Had he known that the kiss might have signified something else to the woman, perhaps he wouldn't have done it. But to Sirius, the contact was little less than what they had already toyed at - He was, after all, a beast most cunningly disguised as a gentleman. And while he might have been paying for her dues, for the sweet ripeness of her young female body, it was in his nature to seek her pleasure also. Everything was competitive; While he could have ordered her to do such a thing, it was far sweeter to allow her to come upon the idea herself. The idea of rape had never appealed to the man, for he forced his dominance and power in other ways.
Her reply was direct, subservient, allowing the king to relish in his dominance. She was willing to do what pleased him, eager for it, so the peacock thought. But thoughts did not linger long - It was only a moment before her tongue returned to the burning need in his loins, taking the entirety of him into her wet mouth. The monarch snarled again, a dark and sinful sound as the hand on her head pushed only slightly, unable to refrain from the slight pressure that showed he wanted her to take it all.
Her slight noises, and the bobbing of her head, were enough to have the claws of his other hand scraping deeper, more permanent grooves into the stone arm of his throne. His eyes closed briefly, the snarling forgone for a groan, wicked yellow teeth snapping once as her tongue did something wonderful. All too soon, her ministrations stopped; Instantaneously, Sirius removed his hand from her head, allowing it to return to a tight grip on the other arm-rest. Laced as he was with terrible power, both physical and mental, he was not of a mind to force her to continue. However, his face was unable to hide the clean disappointment that shadowed it.
The disappointment did not last long. Narrowed pupils watched as she rose and took a few step backward, before dipping to her nimble fingers as they shimmied the skirt down low on her hips, finally allowing it to slide free to the floor, where the rouge material bunched about her ankles. Naked but for the blood-red ruby he had given her, Isabella was a splendid sight. Her form was graceful, exotic, curvy in just the right places.
The king rose slowly, the scars on his chest moving as though they were alive with each breath he took. Slower still, he closed the gap between them, his eyes feasting themselves on her bareness. With easy, silent steps, the man moved about her in a circle, examining her purely female form from each angle. Finally, his hands reached out to touch; Wicked claws lightly traced along the sweet sweep of her waist, the swell of her hip, until he had moved around to stand before her once more. His erection was full and proud with desire. Both hands moved up along her ribcage, gently, one moving to cup one pert breast as the other slid around to the small of her back.
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