Page 85 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Could she go down that path? After everything, could she be intimate with Keyain? It would further their plans, their goals. If it built Keyain up higher, it meant he had farther to fall. With a steadying breath, she set the books to the side, looking at Keyain. “I heard history repeats itself.”

“It does.” He turned back to her, but he didn’t seem to breathe.

He was waiting for her to invite, for her to initiate. “Then maybe let’s repeat it.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, approaching the edge of the bed.

“Who is this Keyain who asks when I’m sure after inviting you into bed?” she said, smirking. “Yes, I’m sure.” But truly, she wasn’t.

Keyain pulled his shirt off over his head, ignoring the buttons that strained over his shoulders. If anything, at least she found him physically attractive. It made the whole ordeal easier.

Careful of her ankle, Keyain got onto the bed, muscular arms flanking her as he lowered himself with a kiss.

He grabbed the hem of her nightgown and tossed it to the floor.

To feel him so close, a familiar stranger, made her stomach churn.

And when his fingers rose up the inside of her thighs, she forced herself to still, to not pull away.

At least they were gentle, soft. Like the King’s hands on her ankle. Marietta jerked away from Keyain with that thought—at the heat that flared in her. Gods, why did she think of the King?

“Did I hurt you?” Keyain looked down at her with furrowed brows.

“No,” she said, pulling him back to her face. “Just tickled, that’s all.”

She brought his mouth to hers before he could answer. Keyain’s hands crept higher, brushing against the outside of her center. His mouth traveled from her lips to her neck. When he ventured lower, his teeth biting her breast, she moaned with an arch of her back.

Keyain moaned into her skin. “Can I go further?”

“Yes,” she said, breathless, as she shifted her hips with the movement of his hand. And when he entered her, she moaned again.

His mouth moved to her other breast, and he laughed while filling his mouth. He bit again and Marietta arched into him.

“Fuck,” she cried out, wanting more.

“Such a filthy mouth.”

Marietta paused, taken back at the exact words the King told her just earlier that day.

“Perhaps I should make my mouth just as dirty.” His kisses trailed down her stomach.

Deities damn her. Why did King Wyltam keep coming to mind? Sure, he had a handsome face and a wonderfully deep voice, but he was the enemy, wasn’t he?

Gods, so was Keyain.

“Mar,” he said, lifting his face from her and drawing her attention. “We can stop if you changed your mind.”

Perhaps she should. It was one thing to fuck Keyain, something she’s done numerous of times. It was another to think of a different person while with him. But she could block it out; she could go through with this. “Don’t stop,” she said, pushing his head lower.

His smile was sinister as he buried his face between her legs, his lips kissing against her with such fervor that she nearly melted then. With a flick of his teasing tongue, he put his whole mouth against her most sensitive spot, sucking.

Marietta’s thighs squeezed against his head as he continued, his fingers plunging in and out of her.

After all that time, he remembered exactly how she liked it.

Keyain withdrew his fingers, both hands pinning her legs to the bed.

Gods, he remembered everything, even as his grip tightened on her thighs, as his mouth explored, his tongue teasing against her.

She cried out, savoring the touch, so familiar to the last time they were intimate that it wasn’t hard to imagine it was the old Keyain, especially as she kept her eyes clenched shut.

His grip slipped from her thighs to her hips, pulling her closer to his face as her breaths quickened, her core tightening with the nearing release.

Keyain must have sensed it as well, for his fingers found their way back inside her.

The movement of his fingers and the stroke of his tongue built her tension, snapping it as Marietta crested.

Her center pooled from Keyain as she melted into his tongue, her limbs numbing with waves of pleasure.

“Fuck, Marietta,” he groaned, his fingers teasing against her.

“Now.” A simple demand from her. It was all she had to say for Keyain to reach for his pants, hastily undoing them and tossing them over the edge.

Careful of her ankle, he bent her legs, pushing them farther apart.

He rubbed the length of himself against her, his gaze locked on to between her legs with furrowed brows and parted lips.

Without warning, he plunged into Marietta.

She moaned from the pain—from the pleasure—mixed into one where she couldn’t tell where one started and the other ended.

Keyain’s hand landed on her center, rubbing as he thrust. Her core tightened again, feeling the tension rise within her with each thrust, with each swirl of his finger.

He murmured to Marietta, his voice deep and breathless, but the words were lost to her. No, she wasn’t thinking about Keyain with her eyes closed. As much as she resisted, she only heard King Wyltam’s deep voice. You are very fun to tease.

It was the King she imagined on top of her, pleasuring her. The King was the one moaning her name. And when she crested again, the tension ripping through her with such intensity that her vision went white behind her lids, she clamped her lips together so she wouldn’t call out King Wyltam’s name.

Keyain lowered himself to be flush with her, his hips not missing a beat. He moaned in her ear, calling out her name. Marietta’s nails dug into his back as he finished, thrusting deep inside.

Still slick with sweat, Keyain rolled over, laying on his back next to Marietta as he panted. Marietta lay next to him with her stare fixed on the canopy of the bed, still shocked at what had happened.

Gods, why did she think of the King? What in all the hells was wrong with her? Stupid, he was no better than Keyain. No—he was worse. King Wyltam had the power to create change and enabled Keyain’s actions.

“Are you alright?” Keyain’s hand found hers, pulling it to him for a kiss.

She shook her thoughts, rolling onto her side to face him. Gods, don’t say the King—anything but that. Think of the plan. “I wish you spent more time with me.” The lie came smoothly and through Keyain’s post-sex haze, he didn’t seem to notice.

“I wish for that, too.”

“Can you promise then?” She rubbed her thumb against his hand. “Promise you’ll spend more time with me?” More time to win him over, to distract him.

“I would do anything for you, Mar.” The sincerity in his gaze with his words made guilt sit in her stomach like a rock.

After readying for bed, Keyain wrapped his arms around Marietta, sleep finding him quickly.

She didn’t have such luck. Instead, her mind sifted through her troubling thoughts, of the King who had no business being stuck in her head.

Why did she think of King Wyltam? Was it that she thought him more attractive? Was it because he was kind to her?

And then she realized, for all that she despised the King for his action and inaction in Satiros, Marietta still didn’t hate him as much as she hated Keyain.