That Prince Is A Girl The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate by Kiss Leilani

Captive Slave 87

hapter 87

AEKEIR

Ackeira stirred from her slumber, a weight pressing upon her. Even before opening her eyes, she knew Grand Lord Vladya had joined her. Her body tingled with warmth, her body becoming aroused, even as dread filled her. Swallowing nervously, she looked up at him. "Aekeira," he uttered in a guttural groan. He appeared livid, though that was nothing new. But this time, he looked... tired too. Not physically exhausted, but mentally burdened. Ackeira struggled to find the right words to describe it, but tiredness seemed to fit.

"Your Highness," she whispered. Now in close proximity to him. Ackeira forced herself to look beyond the fear that always clouded her perception of this male and truly observe him, Merilyn's words echoing in her mind.

Knowing what he had endured helped Ackelra see him as more than just her captor, slave master. More than just a heartless grand lord, and tormentor. She saw him as any male. As flesh and blood

She wanted to hug him. Even if he would likely strangle her for it, Aekeira still wanted to hug him anyway. This must be what people mean when they say one was playing with scorching fire. "Do not look at me like that," he growled, his voice sharp.

"Like what?"

Like he seemed to search for the words but gave up. "Just don't look at mese that

Like I want to embrace you and ease your pain? Ackcira had always been compassionate. It was her and her sister's strength as well as their doom.

Ever since she had learned about his struggles, she had thought about him more times than she cared to admit. Living a long life was one thing, but living it in misery was something else entirely.

He leaned down and pressed his nose against her neck, inhaling deeply. A rumbling growl escaped him, sending shivers down Ackeira's spine.

"You smell so good," he grumbled. "You should not smell like this No one has the right to smell like this."

Aekeira opened her mouth to speak

"Don't his voice muffled against her neck. "Do not talk." Pulling back, he rose above her and undressed.

In quick; jerky movements, he pulled Ackeira's nightdress over her head. His claws slipped out, slashing the fabric, leaving her nude before him. His eyes devoured her naked form. Aekeira let out a shameful whimper, aware of what he saw. She was so drenched she could feel her own pool of moisture.

"Whore," he uttered, his voice low and deep. Devoid of the usual aggression. "Sweet, little whore.

more. Her head rolled to

thighs, spreading them wide. His manhood probed her entrance, once, twice. and then, it was

usual pain was there, but

covered hers completely, his hands encircling her throat. He withdrew and thrust back in, again and

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Sat, Dec 28

Chapter 87

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he had been in the past, and Ackeira couldn't fathom why. She didn't dwell on it. Her body felt full and strange. A sigh escaped

wrecked, his grip tightening around her throat. "Why do you feel so damn good? I could stay inside

of air was doing something to her, heightening the strange pleasure she was already

his body on top of hers. The intoxicating pleasure coursing through her. It was there, just below

Vladya positioned it above her head, angling her hips before plunging deep

before, each stroke sending shards of pain through her body. The pleasurable feeling slowly dissipated, replaced by

writhing in discomfort. But there was no escape. The sensations washed over her

powerful thrust, he bumped against her cervix, prodding

position allowed for direct contact, and his phallus relentlessly sur mouth of her womb. It was

pain to sizzle through

her, repeatedly

GRAND LORD VLADYA

sound of a girl screaming, but

him, unlike anything he had ever felt

need to enter the deepest part of her, meant for him. Her most sacred place. Vladya had never experienced anything quite

he recognized a lost

Urekai instincts had mistaken Ackeira for a syren. Capable of full heat. Capable of opening to accommodate his organ in her

through Vladya. Why would his female deny him this way? Why would she

spilled from him in rage, his movements erratic, his

the night, high-pitched