King Sized

Rex’s youngest sister’s giggles and clear adoration of her brother are infectious and I’m wiping tears of mirth from my cheeks by the time he’s done singing the song.

“We have to dance,” announces Katrina, pulling me off Rex’s lap. “Come on, Queen Britta. The night isn’t complete until we’ve cut a rug.”

Rex starts another tune on his lute and I’m suddenly being swung around the living room, passed between sisters, twirled around and dipped. One song bleeds into the next until I lose track of how long we’ve been dancing. It’s not until the final song pinches out the final note that I notice how Rex is watching me. With desire. Urgency.

My body responds to his visible need, liquid heat trickling down to my loins, my breasts seeming to swell within the confines of my dress. I go to him, framing his face in my hands and he shudders at my touch, leaning into my palm. “Might we pass the night here?” I whisper. “I’m not ready to go back to the palace.”

“We will have to rise early, so I can bring you back before the palace wakes.”

I nod. “I understand.”

Rex starts to stand. “I will ask my sisters to share a room—”

“What about the stables?”

My guard stares at me like I’ve suggested we travel to the moon. “My queen is not sleeping in the stables.”

“But the queen wishes to sleep in the stables.”

“Britta…”

“Please? I’m enjoying being…normal. For once.” I slide my fingers into his hair, scraping his scalp with my fingernails, loving the way his eyes almost roll back in his head. “And Rex?”

His fingers curl in the hem of my dress, as if battling the need to pull me closer. “Yes, love.”

“I’d very much like you to join me in the stables.”

6

Rex

Has a man ever so eagerly approached his doom?

I arrange the blankets in the stall full of fresh hay, Britta leaning against the entrance, watching me. Watching me build the place that she’ll sleep. The honor of doing this for her feeds the new hunger inside me. A hunger that is specific to Britta. She wants something done and I make it happen, whether I like it or not. And I definitely don’t love the idea of her sleeping in hay on blankets unworthy of her soft skin, but I give the queen what she wants.

Doing so makes me hard.

Unbearably hard.

Just as watching her dance and laugh made me realize how much I love her.

I’ll love her until the day I leave this earth.

She is grace and kindness and light.

I’m trying not to dwell on the fact that things will change tomorrow. Of course they will. Two princes will arrive and no doubt vie for my beauty’s hand. Knowing what the morning will bring, it is going to be very difficult not to lay a claim tonight. My entire being is growling with jealousy and protectiveness and need. How am I going to make it these next several hours without making love to her? Just once. Just once to remember and replay endlessly forever.

“That looks perfect,” she says, her praise making my dick throb.

I glance back to find the queen disrobing.

Off comes the dress and slippers and stockings until she’s down to her slip.

That flimsy little slip that clings to her body, telling all of her secrets. Her nipples are in juicy points against the paper-thin fabric, the shadow of her pussy making my mouth water.

And Christ, her legs. Her legs should have poetry written about them, they’re so long and lithe. Perfect for wrapping around my hips.

I’m fucked. I’m so terribly fucked.

“I thought we were banishing our worries until tomorrow,” Britta murmurs, sitting down in front of me. In nothing but a slip. How easy it would be to get the girl on her back and—

“We can banish our worries tonight, Your Majesty,” I rasp. “But that doesn’t mean we can create future worries.”

She leans back on her hands, tightening the material over her tits. So much that I can judge the exact shade of her nipples. “How would we do that?” she asks, tilting her head.

“You know very well,” I nearly growl. “We’ve discussed this. I can’t…”

“Make love to me. I know.” Her breath comes faster now. “But what if you could?”

“Ah Jesus, Britta,” I grit out, burying my head in my hands. “I’d be rutting you day and night. You know that, love. I’d have you on all fours before those green eyes opened in the morning. You’d be bent over so often, your palm prints would be on every piece of furniture in the palace. I never expected you to glance in my direction and what you’ve given me already…what you’ve allowed me…” I swallow hard. “No, I won’t be greedy.”

I glance back up to find her eyes wide as saucers.

“I’m sorry, my queen.” The tips of my ears burn. “I shouldn’t be speaking to you so coarsely. It’s inexcusable of me.”