Page 126 of Foundling

He planted a knee on the bed between hers, leveraging himself over her. Leita wiggled on the bed, needing more. Her legs fell open, hips undulating, inviting him closer.

Attalus rumbled with a laugh, a rich sound she felt as a caress between her thighs. “Such a needy thing you are today, agae. Do you want me so badly?”

“Yes,” she whined, not too proud to admit it. “Make it better.”

Nostrils flaring, Attalus descended onto his elbow in an elegant swoop. His free hand cupped her knee, pushing it to the side, nearly down to the bed, exposing her to the cool morning air. The back of his hand made teasing passes up and down her inner thigh, over her mons, and back again, never straying too close to where she wanted him.

“What a privilege it is to serve the Queen,” he crooned, “and see her in such a state.”

“Only you,” she panted, hips rolling desperately to try and catch even a stray touch. Her body burned for more pressure, more attention, and the temptation to do it herself with her magic sat like a knife in her gut—but Leita wanted his touch, his attention.

She had all the magic a fae could want, a Queendom at the tips of her fingers, but all she wanted was her azai.

He had her pinned like a butterfly on paperboard, and they both knew it. Attalus wouldn’t be rushed, working her into an impatient frenzy with every maddening touch—everywhere except where she needed him most.

When she tried to urge him closer with a heel to his back, his tail curled around her ankle, holding her open for his ministrations.

Finally, finally, two fingers slid down through her swollen, needy flesh, exposing her clitoris and entrance. She whined, hips bucking, needing—

His tail released her ankle just long enough for the end to slap her cunt wetly. Leita jolted, not sure whether the sensation or her surprise was greater. He did it once more, that infernal chuckle vibrating in his throat, before his tail swirled sinuously around her ankle and calf.

An inarticulate cry escaped Leita when his hand covered her, palm pressing down to offer widespread but only mild pressure.

“Attalus…” she mewled.

“The Queen herself, begging.” Two fingers plunged inside her, sinking up to the third knuckle easily. “Soaked already,” he purred, adding his thumb to tweak her clitoris side to side.

She jerked under him, testing his hold on her wrists, but Attalus wouldn’t budge.

While his fingers worked her higher, he dipped his head to lavish a nipple with his tongue. The pressure at first was light, fluttering touches that made her skin jump.

As he switched between breasts, Attalus crooned, “What a warrior Queen you’ll make, agae. Defending the land in your righteous fury. Ride me into battle. We’ll make the earth tremble with fear and envy both, Queen and consort together.”

Fuck, his mouth. How was it that he used it to such grand effect whatever he did?

Under that tongue and his steady, thrusting fingers, Leita began to soften to his argument. Orgasm built to sweet agony, and it’d take just one more lick, one more stroke to unleash.

With a kiss to her throat, Attalus murmured, “Tell me, doe. Say we’ll ride together.”

Leita’s lips peeled back as tears gathered in her eyes. Her head thrashed back and forth when she choked, “I can’t.”

His fingers stopped. His lips left her.

Her burning body was left cold as he straightened above her, denying her her pleasure and his touch.

Outrage burst from her mouth, Leita lifting her head to glare at him.

Attalus glared right back.

As she watched, his free hand made quick work of the intricate knots keeping his robes closed. With a flick of his wrist, the fabric fell open, revealing the long length of his hard body and the weeping cock bobbing against his belly.

Leita smirked up at him, even as her own body throbbed with wanting.

With a sneer, Attalus took hold of himself at the base and fed his cockhead into her waiting cunt. Her back arched, the burn and stretch delicious as he pushed his way inside in a single, unrelenting thrust.

Only when she’d taken him to the root did he say, “I’ll be your stud, my Queen. I’ll give you as many babes as you wish.”

His thrusts were brutal, lacking finesse or rhythm. He pounded inside her, running her down, attacking her defenses. Head thrown back, Leita cried out her ecstasy, hips bucking to meet him.