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Something mischievous flickers in Britta’s eyes. It’s the only warning I’m given before she comes to her knees, walking toward me until she can straddle my lap, her little hands perched on my shoulders. Ah God. I know I should stop her, but I can’t. All I can do is sit and let my obsession press her pussy down on my erection, wiggling around a little to get comfortable. “Rexington?” she purrs in my ear, her tongue touching the lobe just slightly. Just enough to make me groan. “I hereby order you to speak to me coarsely.”
My head falls back and my queen kisses my throat, rides her open mouth up my stubble-covered jaw and ghosts her lips over my mouth.
“One day,” I say on a shudder, eager to give Britta what she’s ordered me to give. “One day of kissing and touching and you’ve already learned to be a goddamn weapon, haven’t you? Do you like teasing me with your pretty pink cunt?”
Her nod is vigorous. Breathless. “Yes.”
“Is your pussy wet for another tongue fucking, Your Majesty?”
Britta’s mouth forms an O, her legs jolting around me. “N-no. Well yes. But no.”
“No?” I throw her down on the blankets and palm her sex, molding the wet, little thing in my hand. “Did I not lick your clit well enough this morning, my queen? The way you dripped off my chin afterward says otherwise.”
“Rex!”
Oh God, I need to pull back, rein myself in, but I can’t seem to manage it. I’m horny and jealous and in love and that’s a powerful trifecta. “You asked for my filthy mouth, didn’t you?”
“Y-yes, but…”
“You want to get licked off again,” I shove the hem of her slip up to her waist, groaning over the damp seam of her pussy. Without missing a beat, I part that virgin flesh and dip two fingers inside of her, careful not to push them too deep—and fuck. Fuck. She is tight and hot. Ripe for a man. “I know you do, little girl.”
“Oh!” Her back arches, her eyes seemingly blind. Is my crude speech affecting her so much? Yes. Yes it is. And my pride over pleasing Britta is consuming, makes my temples pound.
But when I remove my fingers and dip my mouth between her legs to start licking, Britta’s fingers twist in my hair, stopping me from descending all the way. “No, I want you inside me,” she sobs.
My cock jerks painfully, demanding I bury it in her virgin pussy. To take take take until we’re both satisfied. Replete. There is nothing I want more in this world than to have Britta completely. Make love to her without restraint, without limits.
I’m held back by the fact that she’d regret it.
Maybe I haven’t even admitted it fully to myself, because the knowledge is painful. It makes my heart feel like it’s been dropped into a vat of acid. Yes, the future king could seek retribution against the man who deflowered his bride. Yes, I could be hanged. Yes, Britta might be ridiculed. That last possibility is the worst. Almost as bad, though, is knowing she doesn’t really want me to make love to her. She’s just confused, caught up in her recent grief, seeking human connection to deal with the pain. When the dark cloud finishes passing over, I won’t have her cringing over such a mistake. Giving her virginity to a hefty brute.
“No, Britta. No.”
Her disappointment is too much to bear. It very nearly breaks me. Drives me mad. Makes me want to tear out every strand of my fucking hair.
And I’m pushed even closer to the edge when she peels the slip off over her head, leaving the queen lusciously naked, her pale skin glowing among the blankets. The bed I made her. A beautiful virgin offering for the beast.
“I want to belong to you for one night. Completely.”
“You don’t,” I say thickly, unable to keep my eyes off the bounty in front of me. A feast fit for kings, not inconsequential guards. “You don’t really want that.”
“Don’t tell me what I want.” She sits up and presses her mouth to mine, giving me no choice but to kiss her ravenously, with every ounce of frustration and love inside of me. With every wild, anguished beat of my heart. And then her hand finds my erection, stroking it through my pants, cradling my balls, massaging them until I heave a curse, breaking the kiss.
“Britta,” I growl.
“I hereby order you to make love to me, Rexington Monroe,” she whispers.
And my tether snaps.
* * *
Britta
Ever since I learned about the mechanics of sexual congress between a man and a woman, I’ve always assumed it would be terribly awkward. Two barely acquainted people in a stuffy bedchamber just trying to get it over with. And if I allow Rex to bring me back to the palace tonight and marry a prince, that is exactly how my first time will be. I can’t allow that.
