Masked Prince (Fated Royals 2)

I swallowed hard. I had a thousand questions for him.

Who am I to you? How do you know me? Why did you choose me for all of this?

But I was speechless with wanting, tongue-tied with desire. All of this was so new to me. I knew hardly anything about sex beyond what I’d seen on the farm.

I had so many questions, I was so unsure, but something in Randal’s eyes made it very clear that now wasn’t the time for me to ask. It was also clear to me that this wasn’t going to be some hurried roll in the hay, like village boys had with my friends.

This was artful.

Strategic.

Randal had a plan for me. And I was his to be taken.

He spread my legs on the edge of the table, buckling each of my calves to the table legs, careful to adjust the straps so that it didn’t pinch my bruised ankle. I sucked in a quick breath of surprise at the coldness of the metal buckles on my skin. It aroused me, that cold metal, so different from the warmth of his rough fingertips. He was close enough to me that I could smell his musky, salty, manly scent—it triggered something inside me, some kind of animal need.

Inhaling long and slow, I shifted my hips and eased into my restraints. Once my knees were spread wide and my sex was wide open for him to see, he stood back and gave me an approving stare. “Fuck, yeah, Iris. I’ve imagined you like this so many times.”

He stood in front of me staring, and I watched his cock grow hard in his pants.

“I’ll do anything you ask. Anything. I just want you inside me.”

Now he scoffed, looking at me like I was such a silly naïve little thing. He had an edge of anger in his eyes, in the set of his teeth. God, how I was drawn to that anger. My father’s anger had been my biggest fear; the most forbidden and dangerous of all emotions. This made my father look like a joke. I wanted to feel it, I wanted to play with it. I wanted to go there and come back again. What I wouldn’t give to play with that fire, to learn to be strong in the face of my fear.

“Shut up and listen, Iris,” Randal said, growing dark in his eyes, “There are rules you need to obey. You understand that?”

“Yes,” I said, but then, remembering how he had corrected me before, I said, “Yes, Sir.”

He liked that. I could see it. He smiled a little, smug and satisfied. Cocky. And seeing him pleased with me sent goosebumps through my body. I would do anything to see him happy like that. Anything.

Randal tipped my chin up with the V of his thumb and forefinger, so my throat stretched, and my neck arched back slightly.

“Here’s how it’s going to fucking go.” He touched my cheek with the pad of his thumb. His eyes were dark now. That crystal turquoise was replaced with something sinister and difficult to read. “You are here for my pleasure. Mine alone,” he growled. “I will use you; I will fuck you; I will keep you safe.”

I swallowed hard. “And what do I need to do in return?”

He placed his huge hand on my thigh, his thumb just inches from my opening. But not touching me there. Inches had never felt so far away.

“In return, you give me yourself.” He squeezed harder, hard enough to make it hurt. “You speak when spoken to. You ask permission to cum. You exist on my terms. You give me all of you. You deny me nothing. Ever,” he ground out from between gritted teeth.

His anger and pain were so apparent that it made my heart ache. He must have been through so much to make him this hard, and I wanted to be able to be tender in return. Even just for a second.

I wanted to touch him. I needed to touch him.

Though my hands were restrained, I clenched my fist, wishing so much that I could run my fingertips down the ridges of his abs, the valley between his pecs, the texture of his scars.

The clatter of my chain angered him. He narrowed his eyes at my hand, the muscles in his jaw throbbing, until I stopped my fussing. Calm, girl. Be calm.

Whatever was going to happen next wasn’t up to me. The sooner I accepted that, the better. Tenderness and touch would have to wait. I raised my eyes to him, finally, and met his gaze.

He didn’t have to explain to me what just happened. I was in his territory now. And I would play by his rules.

“I’m sorry,” I said, barely a whisper.

No response. Never breaking my stare, he crouched before me, so that his face was level with my sex. I could feel his heated breath making me tense and shiver at the same time.