by Holly Gunn
“And I am your queen,” she says, gritting the phrase through her teeth. The truth is we don’t know this yet, but we both hope it to be true. We won’t know, possibly for months.
“Why then are you asking after Heavy?”
Her eyebrows fall and she bites her inner lip.
I want to bite her lips. I want inside her mouth again. I want to take my tongue to those lips, then to places inside of her never touched by tongues or at the very least, never touched by my tongue.
“My roommates all have marks.”
My eyes round. I am entirely unable to hide my expression.
“All of them?” I ask. “But that’s five of you.”
She nods. “Yes, five potential queens.”
“You know there are other kings in the U.S. other than L.A., Elizabeth?” I ask her gently, thinking strangely that it’s odd she thinks they will all be queens to the kings of L.A., of which there are only four.
She purses her lips and nods, but I can see it pains her to even think of this. “I know.” She shrugs and takes a sip of her white wine. “I just think it would be cool if things didn’t change that much and we could all still see each other all the time.”
I see she wants that deeply.
I reach across the table and gently pull one of her hands to me. I use my fingers to feather across her soft, pale skin, but my eyes hold hers.
I wait until I think she’s ready.
“You don’t like change,” I surmise.
She shakes her head in the negative and exhales, looking to my fingers lazily caressing her before I see those pretty dark brown eyes again.
“You wish for things to be the same for always.”
She nods.
“You think if you all find your kings that things will change too much, too fast. We only have thirty days. It is not a long time. It feels like an eternity at times, the days, months, and years dragging as we bide our time.”
Something else enters her eyes as she leans closer, but still, she nods. I know she reads my other meaning when her eyes soften on me.
“You have waited a long time for your king, but you’ve also been biding time, not letting yourself soar entirely, not giving yourself to anything completely because giving means losing.”
There is no nodding. She puts her drink down and reaches across the table with her other hand. She lets me caress the one I’ve already commandeered, but she holds tightly to the one she’s just latched onto.
“Be that as it may, you want to soar, do you not?”
A tear escapes her brightening eyes. I want to taste it. I want to taste her from head to toe.
“You can’t go with the flow, not entirely,” she whispers, “when half of you is missing.”
I shake my head and close the distance between us at our tiny table. At the very least, it’s tiny to a man who is six and a half feet tall. The set of hands that are entwined, I lift and hold to her face. Even with her face covered in a film of makeup, the feel of her skin is a silken dream. She closes her eyes at the touch.
“You are as you have always been. Your friends are as they have always been. I am as I have always been. The point of kings and queens aren’t to fulfill each other. They are meant to complement one another, Elizabeth. I can help you soar, but don’t ignore what is right in front of you.” She slowly opens her eyes. “You are already soaring. But if you need to believe that I am your wings, I don’t mind taking up that mantle for the time being.”
Her face is searching, her grip held tightly to my own, her other hand fluttering against the table as I continue to caress it. The fluttering is a beat all her own.
I feel like a hypocrite in saying these things because I cannot deny that while she may think I am her wings, I won’t share that I believe her to be the beat bringing my heart back to life.
It would defeat the purpose of what I just shared.
She is perfect just as she is.
That does not mean I don’t wish to be needed.
And if there is one thing I can give her, it’s the opportunity to soar in truth.
“I’m taking you somewhere,” I proclaim suddenly. I call for the nearest server. “We’ll need our steaks wrapped and also, can you make sure to add two chocolate cheesecakes to our order? It would be much appreciated.”
The server nods, smiling and accepts the twenty I slip into his hand.
“Just like that?” she asks, laughing lightly, and I sense, with excitement.
“You won’t want to miss this, Elizabeth.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “I have a feeling that, if given a chance, I won’t miss out on anything with you in my life.”
I don’t know what to say to this. She’s managed to make me feel ten feet tall and also colossally worried—because I know I can do nothing else but give her everything.
“I will endeavor to try and give you everything you desire.”
She shakes her head, and I study her.
“No, Eagle. You don’t get it. But you will.”
I have no doubt.
For the date, I chose to use the Lexus LS 500 F Sport. I have two. One in silver. One in black. Both in my name.
My father telling me I’m not welcome at the mansion is not a loss. I might have lived there up until Saturday evening, but I have a top floor condo in the city and my own underground garage with space for seven vehicles though I only own four.
The Lexus’ are my prizes.
This may not say much about me, but I value their speed, their simple form, their smooth shifts, and the fact that they have all-wheel drive. They aren’t for off-roading. I have a Land Rover for such pursuits. My Lexus vehicles also aren’t for a top down weekend, driving the PCH in my 1967 Porsche 912 Coupe, something I decidedly want to do with Elizabeth, just to watch her hair whipping in the wind and her face flush with the pink.
Tonight, the black Lexus is what’s taken us to closer mountains than Bear mountain, the San Gabriel range.
“I’ve never been to Baldy,” she says as we park and she closes up her food container.
When I first picked her up, she looked at the car as though she was afraid to touch it.
