she made when he’d pulled
her against him—soft and passionate, just like her body felt
against him. Without breaking the kiss he swung her up into his arms
and carried her to the bedroom, where he set her upon the large bed
that dominated the room.

Stepping back, he
took a moment to study her again, admiring the way her chemise
contrasted against the gilt and garnet coverlet. Her green eyes were
smoky with desire, her cheeks flushed, her heavy bosom heaving,
nipples straining against the material of her undergarment.

“
Your
Majesty?” she asked hesitantly, unsure as to what he wanted
from her. From the stories she heard, men tended to fall on their
mistresses like slavering dogs, taking their pleasure and then moving
on with their business. But the King spent an awfully long time just
simply looking at her, as though she were a feast he was about to
savor.

“
This needs to
come off,” he growled, tugging her shoulders so that she rose
up. His fingers curled around the straps of her chemise, and then it
was pulled over her head and tossed aside, to flutter to the floor
like a butterfly wing.

“
Oh, yes,”
he murmured, drinking in her creamy, naked flesh with his eyes. Her
ran his hands down her sides, enjoying the feel of her smooth,
unmarred skin, and the way her curves fit so perfectly into his
palms. She arched into his touch, offering her dusky rose nipples to
him, and he took greedily, cupping her breasts before leaning down
and suckling gently on her right one.

“
Oh!” A
cry flew from Cordova’s lips, filled with surprise and
pleasure. Exquisite sensation rippled through her with each suck,
each tug, as he pleasured her nipples with his mouth and hands. His
teeth nipped, his tongue licked, his fingers pinched and rolled,
until she was wrapping her legs around his waist and rubbing her core
shamelessly against his erection, mindlessly seeking relief.

Lyon groaned at the
feel of Cordova’s warm center rubbing along the length of his
shaft—the pleasure was incredible, and he hadn’t even
removed his clothes yet. How much more pleasurable would it be to rub
himself against her bare flesh? To sink his shaft deep inside her?

Impatient, he pulled
back and yanked at the buttons of his doublet. In short order it
joined the chemise on the floor along with the linen shirt he wore
underneath. Cordova caught her breath as she watched him stand—his
chest muscles rippled in the candlelight, dusted lightly with curls
the same color as the hair atop his head. He kicked off his boots,
and then tore off his hose, freeing his shaft, and she gasped.

Lyon chuckled at the
shock in his new mistress’s eyes. “Have you never seen
one before?” he asked, boldly curling his fingers around the
hard length.

Cordova gulped as
her pulse kicked up a notch—she should have found such an
action lewd, but instead she wanted to knock his hand aside and
replace it with
her
fingers.
“I… you’re just so
large
.”

“
Don’t
worry,” Lyon assured her as he returned to the bed. “I
will fit.” Crouching before her, he slid his hands underneath
the backs of her thighs and drew her knees up before spreading her
legs. “Beautiful,” he murmured again, staring at the
glistening pink folds between her legs, crowned with a thatch of
silky black curls. He ran his fingers through them, then down her
nether lips, coating them in her moisture. She was wet already, so
wet.

Cordova whimpered,
arching her hips against his hand. With each brush of his fingers,
pleasure stabbed, and she wanted more of it. His fingers tunneled
through her folds, and she cried out as he hit a spot that sent arcs
of pleasure shooting through her.

Lyon grinned as her
head fell back on the mattress, and continued to stimulate the little
nub, rubbing it back and forth between his fingers until she was
bucking mindlessly against his hand.

“
Oh, oh, oh!”
she screamed as something inside her burst, following by crushing
waves of pleasure that wiped her mind of all thought. It was good.
So, so, good. She’d never experienced anything like this
before.

Lyon rose up and
positioned his shaft near Cordova’s entrance, the mushroom tip
rubbing gently at the folds, coating him in her creamy wetness. He
pushed in while she was still in the throes of her orgasm, tearing
through her hymen, which provided minimal resistance. Cordova
stiffened, uttering a low moan, and he went utterly still. When he
felt her relax, he eased into her slowly.

“
By the Gods,”
he gasped. “You’re so tight.” Her inner walls gave
inch by inch, stretching and wrapping around him as they frantically
worked to accommodate his size.
Torture,
sweet, sweet torture.

Cordova gasped as he
finally filled her to the hilt, squirming slightly as she became
accustomed to the feel of having a man inside her. She… liked
it, she decided. Liked the way his thick, hard shaft felt, filling
her up, pulsing hungrily inside her.

“
I… I
am alright,” she whispered.

“
Good,”
he rumbled, leaning down and burying his face in the crook of her
neck in a surprisingly tender move. His tongue darted out to flick
across the pulse hammering at her throat, and she shivered, a tiny
little moan slipping past her lips. “Mmm. You taste good,
woman.”

Gradually, he began
to move inside her, working up a steady rhythm. Cordova dug her
fingernails into the coverlet as he worked his shaft inside her,
gasping with each wonderful, pleasure-filled stroke. King Lyon hauled
her legs up so she could wrap them around his waist, and then dug his
fingers into her hips so he could control the pace. He looked
magnificent, like a warrior, muscular and golden, his eyes hot as he
stared down at her, hips pumping.

Soon, the languorous
pace was not enough, and Cordova began moving her hips frantically,
trying to get him to increase the speed. He refused at first, but
when, out of desperate inspiration, she reached between them and
cupped his sac in her hand he relented with a groan. Sliding his
hands from her hips, he gripped each of her buttocks and lifted, then
pounded into her for all he was worth.

“
Gods,”
he muttered hoarsely. “Good. So good.” He knew he wasn’t
going to last very long at this pace and so reached down, thumbing
that sweet spot between her legs as he continued to slam his shaft
inside her. He felt her stiffen, then scream as the orgasm washed
through her and pulled out, spilling his seed across her belly.
Spent, he collapsed on the bed next to her, breathing heavily.

Exhausted from
lovemaking and a long, stressful day, Cordova slipped into sleep.

****

When Cordova woke,
King Lyon was gone. He’d tucked a blanket around her, but she
still shivered—she did not sleep naked, and was not used to the
lack of layers.