King Sized

I’m gathering a bouquet of wildflowers on the hill, watching the sun dive into the ocean, when I hear my husband approaching with our son. They are in the midst of one of their very serious, very manly riding lessons, so I don’t call out to them. Rex rushed home from his training session with Downsriver’s new and improved army to catch the last rays of sunshine, so I meander around back of the new stone lookout tower, intending to give them their bonding time. At least until their conversation carries to me on the salt air.

“My tutor says laziness is a sin. Is it, Da?”

“Not once everything important is done,” Rex answers. “Or if it’s Sunday. No such thing as laziness on Sunday.”

“Ohhh.” I can see Braiden nodding solemnly in my mind’s eye. He’s currently in a phase where he asks approximately ninety-nine questions per minute and we’re trying to be very patient about it. “What else is a sin?”

“Oh…stealing. Killing. Lying is the worst one, though.”

“Why is lying the worst one?” Braiden asks.

“A man might steal to feed his family or kill to save an innocent. Those are sins that can be forgiven, but lying takes away a man’s honor.”

“Have you ever lied?”

“I twisted the truth once,” Rex says, a shiver in his voice. “And it almost cost me your mother. Almost cost me my happiness. My life.”

Braiden gasps. “Fecking hell, Da.”

Rex bites off a laugh. “Mind your tongue.”

“Sorry,” our son mumbles. “What would you be doing without her?”

“What do you think I’d be doing?” Rex says, as if the answer should be obvious. “I’d still be coming up with ways to win her back. And why is that?”

“Because you should never, ever give up.”

“That’s right,” Rex responds, warmly. “Now take your mount to the stables and see to his care. You did very well today.”

“Bye, Da.”

I smile and lean against the tower, listening to the sound of hooves pounding in the opposite direction. My heart sighs over the bond between my king and his son. It sighs over so many things these days. A marriage that overflows with love. A flourishing kingdom.

I smooth a hand over my pregnant belly.

New life.

In my periphery, I see Rex step closer to the edge of the cliff and clasp his hands loosely behind his back, lifting his face to the sunset. I absorb the sight of him eagerly, marveling over the confidence that he wears like second skin now, making him even sexier than he was in the beginning. Back when we first admitted our love for each other. This man not only rules Downsriver with fair but firm authority, he values me as his equal partner. His co-ruler and queen. His advisor in all decisions.

I hunger for him constantly.

Especially now, with the proof of his virility growing in my belly.

All I have to do is whisper his name and he turns his head, pleasure and love blanketing his features to find me leaned against the stone tower. “God, you are a sight, Britta,” he rasps, coming toward me, eyes sweeping downward to where my full breasts are plumped in the neckline of my gown. “All covered in the golden light. An angel.”

“Your angel,” I murmur, pulling him down for a kiss.

I give him the kind of tongue that is usually reserved for our bedchamber, after dark. Opening my lips wide, lapping at his upper lip like a wanton. And he takes it hungrily, his breath running short, his erection taking mere moments to stretch up and prod the underside of my pregnant stomach. “Are you in need of my services, Your Majesty?” he says hoarsely, already reaching down to unfasten his pants. “It will be my honor to see to your pleasure.”

I skim a hand down over his bulging sex, cupping his balls firmly and listening to him choke my name. “Always so eager to serve, aren’t you?”

His groan mingles with the crashing of water on the rocks below. “Serve you? Yes.”

I increase the pressure. “Poor man. These need emptying, don’t they?”

“Yes. Please.” He ruts my hand with desperate rolls of his hips. “Allow me to empty them between the thighs of my beautiful queen.”

Our mouths collide, anxious for union. Contact. Connection.

We are equals when we sit on our thrones.

Or make decisions for our son.

But in the bedchamber, Rex is my servant, I’m his ruler, and we both relish our roles. Crave the chance to slip into them at every opportunity. Like right now, when I turn and flatten my palms on the tower. “You have my permission,” I whisper, eyes closed, chafing my nipples shamelessly against the stone.

I’m breathless. Excited.

Hungry for my husband.

Rex places his open mouth on the side of my neck, gathering then hem of my dress, bunching it at my waist. Pauses, unbreathing. “You’re wearing no underthings, my queen,” he groans, palming my nude backside. “You are as eager for a dirty rut as I am.”