Desperate need simmers in her irises when she suddenly pulls back far enough to speak around the veins throbbing up Dair’s length. “Please, my lord,” she pants, glancing at Asher’s groin. “Please.” Well, fuck. What did I say about insulting a queen on her throne? Asher’s ragged groan confirms the prince is down for anything his princess desires. And if she wants to watch one of her alphas jack another off? It’s a good thing I’m so coordinated.
