Beth Kery

Despite her anxiety, Donna couldn’t help but be aroused by the sight of Dristan’s nude body in profile. The sight of his glistening muscles and the long, flaccid penis that hung between his strong thighs left her breathless with longing.

She couldn’t understand why Cheveyo made him strip in front of him and the Sidhe woman or why he inspected Dristan so coldly after he’d complied. It pained her to see one of her lovers treat the other so callously. Dristan didn’t speak or move under Cheveyo’s merciless inspection, however. He remained every inch the proud king.

“Turn around,” Cheveyo finally said so softly that Donna almost didn’t hear him. Dristan complied silently.

Cheveyo stood. He had already removed his sword earlier and Donna saw it had been laid carefully on a gilded table behind his throne. He touched his fingers to his shoulders and his clinging outer armor slithered to the floor sinuously. He removed the cerulean blue tunic beneath it with one graceful movement of flexing muscle. His dusky skin gleamed in the soft, golden light of the room. The dried blood on his upper arm only added to the aura of a fierce, uncompromising warrior.

Donna bit her lip to stifle a moan of longing. She knew she would never cease to be thrilled at the sight of Cheveyo’s stark features and startling black-eyed gaze. She watched, mesmerized, as Cheveyo stepped down off the dais and began to circle the unmoving Dristan slowly. Something about his almost predatory stance and Dristan’s tense silence made Donna so anxious that she drew blood on her lip with her front teeth.

Cheveyo moved with the speed of a striking panther, grabbing Dristan’s waist and planting his head against his side, forcing him down to the floor with his weight. Donna gave a small cry of shock. The raven-haired woman’s head started around at the sound and Donna flattened her back against the marble pillar.

After a moment however, Donna couldn’t stand the suspense. The sounds of a struggle made her desperate to know what was happening between Dristan and Cheveyo. She peered around the pillar, her eyes going wide.

They grappled on the floor in a fierce battle of flexing limbs and hard male flesh. How long the struggle went on, Donna could never say for sure, but it felt like an anxious eternity.

At first Cheveyo worked his opponent to the floor, but Dristan broke his hold after a supreme effort and pinned Cheveyo. The tension that seemed to roll off their bulging muscles in the static struggle that followed felt almost tangible to Donna it was so fierce.

The two men locked gazes.

With a bloody-curdling shout Cheveyo pushed Dristan off him and rolled the golden-haired king beneath him. He caught Dristan’s wrist as he attempted to position it to his advantage and pinned it to the floor over his head. Dristan’s other hand rose, this time in a fist. But Cheveyo caught that as well and struck it back on the marble floor with a blow so hard that Donna flinched.

Cheveyo held Dristan immobilized, buttocks bunching tightly in his leather breeches, strong thighs spread, flexing and pressing his prey to the floor.

Her heart began thrumming loudly in her ears when she looked between both male’s spread legs and saw Dristan’s heavy testicles and the root of his cock before it disappeared beneath Cheveyo’s pelvis. He was fully erect. Their penises must be pressing tightly together, separated only by Cheveyo’s leather pants.

As she watched, Cheveyo ground down his hips. Donna jumped when Cheveyo spoke harshly. “Surrender to the Slidereal.”
She was so caught up in the electricity of the moment and the mounting sexual tension between the two males that she hardly noticed she understood Cheveyo although he spoke in a foreign tongue.

Dristan didn’t reply but his muscles tightened again in struggle. He attempted to throw Cheveyo off him but Cheveyo restrained him again after a moment of instability. Donna glimpsed the scowl on Cheveyo’s stark features as he pressed Dristan’s hands to the floor with one forearm. He grabbed the other man’s short blond hair and shook his head fiercely. “Surrender. There is no shame in it,” Cheveyo said, his tone so tender and at odds with his ruthless actions that it shocked and thrilled Donna to hear it.

“You will find how easy it is to surrender come the winter solstice,” Dristan grated out through clenched teeth.

“So be it.” Their mouths were parted by less than an inch. “But that is not now. Now you will surrender.” Dristan just glared furiously as Cheveyo removed his forearm from Dristan’s wrists. “Approach the throne.”