Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Troy

She was seated with her legs crossed in the bed, her hair piled in that messy bun she always wore. She had Romero’s map in her hands, pointing to one of the faded pictures on the margin. There was a look of sheer excitement in her eyes, something almost rabid and unrecognizable.

“A gem? I shrugged out of my old leather jacket, tossing it into the corner of the room as I bent to untie the laces of my boots.

“Yes, I’m sure of it.”

I looked up, arching my brow, “What makes you think that?”

*This symbol, it’s repeated several times, see? I didn’t even notice it before but I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it in the Temple of the White Queens in Winter Forest. It’s on the statue behind the altar. I used to run my fingers across it.”

“What’s its significance?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t really ever pay attention when my mom was praying.” she frowned, watching me with a careful eye. “Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“Why do you all wear those, well, poofy shirts?”

“This? I looked down, spreading my arms wide so the loose, think fabric unfurled over my arms.

“Yeah. I mean, they’re so—50…”

“Old fashioned?” I laughed, reaching up to untie the strings that held the shirt closed over my chest. “They serve a purpose, actually.”

“And what purpose is that? To make sure you look the part while you’re playing pirate?”

glared at her, then pulled the shirt over my head, tossing it on the bed. She blushed, blinking like an innocent schoolgirl as she looked away from my bare chest.

“Say you get tangled in the rat tails while climbing up to mend the sails, or thrown overboard,” I said, enjoying the progression of the pinkness in her cheeks as I unbuttoned my pants. “Heavy fabric weighs you down in water, and a high neckline can choke you if you’re snagged on something at the right angle. You need something you can slip out of easily. I began to pull my pants over my thighs, slowing as I caught her gaze. She swallowed, looking away again and pretending to be invested in the paneling of the wall. “Plus, it’s hotter than Hell on the deck. The loose fit allows air to brush against your skin, keeping you cool.”

“Oh,” she said quietly, not daring to look at me. I loved this game.

*That’s why we wear these old-fashioned shirts. Not because we want to look like pirates, but because we already are pirates.”

She stopped, biting her lip. Obviously,

She looked at me then, smirking. “My dad would lose his mind if he knew I were sharing a bed with she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“We’re not technically sharing a bed, are we? I’ve been sleeping on the floor like a dog.”

“Because you are one,” she said pointedly, her chin lifted towards the ceiling.

“Anyway, about the map?”

She looked me up and down as I sat next to her in the bed, resting my head against the wall and stretching hugely, my inner arm grazing her shoulders.

“Are you going to put clothes on?” she asked, tilting her head towards my underwear, which was all I was wearing.

“Too humid, storms coming. Plus, you’re supposed to be leaving for work soon. I’ll be able to sleep naked in my bed if I want to.”

faded script. “There used to be something in the center of the statue of the altar in Winter Forest. I could feel where it had

is missing from the altar is what Damian is after? I was

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An Educated

over the map. I reached out, touching her neck with my fingertips, watching as the fine, white hair rose against her skin.

looked over her shoulder, the light catching on her strawberry blonde brows as her glacier blue eyes settled on mine. “I know,” she said, her voice trembling

falling onto the edge of the bed and then sliding to the floor. She was looking up at me, startled, but there was a warmth behind her eyes, something I hadn’t seen since I climbed up to her perch in

my face hovering just above her own. She was

want you,” I breathed, my lips brushing hers as I spoke, “and I don’t care if you hate me forever. It doesn’t change

hate you,” she replied, her eyes focused on mine. I had her pinned against the mattress by her wrists, her hands open,

the way I had wanted to for days. She opened her mouth to mine, her teeth biting down on my

stomach, and touched her skin, my hand traveling up to cup her full breast. She sucked in her

she squeaked; her mouth

you can get

I bent my head, kissing her on the neck as I ran my fingers up her arms that were

biting gently as her back arched and she

“Am I hurting you?”

she said, a little breathless,

***

Maeve

limp. I couldn’t have moved, even if I wanted to. Whatever he was doing with his

into my underwear, pulling them to the side. I exhaled as he touched me, his thumb pressing against my clit and

as his fingers slipped inside of me, pushing me even closer

edge of the bed, releasing his hold on me to grip the quilt in

look of hunger flashed in his eyes, a challenge. He arched his brow, then grabbed

yelped in surprise, locking my legs around him but he pushed them far apart,

bent down, kissing my stomach, then lower, and lower, until his mouth met the tender, aching place

I breathed, going limp once more. I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair, tangling it between my fingers as my hips arched to him, desperation pulsating through my

exclaimed, “Where–where did you learn

a laugh trembling through his chest. He rested his chin on my thigh,

answer that right

my inner thigh, the sensation sending a

curve of my hips and then my breasts, squeezing them until I cried

going to be

me over, so I was on top of him, straddling him as he laid against

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An

exposed to his gaze. I tried to cover my breasts with my hands, but

the look of anticipation etched into his face. But I sat there, dumbly, unsure of what I was supposed to do next. What had Cleo said to me weeks ago? To tell him what I liked? But he was expecting something from me in this position. I was on top. I was the one

do I do

so I can get

my knees while he awkwardly fumbled

nudged one of my legs by accident, my knee slipping over the side of the bed, but he caught me before I tumbled over,

blush creeping over my chest and cheeks. I hated not being good at something. I hated not being the best. But he was the only man I had ever had sex with, and we had only done that twice. Well, the first time hardly counted, in my opinion,

enough to know exactly what

feel him beneath me, his cock pressing against the wet folds between my legs. I moved forward involuntarily, seeking my own pleasure without thinking about it. He moaned; his eyes only opened to slits as he