King Sized

“Is my queen enjoying that cock?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“Tell me it’s yours,” he begs gruffly, his glazed eyes imploring me.

That requests lifts me higher, closer to the precipice, bringing me to another level of this connection between us. I know exactly what he wants and I have need to give it. This is our own language, true and honest and urgent. “That big, stiff thing between your thighs is mine, Rexington,” I say, yanking his head down, so I can speak right against his ear. “It serves me and only me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he heaves, pushing my knees up to my shoulders, bearing down on me with breathless desperation, that big body in a blurred state of motion, animalistic mating. “Only you. Only you.”

“Come inside me,” I purr, burying my nails in his back and ripping them downward, gripping the hard slabs of his buttocks, slapping them, making him bellow choppily. “Come inside me as deep as you can.”

“No, Britta, no.” And yet he thrusts harder, his hands scooping beneath my bottom to hold me stationary for his ferocious drives. “I cannot do that!”

I lock my ankles behind his back. “That’s an order.”

“Ahhh fuck. Fuck.” He grits his teeth and starts to shake. “I can’t stop it. My seed is coming, love. But I will have your satisfaction first.”

He flattens me, all of his weight on top of me now, rutting me furiously, his hot breath echoing in my ear. I didn’t have far to go to begin with, but the animal quality in him awakens mine and I begin rubbing my sex on the fat trunk of his. Meeting him slap for slap, grind for grind, my teeth digging into the meat of his shoulder, the climax washing over my head and dragging me down.

“The queen comes for me,” he roars triumphantly, rearing back and rapping a fist to his blood-smeared chest. “I make you come, Britta.”

“Yes, Rex.” My head thrashes side to side, my body squeezing around his impossibly large shaft, already sore from the force of the constrictions. “My Rex.”

My claim makes him jerk and his eyes go blind, that huge body stilling. His mouth falls open and he moans, long and low, wet warmth hitting my womb in ropey spurts.

“My Britta,” he roars.

Just as I asked, he holds himself in the deepest possible recesses of my body, unloading himself with violent shudders, his hoarse groans echoing in my ear. Long moments pass of Rex in the throes, my backside caught in his bruising grip, his seed overflowing my sex and soaking into the blankets, dripping down my legs, into his palms.

Finally, he heaves himself down onto the blankets beside me, a sheen of sweat shining on his hearty body, and I can’t help a sense of feminine satisfaction to have felled this gorgeous giant with my body. And my love. His arms go around me and he holds me against his chest, rocking me to sleep, holding me like he’ll never let me go.

Will he, though?

He called me his.

How far is he willing to go to make that a reality?

With sleep closing in on me, I decide to set aside my worry for tomorrow.

Rex will come through. He’ll hold on to me at all costs.

I know he will.

7

Rex

Heart in my throat, I stare down at the tiny queen curled up among the blankets.

Pre-dawn light spills in from the slats of the stables, kissing her porcelain skin, highlighting hidden hints of blue in her midnight hair. The abrasions I left on her nude body.

Lord, she is a wonder. A sweet, beautiful wonder.

I look down at my own hands, scarred and misshapen.

Did I really have the fortune of a night with this girl? Did I really dare touch her perfect skin with these calloused fingers? What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Let her marry a prince?

Gulping, I turn and stomp from the stables, my destination the nearby creek. When I reach the edge, I strip quickly and wade straight into the gurgling water, letting the iciness stab my skin. I resurface only when my lungs begin to burn as painfully as my heart, reaching for the bar of soap always left at the base of the tree. The queen might be able to remain fresh as flowers after a night of rutting, but I can’t, and I won’t be stinking around her on top of being the unworthy bastard that took her virginity.

She’s going to marry someone else.

I look down at the soap in my hand to find it mutilated and drop the useless carcass of suds into the creek, watching it float away with eyes that feel bloodshot.

“You’re up early.”

I glance back over my shoulder to find Katrina taking a seat on the bank. “I’m not in need of any company, thank you.”

“You’re in a foul mood for someone who spent the night tupping the queen.”