by Jessa Kane
Britta nods against my back and I relax, feeling like I just walked through a minefield. Why? I have no idea. She could probably care less about the whole situation. She’s just making small talk.
She adds a second finger inside my waistband. A third and a forth.
They push lower, her fingertips brushing my cock.
“Now, Britta…” I swallow hard, looking down and marveling at the sight of her graceful hand lodged inside my pants, my bulge nearly bursting the seams. “We’re going to be there soon. I can’t arrive like this.”
Her fist curls around me, and I choke on a groan. And then I feel her lips kissing up my spine and flames engulf me. “I don’t like thinking of you with women,” she says quietly, still planting kisses in the middle of my back, her fist beginning to stroke me. “I hate it. Is that…terribly improper?”
“No,” I say raggedly. “But it’s unnecessary. I…”
“What?” she whispers.
Oh God, I can’t hold back. The truth is scaling the sides of my throat, desperate to be out in the open. “My cock has belonged to you, my queen, since the day I saw you.”
Her gasp mingles with the loud rapping of my heart. Waiting for her response to my—probably ill-advised—confession, my hands twist in the reins.
“Good,” she whispers, finally, squeezing me tightly in her grip.
That single word, combined with her possessive hold, nearly makes me come. I have to concentrate and bite my lip to stop the semen from spewing out. I’ve never experienced this part of myself. There was never even a hint that I might wish to be…obedient for a woman.
It’s all Britta.
She releases my cock only to trace the seam of my balls with a fingertip. Then she slowly scoops them up and tests them in her soft palm. “Are these mine, too?”
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
“Yes,” I say raggedly. “Yours.”
How is this really happening? This tiny slip of a girl has a giant by the balls. Literally. She could ask me for anything in the world and I would agree to it. I burn for the chance to please her. Her happiness is the only way to be fulfilled. It makes no sense that she is touching me, an ugly bastard, with her unsoiled hand, but I am too enthralled to stop her.
Too hot. Too grateful. Too desperate.
Her soft hand massages my heavy balls, shooting sparks down to my toes. My cock is engorged to the point of agony, sweat beginning to arrive in embarrassing places. Someone approaches from the opposite direction on the road and I hastily cover my lap with the flap of my unbuttoned uniform jacket. The man waves on his way past us and I nod back. No big deal. I’m just being jacked off by the queen on our way to a party. Happens every day.
She finishes exploring my sack and slips that sweet hand around my dick again, pumping it quickly now. So quickly the air bursts out of me. “I’m going to disgrace myself, Britta.”
“I would like to kiss you here. The way you did to me this afternoon.”
Lust rips into me at the very thought.
I’ve never had a female’s mouth there.
Let alone a mouth as sweet and pure as this girl’s. This girl I worship. It would be the very death of me. “No, love. No.” Using the cuff of my jacket, I swipe sweat from my upper lip, painfully aware that my thighs are beginning to shake, my loins seizing up. And oh Christ, her touch is the perfect torture. Soft and inexperienced, but determined. “You will not serve the servant.”
She leans up and whispers against my neck, her grip flying up and down my throbbing staff. “I can do whatever I want with this,” she murmurs innocently. “It’s mine.”
I erupt.
My come spills into her palm, into my pants, some of it splashing onto the saddle. Relief like I’ve never known courses through my veins, nearly making me dizzy. And it’s not just the pressure in my balls that is lessened, it’s the packed feeling in my chest, because here come the words. Sentiments I try so hard to keep to myself, but in the throes, I have no control. “I’ll do anything for you. I’ll lick that royal little pussy every second of the fucking day. I’ll make you come when you’re horny. When you command it. I will serve you any way you allow. I will…” I thrust my hips into her grip and release my final drops, the consuming tension finally deserting me. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” I rasp, dizzy, shocked at the fortune she’s granted me. “Thank you.”
She kisses me on the shoulder and the center of my back, removing her hand from my pants, wiping my spend on the corner of her shawl. Then she wraps her arms around me from behind, as far as they’ll go. “I can’t seem to stop touching you,” she whispers. “If it begins to vex you, do tell me so I can try to stop.”
“No chance of that, love,” I say gruffly, my heart rattling around in my ribcage. I bring one of her hands to my mouth, kissing the knuckles. “No chance of that.”
Tonight is a dream and it’s barely begun. But I’m already thinking about the torturous hell arriving in the form of two princes in the morning.
5
Britta
I’m not nervous until we reach the house.
The five voices, belonging to Rex’s sisters, ringing out from within that make my palms sweat. What if they don’t like me? What if I don’t meet their expectations?
I’ve never really had to worry about such a thing before. People liking me. It never really mattered, because either way, I was royalty. But tonight, with my hair loose and wind-tangled, I’m not the queen. I’m a guest at a party. And I will be judged on my character, my personality, not my title.
I very much want Rex’s sisters to like me.
Not only because I’m falling, rather stupidly, in love with their big brother.
