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“What I want specifically,” she says, her wry grin the only thing she’s wearing. “Is for you to give me what you said. To fuck me until I don’t remember my name.”
Her eyes drop to my cock, fully erect and pierced and ready to serve her. “Don’t keep your queen waiting.”
Chapter 5
Noelani
Who is this uninhibited woman walking naked before a stranger?
This hungry creature with pleasure dripping down her thighs, demanding more? This woman unfazed by a lover with twice the cock of her husband’s, and pierced to boot? I stride with confidence belied by my wobbly knees and crawl onto the mammoth bed.
And wait.
For a few seconds, the threat of rejection circles overhead like a buzzard. Grim’s not right behind me, not nipping at my heels, and that cold fist of doubt punches me in the throat, but then he walks in slowly, and I understand the delay.
He’s shed his clothes and enters the hotel bedroom completely naked, his only adornment a simple gold chain with two rings hanging from his neck. The tuxedo was a thin skin of civilization, and beneath it lay the wild, bronzed beauty of his body. Massive shoulders, chiseled pecs with dark brown nipples, a taut, muscled belly, long, carved thighs and calves.
And that elongated cock, tipped with the swollen, pierced head. I don’t even realize I’ve reflexively opened my legs until the cool air kisses my wet pussy. He makes me brazen, makes me discard not only my crown, but something even more vital—my guard. I want to let him in, and by the unmitigated hunger of his stare fixed between my thighs, he wants to get in.
He crawls to the center of the bed where I lay with my legs splayed. Eyes latched to mine, he reaches down and runs one calloused thumb over my clit.
/> “Oh, God.” I widen my legs and pull up my knees. This need has left no room for shame or self-consciousness.
He strokes again, steadily increasing the pace, and thrusts his middle finger inside me.
“Grim,” I gasp, my back arching, my hips taking up the rhythm of his fingers.
He doesn’t answer, but with his free hand, strokes a palm along the inside of my thigh, subtly pushing me open even wider. He carries this out with a steady zeal until I hear my own wetness and smell my own passion. I cry out, another powerful orgasm sweeping through me. I collapse back into the satiny pillows, my eyes heavy, my body languid like a bee drunk on honey as he leaves the room.
When he comes back, he’s already rolling a condom over his length, and even through the latex, the barbell of his piercing shines with potent promise. Grim positions his lean hips between my trembling thighs, and leans forward, bends down until his lips caress the corner of my jaw. His breath brushes soft and warm over the shell of my ear.
“Are you ready to be fucked, little queen?”
There’s no dignity in my response. “Please.” I’m nearly in tears, begging, pleading. I want it so badly. “Please fuck me.”
Granting a wish, following a command—I don’t know which, but he enters me with force. There is nothing tentative about his first thrust. His big body surges forward, conquering mine in one movement. It’s breath-snatching how huge he is. My tight passage stretches around him, struggling to accommodate what feels like a fist inside me, but the sensual press of that barbell, in and out and in and out, mutes the slight discomfort of a man for whom it should be anatomically impossible to fit.
Oh, but he does.
“Jesus.” I tip my head back and curl my legs around his pistoning hips, digging my heels into the ungiving, muscled globes of his ass.
That drag of those balls strung through the head against the walls of my pussy is maddening, wearing a Grim-groove inside the most private parts of me. Rua was always quick, like sex was something he needed to check off the list his secretary brought to him each morning with his coffee.
Meet with the Minister of Foreign Affairs.
Budget review.
Fuck your queen.
I was a task in the list of many, and after I bore his heir, I wasn’t a task he remembered to handle as often.
But this.
This is not me on a list. This is me as the list. The singular focus of Grim’s cock on my pussy, of his eyes boring into mine in the dim lamplight, it’s almost too much.
And the endurance. I don’t know how long he’s inside me, but he’s made himself at home. I grab his shoulders, finding them slick with sweat from the vigor of our bodies grinding like well-oiled gears. He fucks me hard and long until all I can do is mumble his name over and over, like a chant. I’m devout. I’m devoured. I’m a woman, clawing a man’s back and shouting with desperate pleasure. I don’t care if the guard beyond my door hears. The whole of Manaroa could gather in the next room, and I wouldn’t be able to stop the begging, mewling, wailing sounds I make when I come. In this moment, I’m not a queen. Not a regent or a ruler. I’m his.
I scream Grim’s name.
