Masked Prince (Fated Royals 2)

“Yes, your Grace,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Everything looks good. It won’t be long now, but it seems like everything will go smoothly.” She smiled up at me.

I gave her a nod and gripped Iris around the waist, leading her out of the milking shed and into the main barn, then into the feed room in the corner. There was a big window there, which looked out on the yard, so I could still keep an eye on the kids. I closed the door behind us and guided Iris toward a table near the window.

Now that we were alone, we were back to the way we belonged, the way we were best together. She waited patiently for my command, glancing up at me only once, before lowering her eyes.

As I unbuttoned my britches I told her, “Bend over. Hands on the table.”

“You beast,” she whispered.

“Don’t you fucking sass me,” I said, putting my cock at her opening.

She let her head drop down, laughing, smiling, loving this fucking game as much as I did. But as I penetrated her, fast and rough, all those smiles and laughs fell away. She groaned, animal-like, bestial, as I rammed her with my cock. She was so fucking wet that I didn’t even need to ease myself inside. My balls slapped against her pussy lips and I pulled her ass cheeks apart. I’d fucked her hard in the ass last night, and the bud of her anus was still raw and red. “You look like you’re still feeling last night.”

She gave me a wordless nod, swallowing hard, like she always did when I made her nervous. Still deep inside her, I gathered a mouthful of saliva, sucked it into one cheek, and then spat it onto her anus. She hitched her hips when she felt it, letting me get that much deeper.

I grabbed a fistful of her hair and gave her a rough, ruthless fuck. “This cock is yours to make happy. Never fucking forget that,” I told her, driving deep and hard, pounding her cervix and keeping her hair tight in my fist. My other hand I kept on her belly, keeping my baby safe while I roughed her up like she deserved.

“It’s mine to make happy, my King,” Iris groaned.

“It’s yours to worship. Never forget that either.”

“It’s mine to worship, my King,” she agreed, gripping the table so hard that her knuckles turned white.

With my thumb, I teased her sensitive anus. “Fucking come for me. Right now.”

“Yes, my….” She stammered. “Oh, God, Randal, you’re going to make me…”

I felt her walls start to tighten, but she wasn’t there, not yet. Without a roar, without a growl, I shot my load into her just as she began to come, and one spurt after another pulsed from me in unison with the waves of her orgasm.

I pulled my dick out of her before she was even finished. With my cock still dripping, I turned her around. “Get your tits out,” I said, nudging her cheek with my nose. “I need your milk.”

She did just as I asked. Her milk was sweet and thick, and tasted so fucking good that I couldn’t help but close my eyes as I sucked it from her nipples. She ran her fingers gently through my hair as I drank, same as I’d seen her do with our children. Fuck almighty. Yes. She was everything to me. Everything I had never had and everything I had always fucking needed. She was the goddess that gave me purpose; she was the lover that gave me focus; she was the mother I never had. All fucking wrapped in one.

Little Randal’s scream outside interrupted me from drinking my fill. Iris looked at me and together we listened, assessing if it was a frustrated scream. Or one of danger and fear.

Iris turned over her shoulder and I saw her smile as I slipped her nipple from my mouth, licking it clean. “She’s your daughter alright,” Iris said, tucking her breasts back into her corset.

I straightened up, keeping my cock hidden behind Iris as I looked outside. On the ground, in the mud and muck, lay Randal on his back with Maggie on top of him, whaling on him with tiny fists.

“Good thing we taught him never to hit a girl,” I said. Yanking my britches up, I reached down to shift my balls to the right. Fuckers were actually throbbing, like they always did when I got to drink Iris’ milk.

Iris straightened her hair. “You can tell he wants to, though. And who could blame him?”

True enough. A swift pop from her brother might be just the thing she needed to set her straight. But rather than let them fight it out like animals, I yanked open the window and barked, “Maggie. Don’t think I won’t throw you in the pig trough.”