King Sized

And then he’s back above me, his face transformed. Strained and dotted with sweat. His hand is jerking back and forth inside his damp pants, his jaw unhinged.

“Just need to pretend…” He drops that stroking fist right on top of my sex, pressing down, and continues to buck into it. “Just need to pretend it’s that beautiful pussy I’m fucking.” His voice drops an octave, like he’s telling me a secret. “Order me to come, Britta.”

Is he telling me a secret?

Does Rex like being my servant in more ways than one?

That possibility is a rush of blood to my head. My fingers flex with power in his hair, twisting it roughly, making him groan, abuse his fist faster and harder. He’s a giant. He could take anything he wants from me. I’m no match for his physical strength. Nobody in the kingdom is. Yet he grits his teeth and shudders waiting for my permission to relieve himself.

It’s exhilarating.

I lean up slightly and lick a path up his neck, dragging my teeth back down the way I came. “The queen orders you to come, Rexington.”

He heaves himself into a climax, choking curses into the air above me, his fist giving a few final violent tugs within his pants. “Britta. Britta. Britta. Christ.”

His mouth seals over mine and I revel in the privilege of being connected to him while he pounds through the throes of pleasure, his body shuddering on top of me. Until finally he falls to his side in the grass to my right, rolling onto his back and sucking down oxygen.

I adore the way he looks.

So big and rugged and thick, his wet shirt plastered to the large swell of his belly, giving me a peek at the black hair underneath. He is the most attractive man on this earth to me. I’m sure, I’m positive in this moment, that no one else will ever compare.

And I might have to marry someone else to save the kingdom.

That reminder makes my heart sink, but Rex reaches over and cups my cheek and it buoys itself right back up. “You have honored me deeply, love.”

There are shadows in his eyes, telling me he’s having the same troubling thoughts about my potential impending marriage, but all I want to do is ignore the future as long as possible. “No.” I curl up against his side, sighing when he pulls me into the crook of his arm and begins stroking my back. “You honor me.”

4

Rex

Well, I’m good and screwed now, aren’t I?

My heart is permanently stuck up in my throat. I can’t stop looking at the queen, probably with big, idiotic hearts in my eyes. She’s so fragile and beautiful, the sunset bathing her in a glow as we walk back toward the palace. I’m feeling so protective, I’m half hoping a dragon roars down out of the bloody sky, just so I can slay it for her.

We had to wait until the guard rotation so I could sneak her in through the back entrance, so nobody would see her in wet clothes and wonder what the hell happened.

What in God’s name did happen?

Half the time at the inlet, I thought I might be dreaming. The queen, the most beautiful girl in all of creation, gave me her mouth so freely. Let me kiss it, put my tongue so deep inside of it, I could taste her pretty whimpers. I could have…she would have let me put my cock inside of her, had I not slowed things down. And I really need to pull my head out of my ass.

You cannot fuck the queen of Downsriver.

She is in a vulnerable place. That’s all this is. She needed comfort after the death of her parents and I was there to provide it. Tomorrow, a couple of well-groomed, normal-sized princes will come swaggering into the palace and she’ll forget all about the fat guard.

My heart drops from my throat to the bottom of my stomach.

Ah Jesus, I’m in love with her.

I knew it already, didn’t I? But now I know she’s selfless and sweet, on top of being gorgeous. She also has a good sense of humor, a sense of adventure. And a pussy that could make a man cry at his luck. Seriously, I almost did shed a tear when I saw the soft, little petals shielding such a delicious shade of virginal pink.

How am I going to keep from driving my sword through the heart of the man who puts a ring on her finger, thus earning the right to claim her?

How will I fucking stand it?

I need to remind myself of one thing.

It’s not like I, Rexington Monroe, might have a chance with Queen Britta if she doesn’t marry a prince. The whole idea is laughable. I should have a sword driven clean through my chest for even thinking such a thing. Britta deserves someone who was born to rule. Someone worthy of her status. Someone better looking, for godsakes.