But because they are women my own age. Or close. And I’ve never actually had any friends. Only instructors and acquaintances from other kingdoms who I only see once a year during feasts or political summits. Just like everything else, I only came by those associations because of my title. Am I even able to make friends? Do I even know how?
Rex dismounts the horse and we meet eyes for the first time since I…well, since I had my hand in his pants. There are fading red stains on his cheekbones and a wry smile playing around the edges of his mouth. He actually seems kind of bashful over what happened, and my masochistic heart trips all over itself.
Oh dear, I already am in love with this giant guard of mine, aren’t I?
I will serve you any way you allow.
Those words seem to ring between us, pulling us together like gravity. He plucks me off the horse like I weigh less than a feather, holding me to his mighty chest instead of depositing me on the ground. I wrap my arms around his neck and inhale his masculine musk. Sweat and grass and soap. I rub my cheek on his evening whiskers, enjoying the resounding rumble in his throat.
I’ve never had a bond like this with anyone, yet I know instinctively that it’s unique.
This man protects me. He is strong and fearsome and built for battle.
But he relishes being my servant in all ways.
Not just as his profession, but…in a sexual way.
Having all of this brutish strength at my disposal, harnessed by my much smaller hands, is a power I never knew I wanted. Or needed.
But I do.
I need Rexington Monroe.
And if I marry a prince, I don’t think there’s any way I can keep him. Not without disrespecting my marriage or Rex himself. Two things I would never dream of.
“I have an idea,” Rex says against my temple, voice gruff. “Why don’t we banish all worries until tomorrow, my queen?”
“I would like that very much,” I sigh, securing my arms tighter around his neck.
His thumb strums my spine. “You know I would banish them forever for you, if I could.”
“Yes.” I look up. “I do know that.”
Kissing Rex is the most natural thing in the world. It’s the only choice. The only activity I want to perform with my mouth for the rest of my life. If my feet weren’t
already dangling down by his knees, I would levitate. He slowly traces the seam of my lips until they part on a breath and then he ducks his head, marrying our mouths together. The pace of the kiss increases until I’m tugging at strands of his hair and Rex is clutching my bottom, his big chest puffing up and down, faster and faster—
A door creaks open.
“Do my eyes deceive me? Rex is here and…he’s brought a girl, if you can believe it. An itty bitty one. Kissing the face right off her, he is. Just there in the side yard!”
A different voice joins in. “What? Where?”
And a third. “A girl? How much do you reckon he paid her?”
Laughter belts out from within the house and I’m suddenly shoved behind Rex’s back, my lips still tingling from the passionate kiss. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that where we could be seen. I got carried away,” he mutters to me over his shoulder. “I’ll make sure they’re discreet.” He looks back at his sisters and I don’t have to see his face to know it’s stern. It’s right there in his voice. “Mind your manners, now.”
“Go on, let us have a look at her.”
“Yes, let us make the acquaintance of the bravest woman in Downsriver.”
Rex sighs. “Katrina, Jane, Beth, Paulina and Priscilla. Allow me to please introduce Her Royal Majesty, Queen Britta.”
A beat passes before five peals of laughter ring out.
“You always were a joker, brother.”
“Be honest, that’s a sheep with a wig on.”
With a wince, I remove my shawl and step out from behind Rex, producing five identical expressions of horror. And to my horror, all five of them drop to their knees, heads bowed.
“I beg your forgiveness, Queen.”
“Queen Britta, it is an honor. Please accept our condolences about your parents. There never was a fairer king and queen.”
I pang catches me in the throat. “Thank y—”
“Our brother was kissing the fecking queen,” comes a furious whisper.
“There is no need to apologize. Or kneel.” Face burning, I signal them all to rise. “Your brother was kind enough to invite me tonight. I hope I’m not imposing.”
“Heavens no!” They all begin making sweeping gestures toward the door. “We are honored, Queen Britta. Please do come in.”
“Thank you.”
I’ve never been inside of home full of so much…warmth. There are pots simmering on the stove and paper decorations affixed to the ceiling. Shoes discarded by a crackling fire. The bottom floor is one connected space containing a small kitchen, a long dining table, then a circle of comfortable chairs by the fireplace. Towards the back, there is a staircase which I suspect leads to the bedrooms, although I imagine a house this small can only fit two or three.
“Is this the house where you grew up?” I ask Rex, watching as he ducks to avoid a hanging paper lantern.
“It is.” He nods toward the back of the house. “But there are stables out back. That’s where I made my bed most nights.” He tweaks the nose of one of his sisters—a young, dark-haired girl who shares Rex’s brown eyes. “To escape the squabbling.”
Another girl, one who appears to be the oldest, gasps, waving her hands. “Do not malign us in front of the queen!”
Rex snorts. “That ship has sailed.”
“Incorrigible, you are,” she says, coming forward. “I’m Katrina, Your Majesty. The oldest daughter and the one with the most decorum. Please come sit down and I’ll get you a drink.”
“I will be getting her the drink,” Rex says, his eyes heating.
He’s turned on. Because he’s serving me.
