The Rebel Queen

by Jeana E. Mann

  “Are we good then? Am I staying?” I can’t bear the uncertainty of not knowing my future. If we’re breaking up, I want to start the grieving process because getting over Henry will take a lifetime.

  He’s quiet. The thudding of my heart drowns out the infernal ticking of the grandfather clock. Each glide of his thumb over my hand increases the ache in my pussy. “I want to spend the rest of my life learning what crazy ideas lurk inside your pretty head. I want to champion all of your causes. And more than anything, I want to keep you safe. The beginning of our marriage has been a mess. That doesn’t mean the next fifty years have to be the same.”

  I launch into his arms. He grunts at the impact. His confession gives me hope. With my arms around his neck, I bury my face in his shoulder. “I’m never leaving you, Henry. Not in a million years.”

  32

  Everly

  Henry untangles my arms from around his neck and rocks back in the chair. The gravity in his eyes brings a lump to my throat. His lips press into a tight line. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

  “Stand up. Take off your dress and bra.” The grit in his tone makes my stomach churn.

  I follow his orders and stand in front of him, wearing only my panties, garter belt, and stockings. From his seat in the chair, he’s at eye level with my breasts. I draw my lower lip between my teeth and wait while he contemplates my punishment. My fingers twitch with the desire to comb through his hair.

  After a long exhale, he smooths his palms over my breasts. His fingers pluck and tease my nipples. The heat of his hands burns into my flesh. The moisture between my legs increases. Guilt, desire, and excitement collide inside me. He’s going to punish me, and I’m going to hate it—love it—beg for it. I run my tongue around my dry lips. “Please,” I croak.

  “You want this, don’t you, my dirty girl?” He tears his gaze away from my tits. The color of his eyes darkens.

  “Yes.” I need to pay for what I’ve done. Endangering the lives of innocent children was the last thing on my mind today. If I had been more obedient, if I’d listened to his command, none of this would have happened.

  Using thumb and forefinger, he pinches my nipples until the tips stand out in angry defiance. The clamps are gold, crusted with tiny jewels, and joined by a heavy gold chain. He opens the first clamp. My pussy flutters in anticipation of what’s to come.

  “These aren’t very tight,” he says, opening and closing the clamp as he speaks. “The rubber end fits over your nipple. It will be a little uncomfortable at first, but you’ll get used to it.” His lips encircle the tight pink nub and suck until I groan. While my eyes are closed in bliss, he applies the first clamp. I bite the inside of my cheek at the sharp pinch on my left breast then the right. “Are you okay? Open your eyes, Everly. I need to see how you’re doing.”

  His stare bores into my soul, exposing all of my secrets. I blink. There’s no escaping him. He’s stripped away my defenses, leaving me vulnerable. “I’m good.”

  “Excellent. Shall we begin?” The eagerness in his voice, as he speaks those three inflammatory words, escalates my pulse until my ribs feel like they’re going to crack. “Turn around, put your palms on the mattress, spread your legs.”

  My knees wobble. I swallow, fighting the urge to hyperventilate. I’m eager and excited, frightened, and torn. What kind of person enjoys being punished, debased, and fucked within an inch of her life? This girl. It’s part of who I am. A facet brought out by Henry’s sinful voice and scintillating touch. I slide one foot to the side then the other, opening my thighs for him.

  His hands skim over the small of my back, his touch reverent. The growl of his zipper echoes through the room. Behind me, I hear his excited breathing. He loves this as much as I do. His fingers tangle in the delicate side straps of my panties. The elastic stretches and snaps with a twist of his wrist. “I’m going to fuck you now. Hard and fast. Not for your pleasure but for mine. Because you’ve been bad. You understand that, Everly? That this is for me and not you?”

  “Yes.” The reply comes from a voice I don’t recognize as my own. “Just get on with it.”

  “Yes, what?” In reprimand, he gives a gentle tug to the chain dangling between my breasts. The sharp sting echoes through my center and into my pussy.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” I hiss at the pleasant burn.

