You Bet Your Banshee (13 page)

And I did a lot of moaning as his hands arranged my body for penetration. Not that I was complaining or anything. “Fuck me,” I rasped into my pillow, my body strung tight with arousal, my pussy sopping wet for him. “Fuck me, baby. Hard.”

His teeth scraped over my shoulder, his fangs warning me not to order him. I froze instinctively, every inch of my body quivering with the need to disobey him. But then my ass tingled at the thought of one of his spankings. He didn’t give them to me as much anymore, his concern over our unborn child limiting his play some, but he made it up in other ways.

Like now, when he hooked my top leg over his hip and slid his hand over the rounded swell of my belly to stroke through the slick lips of my sex. “You’re getting sassy again,” he said with a growl. His fingers discovered my clit and gently pinched. “You know what I do to sassy queens when they forget how to behave with their mates.”

I quivered, heat exploding through me. He pinched my clit again, making me jump from the near-painful pleasure scorching my veins. “Please,” I gasped, trying to rock my hips to get his cock where I wanted it, but he held me too tightly. “Oh, please, Ryvan, don’t tease me this morning.”

His lips brushed my cheek, the pinching of my clit easing until he strummed it gently. “My poor queen,” he crooned as he dipped his fingers into the dripping wet entrance of my pussy. I moaned when he thrust two digits into my hungry sheath. He groaned as my muscles clenched around him. “Gods, Magda, you’re so tight.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that wouldn’t last once the baby came, especially when the need in my body reached fever pitch with his thrusting fingers pumping into my pussy and his cock rocking against my ass. The slick trail he left on my skin told me he was just as ready to come as I was.

After being together for five years, I knew one way to guarantee he would fuck me the way I wanted. I went boneless against him—again, it wasn’t a hardship—and reached up to play with my own nipples. I knew he watched me as I twisted and plucked at the sensitive peaks because his breathing hitched, his raspy breath washing over the side of my face.

More moisture flooded my pussy, drenching his fingers, the wet, sucking sounds of him thrusting into me making it so much easier to let go of everything and enjoy. I could come like this and Ryvan knew it, which was why he abruptly removed his fingers from my hungry sex and thrust into me.

We both moaned as he rocked forward until we were sealed together like two halves of a whole. One hand slid beneath me to cup my breast, and the other gripped my hip to tug me back into the cradle of his groin. As though I’d want to get away from him. My heart swelled with love and lust and goofiness because he made me so happy.

“I love you,” he rasped against my ear.

I opened my mouth to return the sentiment, but he chose that moment to start fucking me in short, shallow strokes that scattered my thoughts. My breasts bounced from the hard thrusts, our bodies clapping together gently and then more solidly as Ryvan’s rhythm picked up.

“Yes, yes,” I chanted in quick bursts of sound, the words forced from me.

Then he slowed down, making sure I felt every single inch of his silken cock as he stroked me inside and out. I shuddered as he found that special place only he’d ever claimed. I whimpered in the back of my throat, but he still didn’t quicken his pace. He wanted me insane with lust, wanted me to soak us both with my arousal. Apparently my consort didn’t consider his work done until we were left in a puddle of our own making.

The hand on my breast tweaked and pinched my nipple in time with his thrusts. The pleasure bounced back and forth between my pussy and my breast, racing through me until I was mindless for him to let me come.

“Please!”

His dark chuckle made me want to snap at him, to bitch at him to let me come, but he proved how well he knew me by sliding the hand on my hip between my legs. On his next inward thrust, he grazed my clit with his fingers. Only a graze, but he may as well have electrocuted me, because my entire body bucked.

“Yes!” I screamed into my pillow, my hips humping back against him, my body twisting from the massive orgasm tearing through me. “Yes, oh gods, yes!”

He growled in my ear as my pussy clenched around his thrusting cock, sucking him in. He held out for five more strokes, prolonging my orgasm until he exploded. Grinding his hips against my ass, he reached deeper than ever, sparking off another orgasm deep within my body. We strained together, his cock jerking in my flexing sheath, his seed jetting into me.

I went limp with our bodies still attached. My skin was slick with sweat, my thighs and the sheets beneath me damp with our cum, and I’d never been happier in my life.

Soft lips surrounded by bristly hair pressed against my bare shoulder. “Sleep a little longer, my love,” he whispered to me as he stroked the mound of our child resting beneath my heart. “I have several meetings this morning, but I’ll see you after lunch.”

I mumbled something incoherent and drifted back to sleep as my husband and consort eased from our bed. Real life would have to wait until I’d had a little more sleep.

* * * *

I wish I could say there weren’t any problems with my court after I was crowned, but that would be a complete lie. We had twelve attempts on my life, three coups to overthrow me, and at least one bitch who’d tried to steal my consort away. Ryvan and I stood side by side through each trial, dealing with the traitors, or in the nymph’s case, the seductress, with a fair-but-firm hand.

