The Beginning of Everything Read online Kristen Ashley (The Rising #1)

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Rising Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
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“His counsellor thinks Mar-el is not of great import, as he wouldn’t, since he feels they can obtain an everlasting ruby mine and saffron fields. Though I’m uncertain who he intends to sell those rubies and saffron to, as, if we wrested that land back, the Firenz would embargo them, the Airenzian probably would too, and the Nadirii don’t put much consequence in jewels. Therefore, we’d need to ship them to The Mystics or Northlands, and to do that, we’d need permission to sail through.”

“This is very short-sighted,” I muttered crossly, my gaze dropping to our joined hands.

Just in time for True to stop fiddling with mine and squeeze it.

“Ah, beautiful Farah. In our short acquaintance, I admit, I’ve wondered often if your beauty makes you beautiful, or if it is your loyalty that shines through and gives you beauty.”

I stared at him, unable to breathe, for that was the highest compliment anyone could pay me.

“Perhaps both,” he whispered, lifting my hand to his lips and touching them to it but briefly before he gave it another squeeze, let it go and rose from the seat. “Shall I walk you to your rooms?”

Apparently, our brief interlude was done.

This saddened me.

“I’m going to sit for a bit.”

He bent, touching his lips to my forehead before he straightened.

“Sleep well, sweets.”

“I bid the same to you, my True.”

He granted me the gift of his smile in the moonlight.

Then I watched him walk away.

I looked out the window.

Tomorrow, I would see, and meet, this Elena.

Until then, I would hope that I would find it in me to like her for she was True’s and I highly suspected he was a man who would not let go of anyone who had a place in his heart.

Even if what they’d wished to share, heart to heart—what I was coming to wish to share with him—would never be granted.

For any of us.

14

The Plot

G’Drey

Marital Bedchamber, Manor of Captain of the Trusted, Fire City

FIRENZE

G’Drey really did not wish to climax.

He really did not.

Not like this.

But he would, and he had, not frequently, but regularly, after the warrior had found him again in the city.

This time being the most humiliating.

And after it, he knew, he would vow never to come back.

But he also knew, when the crimson envelope summoning him arrived—becoming obsessed with these encounters like a man addicted to the effects of the ashesh—to get his experience, Drey would steal into the night from the Go’Doan temple and find their home. He would make his way to the back door, which would be opened for him, and eventually, after they used him as they would, he would climax…

Humiliatingly.

This time, his chin to the bed, his wrists tied to his knees, his knees staked open, tied to a brace, a leather strap along his forehead bending his head back as it was tied to the baton that was working through his arse, his aching, rock-hard member being sucked on by a woman.

All this while he was forced to watch before him, his noises muffled by a scarf shoved in his mouth—one of hers—as the warrior pounded between her legs, their lips hardly ever disconnecting, his grunts muted by her mouth, her whimpers the same by his.

And Drey watched the warrior’s arse work.

He also watched his thick, veined, slick, rigid shaft plunging and retreating.

And he’d do anything for the opportunity to watch all of that.

Or the times the warrior would use that shaft on Drey.

Or the times he’d take a paddle to Drey after he’d filled him with something.

Or any of the attention the warrior gave to him.

Eventually, and simultaneously, Drey saw their heads snap back as the warrior roared his orgasm and his wife cried out hers, her hands grasping his muscled flesh, her nails digging, her long legs wrapped around the warrior’s rutting hips.

G’Drey wanted to find it disgusting.

But the savage pounding in his arse and the talented suckling at his shaft, he could do nothing but buck into that mouth.

He lost the mouth and endured the mortification of being watched by the warrior and his wife as he was milked with her hand into some toweling over the bed under him while she used his arse brutally and he jerked and spasmed against his bounds as he poured his seed with muffled moans onto the bed.

“Take care of our girl, my darling,” the warrior’s woman bid and then it happened.

The female behind him was moved in front of him, her cunt shoved in his face, and the warrior fingered her to climax while his woman fondled his chest and he fondled their friend.

There was a good deal of kissing (this only on the mouth between the warrior and his wife, Drey had learned that was a boundary that was never crossed no matter who joined their play) and stroking and cuddling between the three of them that Drey was forced to watch before the women slowly exited the bed after lingering attention given to the warrior.



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