Then I took the first corner and had her smiling.
She did the same when the valet brought my car back around. She clammed up like she promptly remembered who she was on a date with.
I cannot be anything other than who I am. I happen to have money, and I want to show her that this does not mean I’m ungentlemanly, rude, and accustomed to acting like those such as Vera.
The drive up the mountainside is better because I open up the food before we start to drive, and we spend the next two hours enjoying a meal on the go in a car that’s seen worse than melt in your mouth steaks with Grizz, Snake, and Heavy in it, stealing glances of one another, trading stories, and I smile more than I have in the whole of my almost thirty-one years. The reason the drive is also better is because she finally relaxes. She doesn’t just see a suit or a Have-not as she views it. She sees me. Eagle Fitzwilliam Ambustus.
“You’ve never been to Mt. Baldy? You’re in for a treat.”
She smiles and takes the containers with her.
I tell her, “Hold on a moment,” then proceed to the other side of the car and open her door for her.
I did this for her when I picked her up, when we dropped the car off with the valet, and then when the valet brought the car back around.
“I could get used to door-to-door service,” she mutters, and I know she means it as a jest.
I do not.
“You will,” I reply seriously.
She glances up at me from beneath those full eyelashes. I might miss the soft, feathery look of her natural lashes, but even now, that look gets me hard.
Not good when I’m about to help her soar.
I take the containers from her hands and throw them in the various bins, one for food, another for paper, another for plastic.
Just because I’m rich doesn't mean I shouldn’
t be conscientious.
“So, I’ve always wanted to come here, but what are we doing exactly?”
I grasp her hand and pull her to the edge of the parking lot. No one is around, at least that I can smell.
“I’m going to help you soar, Elizabeth.”
Her hand goes to her mouth, and she gasps as I shift into the fully-shifted form of my eagle.
I land next to her. It’s not just my wingspan that is unnaturally large.
Elizabeth moves forward with caution. I wait patiently.
When her fingers ruffle through my feathers, her delicate movements enchant me. I want those fingers to find my human skin, to touch me as I enter what I’m sure is a tight, wet, beautiful pussy. I want to be inside her mind, her skin, her body in every way I can be.
“You said you’re going to help me soar … You mean flying, right?”
I nod my eagle head, and she grins.
“How?”
I lower my belly to the ground, ducking my head.
“On your back?” she asks incredulously.
I want to laugh. I tilt my head and point with my beak to my back.
“Why not just lift me with your talons by my arms?”
Is she mad? That would scar her. If not permanently, because she’s a witch, at least temporarily. I will never mar her in such a way. That being said, the eagle king does mar his mate once with a mark of his talons, but that is not what this is. The safest place for her is on my back.
I’m more insistent as I point with my beak.
“Okay, okay. Chill, Eagle.”
It takes her a few tries, and I realize part of the problem is she doesn’t want to hurt me with her heels. I’m tougher than that. She still throws them. When she is finally securely on my back, I lift into the air.
I hear her loud gasp and take us higher.
Her body leans forward and she takes the opportunity to yell into the wind, “I’m afraid of heights.”
I squawk. A few minutes later she yells, her voice full of awe, “But I’d never miss this. Thank you, Eagle.”
We go higher.
We soar.
Most importantly, Elizabeth soars.
I am but a vessel.
She’s alive up here, finally free in a way I know she’s been afraid of. My future queen wants others to believe she’s entirely secure in her skin, and in many ways, she is. But in other ways, she is just as lost as everyone else. I want nothing more than to spend the years we have together watching her learn how to soar in every situation.
I want to watch her show the Haves there is never enough of the good things in life and to keep reaching.
I want to watch her show the Have-nots what they’re missing, and to realize when she meets each one, that Have-nots are as much Haves as anyone else. They’re individuals trying to figure out how to be themselves in a world that seeks to make them the same as everyone else.
I want to watch her be the Elizabeth I know she’s always been, but that she’s been hiding, afraid of the hurt or betrayal she might experience.
We land back on the ground, and she slides from my back, but she doesn't stop moving.
She twirls around in a circle, and by the time she’s gone around three times, I am in my human form again, fully clothed as happens when we shift.
She falls forward into my arms, her face alive.
“That … was … abso-fucking-lutely … the … most … amazing … experience … of my life!”
I reach down to touch her cheek, noticing that her tears from the wind and maybe the brush of rain from up in the clouds have washed some of her makeup away. I touch soft, pure skin.
“I’m proud to have been able to give that to you, Elizabeth.”
She watches my lips speak, and I know her thoughts. They are mine as well.
My mouth is on hers before either of us can utter another word.
My hands reach for her hips, and I pull her body against mine.
I’m hard, and I want her to feel my desire, to know of my want for her.
She lifts up, gripping my shoulders with her fingertips, just as earlier that day when I kissed her for the first time.
Those fingers digging into my shoulder burn through me, urging me to take her body, to make it mine, to claim her as my queen.
I manage to disengage before I take our moment too far.
