Strife & Valor: Book II of The Rorke Burningsoul Saga by Regina Watts (red queen ebook .TXT) 📕

seems to me like you didn’t actually enjoy being the Materna anymore, and that you’re just having fun running around with your boytoy…some of us had actual lives we’d like to get back to somebloom.”

With a chuckle, Valeria enfolded me in her arms and slowly ground her body in my lap. I exhaled while, smiling into my face, she suggested, “And you will, of course, return to the Nightlands when it’s the right time…but why not take advantage of the opportunities provided? These gifts from our gods…one must seize pleasures while they remain available.”

I could not help my sigh. My hand slid up beneath the fabric of her dress and over the smooth, supple flesh of her rump. Tilting her head, Valeria kissed the corner of my mouth, the burning flesh of my cheek, the curve of my ear. The heat of her body inflamed mine and, while Indra and Odile looked hungrily on, Valeria rocked to pleasure herself upon the aching protuberance yearning for freedom in my lap.

“That might be wise…you two, come here—surely you’ll miss me when I’m gone…”

Though she snorted in a jovial fashion, Odile nonetheless strode forward and bent over me and Valeria. Her lips brushed mine and she said, “I don’t know about missing you, Paladin…but I’ll pray for your safe return.”

I sighed with pleasure as Valeria pushed my tunic up and away. By the time my vision was once more unobstructed, smiling Indra had appeared to my right. She took her turn for a kiss while the Materna and Odile, each with their hands roving over me, glanced over at Branwen.

“Well?” Odile arched a brow expectantly. “You in, or out?”

For just a flash I wasn’t sure if I even wanted her involved—not that the options of cuckolding or rejecting her were any better—but the bite of her supple pink underlip and the desire filling her eyes overwhelmed me. How dear she was to me! Amazing to think that Branwen was, strictly speaking, at least twice my age: she was selfish in the way children were selfish. Thoughtlessly, without malice. Somehow this notion made me pity her, and while she vacillated between the scene unfurling and the door to the room, I extended my hand.

“Come, Branwen…for all we know, this will be the last time I’ll be able to hold you before a wicked faerie queen whisks me off to another world.”

Savagely rolling her eyes, Branwen kicked off her boots and climbed upon the small bed with us. Her lips struggled against a smirk until they drooped over me. Then, they parted for a kiss.

I obliged with joy, reaching up to caress her face and the long blond locks that tumbled around me when Valeria let down Branwen’s elegant mane. Soon she moaned softly against my mouth, her pleasure produced not just by our kiss: Odile and Indra lifted hands from me to caress her, and a look of the most delicious embarrassment crossed her reddening face.

She was only able to look reluctant for a few seconds. While the durrow undressed Branwen amid sensual caresses, Odile caught the point of her chin and drew her close for a consuming kiss. I watched with unabashed satisfaction, knowing my observation heightened her embarrassment and subsequently her pleasure. When she glimpsed me in the middle of turning to kiss Indra, it were as though she checked to make sure I still watched. The thought of such a thing made me all the more hungry for her and the other women around me—for Valeria in my lap, who rose only to help me remove my boots and breeches before sliding out of her own clothes. The sumptuous globes of her dark breasts, already struggling to be contained in Lively’s old dress, burst from their confines. Her nipples were beaded with excitement, and while her eyes flickered often to the scene with Branwen behind me, she climbed upon my lap and let the soft flesh of her sex brush my exposed nerves.

How wet she was! Valeria’s performative nature thrilled me as much as her generous heart. She pushed me down gently upon the bed, that treasure at the apex of her thighs poised to tease the organ of my lust while together we watched as Branwen was pleasured by the rogues.

Odile, by kisses and caresses, guided Branwen down upon the pillows and with Indra’s help divested the high elf of her underthings. When naked, Branwen gasped and attempted to lay hands between all our hungry eyes and the rosy tips of her breasts or the patch of fuzz crowning the cleft between her legs. She did not try very hard to keep them there and in fact seemed thrilled when Odile and Indra each caught a hand and exposed her to our eyes. Indra, squeezing between her pale legs, sighed with pleasure up at her friend.

“Oh, Odile! She’s dripping. Look”—the younger durrow spread Branwen’s labia for her friend—“she loves to be watched almost as much as the Materna!”

“I’d think a thing like that to be impossible,” commented Odile, reaching down with her free hand and experimentally tickling her fingers along the displayed flower of bright pink petals and shimmering dew. The durrow’s eyes widened and she laughed, saying, “Why! Maybe you’re right, Indra.”

“Please,” whimpered Branwen, “please, oh, it’s so embarrassing—”

“But you like being embarrassed, don’t you…” Chuckling evilly, Odile slowly worked Branwen’s clitoris beneath the tip of her finger. The high elf moaned to be so indulged. “Sure you do…you want to be used by all of us. Watched by Rorke as we get you nice and excited for him.”

Gasping, moaning, Branwen made a feeble protest while Odile slipped a pair of fingers slowly into the hot heart of her femininity. While the high elf’s bare toes curled with delight, one foot twisted out toward me. I caught it in my hand and kissed the delicate arch, yielding a sharper moan of surprise from her as I caressed my way down to her toes. Valeria, meanwhile, worked her wet vulva