  He chuckles. “So eager. You’ve come a long way, my love.”

  Yes, I’m eager. I’m wanton. I’m all of those things and more. His hand connects with my ass in a sharp slap. The sound echoes through the room. I cry out in shock and pleasure. The heat of his body presses against mine. The head of his cock slides through the moisture of my folds, once, twice then plunges inside me, all the way to the base in a single thrust.

  “I’m going to fuck this pussy until you beg me to stop. When I’m done, you’ll get on your knees and clean my cock with your tongue.” He begins a frantic rhythm. The smack of flesh upon flesh fills my ears, drowning the rush of my blood and the guilt and the uncertainty. His palm connects with my ass again, harder this time. “What do you say, Everly?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” My words are choppy and broken by the force of his thrusts. “Thank you, sir.”

  ***

  The next morning, I’m sore beyond belief. My nipples throb, my pussy aches, and my bottom is bruised from Henry’s palm. The debauchery comes back to me in snippets—Henry’s cock in my mouth, the unbearable return of blood into my nipples when he removed the clamps, the hot dots of semen on my breasts and face when he finally reached orgasm. A goofy smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. I relax into the soft pillows and bask in a feeling of contentment.

  “Good morning.” Henry walks into the room, wearing only a pair of trousers, a dress shirt in his hands. He stops at the edge of the bed to stare down at me with somber eyes. While he speaks, he shoves his arms into the sleeves and begins to button the front. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fantastic.” To demonstrate, I stretch my arms over my head. “How about you?”

  “I’m fine.” His unsmiling face provides no clues to his mood. Is he still angry with me? “I thought you might need some time away from me after last night, so I’ll take breakfast in my office.”

  “No.” I sit up, clutching the bedsheet to my chest. Breakfast together is my favorite part of the day. “Are you still upset with me?”

  The sharp lines of his face soften. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. “Of course not.” A smile bows his mouth. Those lips did incredible things to me, and I can’t wait for more. “Last night was intense. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it in the light of day.”

  “I feel great about it.” To demonstrate my sincerity, I climb to my knees and wrap my arms around his neck. “You knew exactly what I needed.”

  With a gentle touch, he smooths my hair back from my forehead and places a light kiss on my mouth. “I feel exactly the same way about you.”

  I tighten my hold on his neck, wishing I could draw him closer. “I love you, Henry.”

  “I love you more,” he replies and climbs into the bed with me.

  33

  Everly

  Christian arrives two weeks before my coronation with an entourage of assistants. He’s dressed in skinny jeans, a navy pullover, and Italian loafers. Serenity tempers his usual effervescent personality. Despite hours of etiquette coaching, I run to him the second his face peeks through the doors of the entrance hall.

  “Christian!” I throw my arms around his neck.

  “Your Highness.” He presses a kiss to my cheek. His broad smile illuminates the shadowy recesses of the castle.

  “You’re really here.” I had no idea how much I missed him until this minute. His smile broadens.

  “Of course. You didn’t think I’d miss your big day, did you?” Over his shoulder, I catch sight of a tall, athletic man in a dark three-piece suit. I lift an eyebrow. Christian’s smile grows broader. “Prince
ss Everly, may I present Dr. Chet Larrimore, my boyfriend.”

  “What?” The last remnants of my regal composure disintegrate. Christian hasn’t had a relationship with anyone since we met. I clear my throat, my gaze bouncing between the men. “Dr. Larrimore, you have no idea how excited I am to meet you.”

  He bends a dark head then takes my offered hand in his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness.”

  “Please, call me Everly.” I search his light green eyes. They stare back at me, filled with warmth, intelligence, and a touch of humor—everything Christian deserves in a partner.

  “And I’d be honored if you called me Chet.” His gaze flicks over to Christian. Mutual admiration underscores their shared smiles. “Chris speaks very highly of you.”

  “Did I mention that he’s a real doctor?” Christian waggles his eyebrows. “As in a heart surgeon? Like, he went to medical school for years. He’s tops in his field.”