“We must stop,” I inform her, my voice rough with my need.
“Why?” she asks, digging her fingers in deeper and bouncing on her feet once before throwing her hips around me. Full, thick thighs. One of my greatest wishes. Those thighs surrounding me. Her teeth nip at my lips and I take her mouth again, my tongue slipping inside her wet mouth. I push my way in, take control, move my hands to her full behind, grabbing onto it and feeling the moan she gives me down to my cock.
“Why?” she asks again. “I want you, Eagle. I need you.”
I’m lost.
I want to be needed by Elizabeth.
And I have made a vow to always give her what she needs, what she wants, if it is in my power. What is in my power to give, is myself.
I carry her toward the Lexus and gently lay her against the hood. I know my face is pained at the sight because it so resembles my fantasy of her lying across the gleaming wood of my desk.
It’s a kind of pain I would gladly experience over and over, however, because it’s one that slides through me like a knife through butter, drawing my balls up and hardening my cock.
I start to undo the zipper at the front of her dress, but I do it slowly, watching each tooth of the zipper come undone as it reveals pure, silky skin.
When it’s down to the cleavage of her small breasts, I put my lips to the crevice at the bottom of her neck, tasting the supple flesh there.
Then the zipper starts to lower again, and I follow the line it takes with my tongue, with my lips, with a mouth that wants nothing but to savor every flavor she has to offer.
When I reach her breasts, I lose all control, and that’s because I don’t realize until this moment that she’s not worn a bra with her dress this evening. There are small pieces of fabric stuck to her nipples.
I remove them one-by-one with my teeth, and I enjoy the shuddering of her body beneath me, the taut muscles of her thighs flexing around me.
I thrust my pants-covered cock against her core, and her moan vibrates around me.
The zipper finishes its trek at the hem of her dress.
I pull it apart and reveal her body to me.
I look down the line of her until I see a pair of sheer black underwear, which in the moonlight and with my shifter sight allows me to see the lips of her pussy, wet and ready for me.
“Beguiling,” I whisper. “You are beguiling.”
I take in the line of her body and catch her bright eyes, one tear sliding down her cheek. I swiftly move up to her face and lick at it, taking it in and tasting the beauty of her tears.
Just as suddenly, I shift her legs and pull her panties from her. I spread her legs, put them over my shoulders, and have the pleasure of watching her try to find purchase with her hands on the hood of the Lexus. She settles for holding onto my head.
I smile against her pussy.
I twist and nip, tug and pull, devour and lave.
She’s heating up, her body writhing, her bare feet digging into the muscles of my back, her hips jerking up to meet my thrusting tongue.
Her moans stutter. Silence. Then, like the queen of rhythm she is, she repeats this. Moan, stutter, silence. Moan, stutter, silence. Over and over as she comes. Even her orgasms have a tattoo, a beat that they naturally follow.
I ring every note out of her.
I’m up and positioned over her body, my jacket off, my shirt ripped free of my trousers, my zipper undone, and my cock free of its confines before she’s entirely recovered.
Then, my cock slides home.
When I’m inside her, the rhythm is more. It’s astounding, beautiful, exquisite.
I ge
ntly take her body, follow her thriving rhythm, as each thrust is driven from my very soul.
So, it might be gentle, but she will feel me inside her for hours.
I intend to have her body again later. In fact, I never want to leave this pussy, never want my cock to be snug inside anything but her.
I move my gaze to her face and I reach perfection.
Her arms are spread out like wings, holding onto the small crevices between the window and the hood, her red dress still on but not hiding anything, her eyes on me, watching me as I drive my hips against hers over and over again, happy to keep this pace for all eternity.
My cock, however, is not.
Her pussy ripples around me, gripping my cock tautly, sucking me in deeper, and she moans, stutters, and gives me silence over and over, as I, too, ride the straight edge of an orgasm that bursts out of me on a long groan.
She is not the only one who soars.
I do too.
And my heart beats strongly through my flight.
10
Eagle
I wake to the sight of the most beautiful woman in the world—and my chest tingling.
L.A. is next it seems.
I get up slowly and stare at my reflection in the mirror, verifying my thoughts.
My tattoo has gone dark. In most cases, a king’s tattoo is black when it goes dark. Mine is a deep red.
It is not unheard of; a tattoo being colored. Nevertheless, no matter the color, the sight of it makes me proud, fills me with confidence.
My body turns back to my bed, and I have the satisfaction of seeing my queen lying there.
We drove down the mountain after I made love to her, and we barely cleared the door before I was grasping her hand and dragging her to my bed. The touch of her hand over mine as I shifted through the winding roads back to L.A. had me ready to take her again.
I’d followed her to the mattress.
Our clothes were removed quickly, and for the first time, I took her body, both of us completely nude, skin to skin in every way. Hers glistening under the light of the moon shining through the window, my heart beating in time with her own unique magic.
I entered her body, and that time, in the heat of our passion, I couldn’t control my response. My talons released and I marked her in the way an Eagle marks his mate.
