King's Virgin Read Online Free Page A

piece, and then stiffened when she
heard someone clapping. Turning slowly, she saw King Lyon, and a
flush crept over her face that wasn’t entirely due to
embarrassment.
    “ How long have
you been standing there?” she demanded, forgetting that she’d
decided to subdue herself so as not to get into any more trouble.
    “ Long enough
to know that with proper training, you could be an extraordinary
pianist.” He smiled, the expression at odds with the hungry
look in his eyes. Did he always have to look at her in quite that
way? Didn’t it know that it turned her brains to mush, her
knees to jelly?
    “ Be that as it
may, it is very rude to intrude unannounced. Surely you knew I was
not expecting an audience.”
    “ I don’t
recall the necessity of asking your permission,” the King
replied smoothly, and there was annoyance in his eyes now. He crossed
the distance between them and Cordova stiffened further, unsure as to
his intentions. She was surprised when, rather than kissing her or
laying a hand on her as his behavior suggested he wanted to do, he
sat down beside her on the piano bench.
    “ Play
something,” he demanded.
    Cordova sucked in a
breath. She wanted to retort, but found his proximity robbed her of
speech—his powerful thigh muscles brushed against hers,
inciting more shivers along with a quivering in her womb. Knowing it
would be unwise to refuse, she flexed her fingers to stop their
trembling, then placed her hands on the keys and allowed the first
melody that came to mind to flow through her fingers—a ballad.
    She nearly missed a
note when the King began to sing, and had to make a conscious effort
to keep her eyes focused on the keys instead of turning to look at
him like she so desperately wanted. His voice was wonderful, rich and
flowing and masculine, like sound spun into heavy silk. What
surprised her most was that he knew the lyrics; it was a song about
forgiveness, passion, and tender words between lovers. To be able to
sing it with such a depth of emotion indicated that he empathized,
even understood, and that was not something she expected. Or could
easily accept.
    When the last
strains of the melody faded away, she forced herself to meet his
gaze. “You have a lovely voice.”
    His eyes were intent
on hers; unreadable. “Taking the frown on your face into
consideration, I am not sure that I believe you.”
    Cordova hesitated.
“I just never…”
    “… Thought
that I sang? I am not surprised, Miss. Thomas.” He laughed
bitterly. “To you I am just a lout, a petty tyrant who revels
in war and suffering. Of course in your mind it shouldn’t be
possible for me to have an appreciation for the finer, more delicate
things in life. And I shouldn’t, not when my grandfather worked
so hard to beat it out of me at such a young age.”
    “ I’m
sorry…” An image of him being caned by his grandfather
flashed through her mind, and she shook her head. Oh no. She was not
going to let him cultivate sympathy for him inside her heart. He
could easily be spinning a tale—though for what purpose, she
did not know. Still, his words tugged at her heartstrings despite her
cynical mind.
    “ Never mind.”
He circled his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
“I did not come down here to speak of a distant past. I came
here for you.”
    Heart pounding,
Cordova tilted her head up to meet his lips at the same time King
Lyon bent his head. She fisted her hands in his doublet as his tongue
slid sensually against hers, stoking the embers smoldering in her
womb into a full-fledged flame, and moaned into his mouth.
    Reaching out with
one hand, Lyon pulled the wooden cover over the piano keys, then
stood and placed Cordova on top of it so that her hips were level
with his. His shaft was already aching, and he rucked up her dress
around her hips so he could press his thickness against her core,
still kissing her.
    Cordova moaned as
the King began to grind himself against her, pressing up