Page 142 of Jace
“Like a feast of hard, beastly flesh,” Vale agrees.
“Like a buffet of man-meat and I’m starving,” Zar concurs.
“Dear lord, I’m so thirsty for man juice.” Wren almost pouts.
So Sire, lying to my right, assures her, “Ask, and ye shall receive, Angel.”
“We want to receive Eiffel towers.” Delphine purrs.
Fun. This is sounding way too fun and feral for the queens.
I lift my head to find them prowling like a hungry pride of lionesses, guarding Vivian on the ladder. They’ll catch her if she falls and devour us if we stay here much longer.
Alena chews her lip, visually groping Loch’s size. “Vivian, how are they looking from up there?”
My queen’s rose-tipped nipples under her white slip tell me she’s the hungriest of them all.
CHAPTER FORTY
VIVIAN
Good god,staring at these seven hulking men through my viewfinder gives a whole new meaning to the term “manual focus.”
Because I almost can’t.
If it’s not Jace’s heated gaze aimed at my lens, it’s his hard body’s masculine perfection in white briefs, making my clit tingle. Add him to the army of six massive half-naked men, reclining around his raging maleness with their hungry stares aimed at me, too, and my womanhood vibrates like a tuning fork.
Sex dominates my senses.
They’re posed in a circle of virile kings—Axel, Nick, Grant, Nash, Sire, and Loch—with Jace at its center.
This is art.
The ultimate arousal.
The archetype of alphas convened.
Jace brought in two side soft lights to illuminate their hard muscles, contrasting rising contours with dark shadows made even more dramatic by the imposing ink on their honed bodies. Their bulging manliness stirs under thin white cotton at this erotic exposure.
Confirmation that size is genetic.
And breathtaking.
But what makes me breathless, clicking my shutter, is the way the men lie naturally together. How they’re able to submit their dominating bodies to this because they’re bound as brothers and beasts.
At any moment, those bodies could rise, flexing and ferocious and ready to kill.
But like this…
They’re even more deadly.
Because they’re doing this for me.
For their queens.
Jace pierces my lens with his loving stare. It’s making his exquisite cock swell even harder under his briefs.
Who’s more enthralled by this moment? The photographer in me, taking her shot, or the woman who wants to fall into his image forever?