I’m suddenly breathless in a room full of potential new friends. This can’t be the correct way to get off on the right foot—lusting for their brother. “I, um…” Deep breath. My eyes seek out the youngest-looking sister and I notice for the first time that she’s wearing a pink paper crown. “It must be your birthday. You’re…Priscilla?”
“She knows my name,” breathes the girl. “Yes, Your Majesty. I’m sixteen today.”
“A very important birthday,” I say, smiling as an idea occurs to me. Reaching down, I unclasp the jeweled cuff bracelet around my wrist and hand it to the girl. “Please accept this as my gift to you.”
Priscilla looks like she’s going to faint, so I reach out to steady her. “Oh no, Queen Britta, I couldn’t.”
“I insist. It will look lovely on you.” I smile again to reassure her. “Try it on.”
While the sisters crowd around Priscilla to get a better look, Rex comes up behind me, putting what appears to be mulled wine in my hand—and he slowly plants a kiss on my shoulder. “She’ll never forget that, love.”
And I’ll never forget this night. It numbs me to the grief that has been on a low boil inside me since yesterday. Takes me away, forces me to see the humor in the world.
We sit in front of the fire for hours while the sisters tell me stories about growing up in a household with six siblings. How Rex suffered through Katrina learning to braid hair by using him as the test subject. They swap memories of the pranks they played on each other, including quite a few buckets of water left on top of the stable door. I laugh more during those stories than I’ve laughed in my entire life. At some point, I’m pulled into Rex’s lap, his thumb finding a spot on the base of my spine that I didn’t even realize was aching until he called attention to it, rubbing the twinge in circles, and I sigh into his protective hold, no one seeming to find it odd that I’m being attended to by their brother in such an intimate manner.
Or at least, choosing not to comment on it.
Rex’s sisters poke at him endlessly, mostly about his fearsomeness, but their jokes clearly come from a place of love. They recognize what a treasure he is and it makes me love all five of them in return.
“Rex!” Priscilla trills now. “What did you bring me?”
He smiles against my temple. “I wrote you a song. Fetch my lute.”
A few minutes later, I’m staring in awe as Rex whips through an opening tune, his singing voice deep and resounding in the small house. “Priscilla, Priscilla, smells like a gorilla. After sixteen years, a bath wouldn’t kill ya…”
Rex’s youngest sister’s giggles and clear adoration of her brother are infectious and I’m wiping tears of mirth from my cheeks by the time he’s done singing the song.
“We have to dance,” announces Katrina, pulling me off Rex’s lap. “Come on, Queen Britta. The night isn’t complete until we’ve cut a rug.”
Rex starts another tune on his lute and I’m suddenly being swung around the living room, passed between sisters, twirled around and dipped. One song bleeds into the next until I lose track of how long we’ve been dancing. It’s not until the final song pinches out the final note that I notice how Rex is watching me. With desire. Urgency.
My body responds to his visible need, liquid heat trickling down to my loins, my breasts seeming to swell within the confines of my dress. I go to him, framing his face in my hands and he shudders at my touch, leaning into my palm. “Might we pass the night here?” I whisper. “I’m not ready to go back to the palace.”
“We will have to rise early, so I can bring you back before the palace wakes.”
I nod. “I understand.”
Rex starts to stand. “I will ask my sisters to share a room—”
“What about the stables?”
My guard stares at me like I’ve suggested we travel to the moon. “My queen is not sleeping in the stables.”
“But the queen wishes to sleep in the stables.”
“Britta…”
“Please? I’m enjoying being…normal. For once.” I slide my fingers into his hair, scraping his scalp with my fingernails, loving the way his eyes almost roll back in his head. “And Rex?”
His fingers curl in the hem of my dress, as if battling the need to pull me closer. “Yes, love.”
“I’d very much like you to join me in the stables.”
&n
bsp; 6
Rex
Has a man ever so eagerly approached his doom?
I arrange the blankets in the stall full of fresh hay, Britta leaning against the entrance, watching me. Watching me build the place that she’ll sleep. The honor of doing this for her feeds the new hunger inside me. A hunger that is specific to Britta. She wants something done and I make it happen, whether I like it or not. And I definitely don’t love the idea of her sleeping in hay on blankets unworthy of her soft skin, but I give the queen what she wants.
Doing so makes me hard.
Unbearably hard.
Just as watching her dance and laugh made me realize how much I love her.
I’ll love her until the day I leave this earth.
She is grace and kindness and light.
I’m trying not to dwell on the fact that things will change tomorrow. Of course they will. Two princes will arrive and no doubt vie for my beauty’s hand. Knowing what the morning will bring, it is going to be very difficult not to lay a claim tonight. My entire being is growling with jealousy and protectiveness and need. How am I going to make it these next several hours without making love to her? Just once. Just once to remember and replay endlessly forever.
“That looks perfect,” she says, her praise making my dick throb.
I glance back to find the queen disrobing.
Off comes the dress and slippers and stockings until she’s down to her slip.
That flimsy little slip that clings to her body, telling all of her secrets. Her nipples are in juicy points against the paper-thin fabric, the shadow of her pussy making my mouth water.