  “Don’t brag, babe. You’re making me blush.” Chet beams beneath Christian’s praise. My heart skips a beat for their happiness. Only the best of men deserves a catch like Christian. Seeing their bliss is a gift in itself.

  I loop my free arm through Chet’s. With a handsome man on each side, I walk them into the drawing room. “I want to hear everything about how you met. Olga, would you bring us some tea, please? Are you hungry, gentlemen? I can have snacks brought up or sandwiches or anything you want.”

  “I’m fine, thank you, but tea sounds nice.” Chet’s voice carries the confidence of a man who makes daily decisions about life and death. His air of calm balances Christian’s energetic aura.

  “Nothing for me. I have to keep my girlish figure.” Christian holds me at arm’s length to run a critical gaze over my outfit. “Your figure is amazing, as always. But this dress—girl, what is going on here? From the looks of this potato sack, you’re in a fashion emergency.”

  “I hope you brought lots of clothes for me.” The strain in my relationship with Madame Chantelle continues to escalate. I lower my voice to a confidential murmur. “You have no idea how antiquated their views are on fashion and everything, really.”

  “We’re going to turn the royal court on its ear.” The twinkle in his eyes buoys my spirits. “I have a truckload of amazing outfits for you. All the designers are desperate to clothe the future queen. You and I are going to make fashion history.”

  “I can’t wait.” His enthusiasm is the boost I needed. Now I remember how it feels to have a friend who knows my story but loves me anyway. I’ve missed this in the worst way. “And I want to chat with you about auctioning off my used clothing for charity.”

  A sharp knock reverberates from the door and bounces off the mural on the ceiling. The footman steps inside. “His Majesty, King Heinrich.”

  Henry crosses the threshold. My pulse skips a beat at the sight of his blond head, broad shoulders, and regal posture. His blue-green eyes land on mine. I place a palm against my stomach to quiet the butterflies. “Good morning, my love.” The sound of his rumbling voice reminds me how much I miss him when we’re apart. We haven’t seen each other since yesterday. Top secret business dealings have kept him sequestered in his office until the early hours of the morning.

  “Good morning.” A bright smile stretches the corners of my mouth every time I see him.

  In a dozen long strides, he reaches my side and bends to kiss my temple. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. I wanted to say hello to your friends before the day got away from me.”

  Henry shakes each man’s hand. His warm reception of my friends reinforces my love for him. My smile widens. “Will you be able to join us for lunch?”

  “No. Not today.” He wraps an arm around my waist. The scent of his cologne, spicy and masculine, drifts between us. “I’m lunching with the board of the hospital about adding a new cardio wing, and then we’re going to play a round of golf on the royal course.” His gaze shifts to Chet. “Would you like to join us, Dr. Larrimore? Your input would be greatly welcome.” Fine lines furrow on his brow. “Unless you wish to rest up from your flight.”

  “Actually, I’d be very interested.” Chet lifts an eyebrow at Christian. “Do you mind, Chris?”

  “Not at all. It’ll give me time to catch up with my bestie,” Christian replies.

  “Great. I’ll have someone come for you around noon, Dr. Larrimore.” Henry takes my hand in his and lifts my fingertips to his mouth for a kiss. “In the meantime, Christian, I hope you can mediate some peace between Madame Chantelle and my wife. They’ve been at war over the state of her wardrobe. I won’t get any rest until she’s sorted out.”

  “It will be my pleasure, Your Majesty.” Christian curtsies.

  “Has it been that bad?” I ask. Mortification heats my face. Henry’s grin is all the answer I need. I grimace. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize, my love. Nothing thrills me more than your naughtiness.” A predatory gleam sparks in his eyes. The muscles in my core clench. His lips find my ear. The volume of his voice drops to a conspiratorial level. “Nothing except punishing you for it.”

  I can feel the weight of Christian’s judging gaze on us. “Henry, please.” I try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he tightens his hold beyond the boundaries of royal politeness. The cotton panel of my panties dampens, and I have a quick inappropriate flash of being pinned to the wall by his strong, masculine body.

