Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“You know Father holds no ill will for any of his lost lovers or our mothers. He always says he’s blessed to have us as a result of that attempted love.”
Lazaar had heard enough. His beloved’s daughters were getting upset, and he wanted them at ease and for them to know their father would never hurt or wish for love again because he had it now.
“I swear to each of you, in all the names of the gods, that the adoration and affection I already feel for your father are real and will never fade but only get stronger.” Lazaar blushed all over. “And he’s yet to lay with me.”
Elephaa reached down and grabbed him around his neck with her strong arm, hugging him so tight she damn near yanked him out of the tub.
“Praise the gods!” she hollered.
Lazaar continued to flush red clear down to his groin when he thought of being with another man—anyone—in that way.
Elephaa blinked her long blonde lashes. “I hear you are untouched and inexperienced in the ways of lovemaking.”
Lazaar wanted to melt into the bottom of the tub when every woman in the room turned to him with disbelief in their eyes.
Honesty would be the best policy if he wanted some advice because these people knew his beloved best.
“I’m naïve about everything, my lady. I’ve just discovered that there is a whole world outside of Chessuven. I was hidden there for almost one thousand years.”
“Gods,” she whispered. “Do not fret, prince. We can help you.”
Dorema, Zepharali’s eldest and a striking female with long braids, came forward with her hands clasped.
“We can show you ways to pleasure if you’d like?”
Once Lazaar was able to push down his humiliation, he murmured a soft, “Yes, please.”
He was willing to take the embarrassment of being taught to make love by his beloved’s daughters because he’d do anything for Zepharali.
He already adored him that much.
Dorema laid her pretty wife down on the plush beige rug and oh so gently climbed on top of her, gazing into her eyes, their love so very evident in each caress.
Oh gods.
Lazaar’s cock became rock-hard when he thought of writhing his body like that on top of his beloved.
He sank low in the tub until he was only peeking over the edge.
Lazaar
Lazaar stood outside Zepharali’s bedchamber doors, his heart pounding like a double-headed drum, his hands too damp to twist the knob.
Wet from nerves, not from the oils he’d been slathered in.
A second later, two identical, attractive men opened Zepharali’s doors, lust and charm oozing off them. They smelled of sex and faintly of his titan.
Lazaar hissed, showing his fangs before he had a chance to control it. The men jerked backward and into each other’s arms.
Lazaar slammed his hand over his mouth.
“I-I didn’t mean to do that.” He shook the rage of jealousy from his mind. “I apologize. I thought…”
Zepharali watched him from the other side of the large room, an expression of intrigue and perhaps joy on his handsome face.
Lazaar was put into a trance at the sight of the titan’s exposed chest and throat beneath his floor-length royal blue silk robe and loose trousers.
Unable to stand still another moment, Lazaar bypassed the two men, not sparing them another glance, and went in the direction his core pulled him.
Zepharali met him halfway and opened his arms.
He fell into the embrace and buried his nose in his throat. Lazaar’s moan was unabashed and salacious as he took a deep breath, wanting to lick and bite at the intoxicating scent of honey clinging to his skin.
Zepharali wrapped his arms around his back and pulled him so close Lazaar could feel his heart beating in the same cadence as his own.
Confident hands roamed up and down the black satiny robe Lazaar had been dressed in and through his long black hair, igniting sparks in every nerve.
His beloved dipped his head and buried his nose in it, releasing a rumbling purr that went straight to Lazaar’s cock.
“Mmm, Sophir did your hair, didn’t she?”
Lazaar blinked the haze from his mind and tried to focus on the question and the name of one of his many attendants…but he couldn’t.
“You look exquisite.” Zepharali rubbed his stubbled cheek over Lazaar’s temple and down his face, stopping with his lips so close to his own.
He wanted to dive on him. He wanted to sink his fangs into the vein throbbing on the right side of his beloved’s neck and drink until he was drunk.
Lazaar moaned in absolute agony as his hunger skyrocketed and threatened to consume him.
“My lord, please,” he begged.
He was embarrassed by his stone-hard cock digging into Zepharali’s lower thigh but too ravenous to care.
“You will never have to plead for anything, my dark prince.” Zepharali cupped the back of his head and guided Lazaar’s mouth to his throat. “Satisfy your thirst.”