I rested my chin in my hand and stared at the Phineas Tree situated in the center of my court. Breeze slept on the lowest branch. It had become his second favorite spot in the world to sleep, the first being my lap. There wasn’t much room in my lap left now, not with my first child on the way. I don’t think he resented it much and I refused to think the hairball I found in my favorite slippers was retaliation for getting knocked up.

Guards and courtiers moved in and out of the throne room, their voices soft and, I hoped, happy. It was taking time to wipe away the horror Melosia’s reign had left behind. We’d already repealed several of her decrees, most of them concerning the rights parents had over their children. That was how she’d gotten me to the court at such a young age and I didn’t want any children, or parents, to fear I would bring them here to abuse them.

I hadn’t seen Sable since she left for Earth. It turned out the male who’d bellowed for her was none other than the Dark King, Zathan. It seems Sable was his affianced bride who’d run to Earth only days before their wedding. The gargoyle had stormed my court demanding to know where he could find her.

I’d politely told him to shove it and come back when he had better manners. Tensions between the Wailing Court and the Dark Kingdom were a
little
strained at the moment, but knowing Sable had come to Fairworld for me, despite the mountain of a man ready to grab her, only increased my loyalty to her. Ryvan thought it was hysterical and laughed every time Zathan showed up with baubles in the hopes of appeasing me enough to tell him where Sable had gone.

I was holding strong against the temptation so far, but I swear, if he ever brings me an olive loaf sandwich, or a bag of beignets from Café du Monde, I’d cave. I craved that shit like a heroin addict.

One of my advisors approached, bowing deeply. I’d tried to get them to relax, but they seemed to actually
like
the ceremony of a formal court.

“Yes, Roger?”

“Your Majesty, the Prince Consort asks that you remember your lunch date with Queen Tamsyn.”

I winced. I’d forgotten I had to meet Tamsyn for our bimonthly royal klatch. I wasn’t in the mood for honey and biscuits today, but I’d choke it down and pretend they were rib-eye steaks. I owed Tamsyn big time for helping me out when I first took the throne. Our informal lunches had become a habit nearly five years before and I adored her. She warned me not to get too comfortable with her since she was abdicating the throne as soon as her heir was found, but I believed that like I believed Breeze could run a marathon.

Roger cleared his throat and I brought my attention back to him. “Prince Consort also wanted to remind Your Majesty that tonight is your night.”

The perplexed look in the wood elf’s eyes only made what he said funnier.

“I can’t believe you sent Roger in here to tell me it was my night to wear the shackles!”
I telepathed my husband. I knew he was training today.
“If he knew what you meant, he’d have died on the spot!”

“That’s why I told him,”
Ryvan sent back with a seductive laugh.
“And it
is
your night, so I want you waiting in bed, naked for me by the time I finish meeting with the financial council. This morning’s play only whetted my appetite for more.”

He sent me an image of what he planned to do to me once he had me in that bed and my body thrummed with desire. Our telepathic bond had only grown stronger, the love and attraction growing at the same pace. I still danced, but only for him. He’d even gone so far as to install a stripper pole in our private quarters. I don’t know what the servants thought of it, but I’d tried to disguise it as a claw post for Breeze by covering it with carpet when it wasn’t in use.

Ryvan thought my modesty in court was hilarious, and often did things to make me blush or stammer. After meeting his parents, I realized he’d come by his weird sense of humor naturally. His father was a complete devil of a male who kept his water elf wife on her toes. I had a feeling Ryvan would be the same, our bond growing more powerful every day. I had no doubt he’d be chasing me around the Phineas Tree when I was three hundred and using a cane.

“Damn straight, my queen, I love to watch that luscious ass jiggle.”

My cheeks heated at the love and lust in his voice. I sighed, resting my hands on my belly. Yes, it was good to be queen.

THE END

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Danica Avet was born and raised in the wilds of South Louisiana (that would be somewhere around Houma) where mosquitoes are big enough to carry off small children and there are only two seasons: hot and hotter. With a BA in History, she figured there were enough fry cooks in the world and decided to try her hand at writing.

Danica is the lucky pet of a compulsively needy dog and two cats. The pitter-patter of little feet has been known to make her break out into a cold sweat.

Writing is how she gives the voices in her head a way out. When she isn’t writing, working, or contemplating the complexities of the universe, she spends time gathering inspiration from her insane family, reads far more than any sane person would want to, and watches hot burly men chase an oblong ball all over a field.

Siren Classic: The Veil 1:
Ruby: Uncut and on the Loose

Siren Classic: The Veil 2:
Succubus-in-Waiting

Siren Classic: The Veil 3:
Lifestyles of the Fey and Dangerous

Siren Classic: The Veil 4:
Ain’t No Bull

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