EXTRACT FOR
Chosen By The Prince
(Alana Church)

Her voice, when she spoke, was deeper than usual, with a slow, rolling cadence which was older than the hills.



"The Land speaks through me. What is the desire of the Lord who comes before me?"



Jothri stood. In the low light, wrought of candlelight and the low glow of the fire on the hearth, his body was magnificent, golden red, like bloodstained gold.



"I am the Lord." His voice was deep and steady. "I come to claim the Land for my own. Mine and the heirs of my body."



A wave of displeasure rolled through her. This one is arrogant. He will need to be taught a lesson.



She raised her chin haughtily. "I am the Land. I submit to no Lord who does not kneel before me."



As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Jothri bowed his head, kneeling before her. "I am the Lord. I come seeking the Land's blessing."



His position put his head nearly at the level of her groin, and Alessandra stifled a wild impulse to pull up the hem of her robe and demand that he kiss her throbbing womanhood until she climaxed.



"Disrobe, my Lord," she murmured. "Let us see what you have to offer the Land."



His hands flew to the waist of his robe, and she knew he was aroused as she. It took only moments before he was nude, standing before her proudly, his wonderful cock jutting up from his loins like a spear.



Her legs grew weak, and before she knew what she was doing, she had fallen to her knees. She breathed on his rigid staff, her eyes drinking in the sight of his manhood as one hand cupped the sac of his scrotum. His balls felt swollen and heavy in her fingers, and she palmed them gently.



"So lovely," she whispered, bending forward. It was impossible to resist. The tip of her tongue flickered out, laying a darting kiss on his shaft. She opened her mouth, running her tongue up and down his straining length, from the crinkled skin of his scrotum, around the tight wrapping of his foreskin, and then to the dark red tip of his penis, topped with a pearly droplet.



She murmured, voiceless, deep in her throat, her body raging for release, as she licked it away. His taste burst on her tongue in an explosion of pleasure, and before she knew it, she had taken his rod deep inside her mouth, her head bobbing frantically, desperate to have him spill in her mouth.



Stupid, wretched slattern! The voice was a whip-crack in her mind. Will you ruin everything? Do you want him to spill his seed uselessly in your mouth or on your body? Your child will be queen. But only if you don't make a bloody stupid balls of it. Stop it. Stop it now!



Although it was close to agony, somehow, shaking, she pulled away, raising her head and letting him escape her mouth. Above her, Jothri was shaking like a fly-stung horse, the muscles of his stomach jumping and trembling spasmodically.



"Oh no," she teased, hiding how close she had come to losing control. "You will not spill your seed on barren ground, my Lord." She undid the knot of her robe and let it fall to the floor, at last leaving her naked with her lifemate. Teasingly, she ran a finger up the hot wet lips of her sex. "Only within my fertile valley will it take root.



"Are you the plowman I have been looking for?"