Page 36
Story: Duchess of Forsyth
His expression grows stern. “Not like that.”
Nestling down against his chest, I assure, “It’s just first blood, Big Bear.”
There’s a pause, and then, “Is that in the book?”
“No, but…” Shrugging, I make a confession. “I talked to Mrs. Crane last night. She’s the only person who’s ever seen a Queenmaker match. One,” I stress, holding up a finger, “back in the forties or something. Anyway, she said it was first blood. Easy peasy.”
His hand wanders higher, grazing the outside of my ass cheek. “You think that’s easy?”
“I’ve decided,” I begin, pushing up to meet his gaze, “that we’re going to use the event to adopt out all of Archie’s little love children to good, safe Forsyth homes.” I drag my finger down the center of his chest, fixing him with a firm look. “They’ll only be three weeks old then, so you and the frat get to come up with a grueling application process, after which, you’ll personally hand-select the eight approved adoptees.”
Sy always looks great when he first wakes up—warm and rumpled, miles of bare skin and a softness around his eyes. Right now, however, he mostly looks bemused. “And I’d be doing thiswhy?”
I shrug. “Because it’ll be one of my spoils of victory.”
“One of them?” With an incredulous laugh, he tucks an arm behind his head, nestling down into the blankets. He’s still rock-hard beneath me, and when his blue eyes dip down to drink in the scooping neckline of my tight tank top, I can feel it twitchagainst my panties. “You’re acting awfully cocky for a girl I can lift with one arm.”
Unbidden, the memory of last night comes to me. The way he’d lifted me over his shoulder and marched me to bed. Swallowing, it’s a physical battle not to grind down into his hardness. “My second spoils of victory,” I go on, ignoring the cocky look onhisface, “is that you’re going to take the Archduke to get neutered. All forty-three of you, in fact.” Rocking back, I flatten my hands over each of his tight pecs, enjoying his gaping expression. “Once I’ve won, you and the frat can consider it a lesson on disobeying your Queen.”
He snorts, but I can already see it happening. That spark of challenge in his eyes. The way his jaw firms. The flex of his abdomen as he situates himself against the headboard, like he’s wanting me to size him up.
Sy can’t resist the allure of a win. “And what do I get if I win?”
“You can fuck me,” I say, having already thought this out.
The tilt of his mouth is unimpressed. “Look at you,” he says, grabbing my hips. He doesn’t even drag me against his cock. Just the way he grips me, so strong and assured, sends a shiver right down to my thighs. “You’re all flushed down your neck. Your eyes are dilated. You’ve been staring at my chest for most of this conversation, Lavinia. I bet your panties are already soaked because I made you horny without moving a muscle. I can fuck you, win or lose.”
Guiltily, my eyes jerk up from his chest, only to find him staring back at me with a wry grin. It disappears the minute I add, “You can fuck mein the ass.”
Beneath me, his cock gives a series of strong twitches. “Bullshit.”
“No bullshit,” I promise.
Almost as if he can’t help it, the hands on my hips glide around me, each gripping a writhing handful of my ass. “I’d tearyou open like a pinata,” he says, eyes glazing over as he gropes me.
He was right before.
My panties aredrenched. “I’d request one week for Nick and Remy to train me—get me ready for you.”
He pivots up to me like a marionette on a string, his eyes glued to my mouth. I don’t protest when his fingers dip beneath the elastic of my panties. I just match his breaths, shuddering as his fingers follow the crevice of my assdown.
The moment the tip of his forefinger finds my puckered hole, we both suck in a tight inhale. We’ve never even tried that. The thought of inviting that monster in his pants through my backdoor is vaguely terrifying. It’s taken us over a year to work up to the kind of sex we have now. He’s never once complained to me about it, but watching Nick and Remy take me that way has been a point of frustration for him. I know it has.
Sy is a conqueror.
“How are they gonna do that?” he asks, tipping his mouth to brush our lips together.
I wind my arms around his neck, finally allowing my hips to give a dragging shimmy against his cock. “Use your imagination.”
He’s panting now, his fingertip toying with the idea, prodding the muscle like he’s imagining how tight and delicious it’d be. “Deal.” The word is gruff and hungry, and just as his finger breaches my hole, I slip away, enjoying the dazed confusion in his eyes. “Where are you going?”
“Well, I have to train, don’t I?”
Blinking, the divot returns to his brow. “That Queenmaker match Mrs. Crane saw, back in the day…” His question is delivered with an edge of apprehension. “Did the Queen… win?” When all I do is grab my robe from the chair across the room, he pushes to his feet, eyes urgent. “Lavinia, did she win?!”
“See you in the ring, Big Bear.”
The holidays are alwaysbusy in Forsyth.
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