  “We’ll discuss this later.” His fingers dig into my hip, making the space between my legs ache for more. “In the meantime, my palace is open to you, gentlemen. Please enjoy every amenity.”

  The men bow. Henry leaves as quickly as he arrived, his minions at his heels. My gaze follows his broad back into the hallway. I can’t help staring at the way his trousers stretch over his tight ass. Chet excuses himself to change clothes. Christian smirks at me.

  “What?” I ask, taking a seat on the leather sofa. To avoid his judgment, I focus on the tray of tea on the coffee table in front of us.

  “You know what. The sexual tension between you and your man almost got me pregnant. And that’s saying a lot.” The smile falls from his face. His gaze searches my face in an effort to see the truth. “Are things better between you?”

  “We’ve reached an understanding.” I choose my words carefully, unable to stop a broad smile from stretching across my face. “But yes. We’re good. I’m happy. Really happy.” Tears sting the corners of my eyes.

  “Honey, anyone with half a brain can see he’s crazy for you. A man can’t fake that kind of emotion. And judging by the exorbitant amount of money he allotted for your wardrobe, he’s determined to make you happy.” His expression softens. “I couldn’t be happier for you.”

  “Thanks.” A lump materializes in my throat. I grab his hand and squeeze. “I’m happy for us.”

  34

  Everly

  On the day of my coronation, I’m beyond nervous. My knees shake with each step down the grand staircase. Henry waits at the bottom, wearing his military uniform. The rubies and emeralds in his crown blink in the sunlight streaming through the windows. He stares up at me. Heat fills his blue-green eyes as they drag over my bare neck and shoulders. I take his outstretched hand for assistance down the last two steps.

  “You look beautiful, Your Majesty.” He refers to me with my new updated address. When I reach his side, he brushes a light kiss on my cheek to avoid smudging my lipstick.

  “Are you sure?” I fiddle with the folds of the gown. Christian had insisted on white silk. “You don’t think it looks like a wedding dress?”

  “Maybe a little.” His gaze skirts over my cleavage, pushed up to impossible heights by the corset. “But I like it.” The heat intensifies behind his lowered lashes. “I’m more interested in what’s underneath.”

  “I promise to show you. Later.”

  “How about now?” His earthy growl reminds of the way he groaned in pleasure when I sucked him off this morning.

  “Easy, tiger. We
have business, remember?” I place a hand on his chest. His heart beats against my palm, strong and steady. Pride swells inside me. This handsome, virile man loves me, and he’s all mine.

  “Of course.” He gathers both my hands in his and places a kiss on each one. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, but I’m excited to take on my new role as queen.

  “Excellent. Before we go, I have a surprise for you.” He withdraws a necklace from the front pocket of his trousers. It’s the same one worn by Queen Tatiana for her portrait. He drapes the chain around my neck and fastens the clasp.

  “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” I drag a fingertip over the gold setting and emeralds, thinking of the young girl who lost her life so soon after assuming the throne. Somehow, I get the feeling she’d approve of the gift.

  “You’re welcome, but that’s not the surprise.” He steps aside. I frown in confusion until Rourke moves into view. Roman stands at her side, his features implacable. I glance up at Henry, unable to reconcile the sight of my friends beneath the palace roof.

  “Hi.” The sound of Rourke’s voice causes my heart to leap.

  “Hi.” A rush of excitement blurs my vision. I blink until she comes into focus. “It’s really you.”

  “Yes. It’s me. I couldn’t miss your big day, could I?” She dabs at the moisture beneath my eyes with Roman’s handkerchief. “Don’t cry. Christian will have a fit if you smudge your makeup.”

  “I know. You’re right.” I sniff. My smile widens, stretching my cheeks to the point of pain. “Can I hug you?” Her pregnant belly protrudes beneath the skirt of an adorable blue gown.

  “If you don’t, I’ll kick your ass.” Her smile matches mine in intensity. An aura of good health and happiness surrounds her. I wrap my arms around her shoulders. Her stomach presses against my corset. “I may be big, but I can still pack a punch.”