Conquering the Queen by Ava Sinclair Read Free Book Online Page A

been marched from the camp where she’d been taken back to the castle. He also knew that the larders were nearly empty when the castle was stormed. Avin had suffered along with her people. But he had to put compassion out of his mind. Now, he had to focus on her training. Reaching into the trunk, he picked up a riding crop lying atop a folded velvet riding habit. When he turned to walk back toward his former lover, he could see the defiance in her eyes edged with wariness.
    “So now what will you do?” she asked. “Beat me across the breasts as you did across my bottom? Mark my legs and belly?”
    “No.” He shook his head, tapping the leather tab on the edge of the crop against his broad, callused palm. “Or have you forgotten the other paths to submission?”
    She was breathing heavily, no longer able to hide her nervousness. Her breasts, still full and firm, heaved.
    Xander knew she was still expecting him to hit her. Instead, he stepped forward and lowered his head to capture the tip of her right breast in his mouth. Ignoring her curses, he drew on the rosy peak of a nipple until it hardened under his tongue. Then he worried that tight little nub with his teeth.
    He was holding her still with his hands on her long waist. The cool skin was flushing with warmth now, her breath coming in pants. The string of curses was now interrupted by the unbidden moan tinged with frustration.
    Xander lifted his head.
    “Still sweet as summer fruit,” he said, looking into her eyes. They were glittering with angry tears.
    “I hate you.”
    “I know.”
    He stepped back. “Open your legs.”
    “I’ll die before I open my legs to you.”
    “No, you won’t.” He placed the tab of the crop atop her Venus mound, rubbing it back and forth. Then he flicked the tip to the right, stinging her upper thigh. When Avin automatically jerked her leg in response, he flicked the crop again, catching the inside of the same thigh.
    “Open your legs.”
    “No!” She screamed the word, straining outward from the bonds.
    Xander remained completely calm as he flicked her thighs. Each time she opened her legs a bit, attempts to close them were met with several flicks of the crop. The tab of the crop was leaving tiny welts on her legs, like dozens of little stings. The king was methodical in his delivery, and inch by inch Avin parted her legs, conditioned by his persistent discipline to keep them apart.
    “That’s my good lass,” he said, and the comment wrung a sob from his captive as Xander found himself repeating the words he’d so often used when she’d submitted to him before their separation.
    For the briefest moment, he was seized by the desire to undo the bonds, to draw her into his arms. But he could not show mercy. Not yet. He looked down, realizing her tears were as much from shame as sadness. The tiny welts on the insides of her thighs were slick with arousal.
    Xander stepped back, pressing the tip of the crop against the top of her slit, pushing up until the pressure exposed her clit. It had already emerged from its fleshy hood, the pink pearl glistening with her need.
    “Who does this belong to?” he asked, pushing against the crop.
    “Leave me,” she said, refusing to answer the question.
    He asked it again. When she did not answer, he dropped to his knees, roughly grabbing her sore thighs and pushing them apart. Xander buried his face between them, lapping upwards through her slit until he reached the throbbing little nub, which he flicked with the tip of his tongue.
    He could feel her body tightening, could feel her orgasm building. He caught the little nub, suckling gently. She was the bow and he the archer, but just before he released her to fly, he stopped, leaving her hanging on the edge of release.
    She screamed out her frustration, stomped her feet, cursed him through tears of humiliation and want. Xander raised himself until he was towering over her.
    “I will not reward disobedience,” he said. He dropped his