King Sized

But the image remains and I think no longer, I simply run, red bleeding into my vision, fear turning my skin clammy. I don’t draw my blade on the slight chance they might reverse positions at the last moment and I maim Britta instead. I’m the much larger man and I use that to my advantage, plowing into the man who would dare touch the queen, tackling him to the ground in my full armor. Pinning him there by the neck. Behind me, I hear Britta suck in a choking breath and rage descends on me like vultures.

I draw my sword and hold it high above my head—

“No!” Britta wheezes, her hand circling my wrist. “I don’t know who he is, but he’s not the prince. We need to question him.”

I’m shaking with the need to commit violence. To avenge her.

The vermin squirms underneath me, demanding to be punished. But I am not built to go against the queen’s wishes. It’s as though I’m incapable. So instead, I flip my sword over and bring the hilt down hard on his head, rendering the man deeply unconscious.

He won’t wake for hours.

I squeeze my eyes closed. Fearing her answer, I ask raggedly, “Are you hurt badly?”

“N-no.”

Still shaking with residual anger and fear, I slide my sword back into place and stand to face Britta. When I see the tears in her eyes, there is nothing on earth that could stop me from stripping off my armor, tossing it to the ground, and holding her. Wrapping my arms around her trembling form and hauling her against my chest. “You’re safe now, love. He can’t harm you now.”

Her arms loop around my neck, making me feel sane for the first time today. We’re both breathing hard, hands roaming. And it seems like the most natural thing in the world to lift her higher off the ground so she can burrow her face into my neck. With my last bit of awareness of our surroundings, I walk us off the path and into the shadows, gritting a curse when my cock begins to stiffen against the fastenings of my pants. Her breath bathes my neck, followed by hesitant grazes of her lips that grow bolder when I tilt my head, asking for more without words. She kisses and sucks a line up the side of my throat, and then we’re just clawing at each other, shamelessly, frantically.

My hands roam down over her backside, massaging those tight little mounds of flesh, riding her up and down in my lap, listening to her moan of approval in my ear.

We can’t do this, though.

It’s inexcusable.

I told her I’m resigning my post and I meant it. This man who attacked her was obviously some kind of an imposter. But it changes nothing between Britta and I. We can never be together in the open.

We’re not in the open now, though, are we?

No. We’re hidden. Alone. My body won’t let me forget that fact. Especially when she wraps her legs around my waist and seeks my mouth, offering me soft lips and an eager tongue, which I accept greedily, growling into the kiss. I almost lost her. I almost lost her.

You never had her.

Not really.

“I need you,” she breathes against my mouth, reaching down between us to unfasten my pants. “I was so scared, Rex, and I need you.”

Those words doom me.

Stagger me.

Britta needs reassurance, and the fastest way to give it to her is that closest connection. The one where our souls join and our bodies press so tight, until we’re one. Sharing everything. Fear, pleasure, hope.

“Yes, my queen,” I groan, gathering the hem of her dress in my hands, lifting it to her waist and ripping away her underthings with aggressive twists of my wrists. The fine, delicate layers of material give way easily and bare her spread cunt, showing off its beauty to me in the light for the first time. It glistens with wetness. “Your fear was not enough to rob you of cream.”

Her green eyes are wide, emotion packed. “I need you even in my dark moments.”

Britta’s admission humbles me and makes me desperate to pleasure her at the same time. Suctioning our mouths together, I lift her onto my cock, pressing her down, down, burying myself between her drenched folds until I’m home. Locked inside the tightest place on earth. “And your fucking legs are already shaking around me, aren’t they?” I rasp, resting our foreheads together. “Of course they are, because crown or no crown, you’re just my horny little girl once you’re sitting on my dick.”

“Yes,” she gasps.

“How do you want it, Your Majesty?” I whisper against her mouth. “Fast and hard?”

“Fast and hard,” she repeats, nodding unevenly, her eyes glassy—and I look right into them when I start to fuck her, bouncing her sweet, forbidden pussy up and down my pole, watching her love it, enjoy it, her neck losing power after five thrusts.