The Queen's Tale Read Online Free Page B

the keys, so I can show you.”
    “Keys?”
    “I need my hands free, Mena, to do what comes next.”
    This kiss opened her. His tongue erased the boundaries between them; thick and wet, it reminded her of having his cock in her mouth and she couldn’t hold back the sound of the hungry yearning she felt.
    “Oh God, Mena. My hands. Now.”
    “No.” She shifted out from under him and sat up. “ No .”
    Even handcuffed, he held so much power over her. Shaking, she pushed him flat on his back. She shifted to her knees, looked down into his wide blue eyes. “Twelve years I was married. I’ve never been the one to say how, when or where. I don’t need your hands. I need your cooperation.”
    She crawled over him, one knee to either side of his hips, one hand flat over his heart, his wrists chained, hands open, reaching… She took his cock firmly in her other hand, and stopped breathing as she notched him into her wet folds. She meant to go slowly, to give herself time; it felt so different than she remembered, so full, warm, harder, stiffer…
    But Dante had other ideas. He thrust quickly upward, crying out as if he were the invaded party, catching her wrists in his shackled hands.
    Trapping her. Trapping himself.
    “Oh, oh my.” Philomena tipped and rolled, locked in place above him.
    “Again,” he groaned.
    Panting, she tried to feel one thing separate from the rest, to repeat what he needed, to understand the sensations lighting her body on fire. She pushed back, sitting up straight, sending his cock higher inside.
    Dante’s head tipped back, exposing his throat and releasing a gasping, guttural: “Oh, fuuuuck.”
    Philomena nearly laughed aloud—again. Happiness bubbled through her, making her lighter and lighter inside. She lifted her hips off her heels and slid down hard and fast, hoping she might be able to make him do it again.
    It worked. Three times in a row, in fact.
    Then all at once, they began to gasp together. Lift to meet each other. Separate with intent. It was the sweetest feeling she’d ever experienced. Her palms pressed solidly over the bones and flesh of his hips, she lifted and fell… “Dante,” she whispered. “Shouldn’t we move to the bed?”
    “Beds are for old, married people. Lovers prefer the carpet.”
    “They do?”
    “Or the wall, the closet, the carriage…”
    His words filled her mind with images as his body filled her with sensations. “But why?”
    “Lovers…need…quick…fierce.” Each of his words punctuated a thrust. “I’ll…teach you…Mena. Every…single…way.”
    “How?”
    His answer was startlingly swift. The muscles of his stomach tightened, his thighs flexed. He pushed forward with his chest, cradling her in the vee of his lifted torso and raised knees. The moment she’d adjusted her limbs for comfort, he pressed his advantage and carried her backward, flat onto the floor, rising on his splayed knees. Frustrated by his restraints, he pulled her into him, one side then the other, locking her tight to his body, her bottom wedged against the slant of his thighs, her knees wide on either side of his hips.
    Here again, the sensation of him changed. How many different ways could it feel? Now there was more than histhickness and heat. She felt the stroke of some sweet, sharp nerve inside. She felt the pinch of tears.
    “More, more. Oh, please…”
    “More like this? How beautiful you are, my Mena, my queen.” Talking while tilting his hips the smallest amount, just enough, Dante pressed inside. He opened her with his body and his words. “Look at me here, on my knees for you. Still wearing your chains. You’re safe with me, yes you are, my queen….” His words wove a spell. “Let go.”
    He bent forward and, with his teeth, caught the tiny blue ribbons that held her silk chemise closed. Tugging, tearing at her last covering, and always tilting, tipping, rocking her inside.
    She hadn’t wanted to be naked in front of him. She’d chosen to keep