The King's Virgin Bride: A Royal Wedding Novella (Royal Weddings Book 1)

by Natalie Knight

  I suck harder and faster on Lucas’ cock and feel him grow with each thrust in and out of my mouth. It takes eight more thrusts before he unloads his cum into me. I feel it build inside his balls and shoot into me.

  At the same time, my hips contract and I push up to meet Oliver’s lips and tongue. Giant explosions intermingle with tingling sensations and the world loses its focus. Heat rushes through me faster than a grassfire and I feel my body shudder with pleasure.

  Lucas pulls out of me and the last bit of creamy cum drips onto my breasts and chest.

  I see him collapse on the bed next to me.

  It takes me a few minutes before I stop writhing with pleasure. It takes a few more minutes before I realize Oliver’s rock-hard and is pointing his bouncing fucking cock at me.

  “You don’t think you’re getting off that easy, do you?”

  Without waiting for a reply, he rolls me onto my abdomen.

  “Onto all fours,” he commands, and I push myself up.

  My ass is now pointing straight at him.

  Each and every one of my nerve cells is tingling in anticipation. Oliver’s fingers are painting on my ass. He’s picking up my own juices with his index finger before drawing imaginary works of art on each ass cheek.

  Already, I’m horny and more juices are flowing.

  Could you have too much fucking pleasure? Had anyone ever died from too much pleasure? I try and rummage through all that fucking useless information one accumulates over time. I draw a blank.

  It’s not as if I don’t have plenty of useless information rattling around in my brain. For some strange reason, I recall useless statistics. Right now, I remember that higher income earning people prefer toilet paper to come over the roll, while those on lower income prefer it to go under.

  Fucking useless fact. Why would anyone even bother to research such fucking useless statistics? Surely it doesn’t assist in anything, knowing how people like to hang their toilet rolls? It wouldn’t help sell toilet paper either.

  My random thought process is interrupted with Oliver’s finger working on my ass. Instinctively my hole tightens, as do my muscles in close vicinity.

  “Come on baby cakes, relax.” Oliver whispers in my ear as he kisses my neck and nibbles on my earlobe.

  Shivers run down my spine. I push my ass against his body.

  The tip of his dick’s right at my hole, teasing me. He runs all of the tip around the outside and I feel myself relax, despite my reluctance.

  “You want it,” whispers Oliver over and over into my ear and it echoes in my mind.

  I barely register Lucas slide in under my body. It is only when his hands play with my dangling tits do I notice he’s changed position.

  His cock’s also sprung to life again.

  How fucking amazing is this?

  And then without any further fucking warning, Oliver pushes into me, stretching open in the process. He proceeds slowly and gently at first, but then lust grabs a hold of him and he pushes right into me.

  He starts pumping. The sound of his balls slapping against my ass cheeks add to the other sounds of heavy breathing, moaning and groaning.

  A symphony of pleasurable sound fills the room and again I take a little detour in my thoughts. Had anyone ever recorded just the sounds of people fucking? It would make for an interesting recording.

  Oliver fucks me harder and faster.

  His hands are working with my fleshy ass. He’s massaging and kneading until it hurts.

  Pleasure, pain, lust and more; a bouillabaisse of emotions floods me right now. Any second I might fucking explode.

  I’m swept down the river of fucking excitement.

  At first, I’m not sure what Lucas has in mind, but it does not take long for me to catch on.

  He’s pushing on my hips. He wants to pull me down. He wants to pull me onto his fucking massive cock.

  OMG.

  Fuck.

  He wants to enter my fucking pussy while Oliver’s fucking my other hole. I arch my lower back to meet Lucas and his dick.

  Gently, he enters me. I feel me being stretched far beyond my limit, and yet he keeps pushing. Oliver pulls out a little and then Lucas is in and Oliver comes back.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Two cocks inside at the same time.

  My fingernails dig into Lucas’ hips. He finds his own rhythm and starts pummeling into me.

  Oliver catches up with our pace and I shiver in delight.

  This is un-fucking-believable.

  Who’d have thought I’d be fucking two guys at the same time?

  Wow.

  If Greg could see me now, fuck he’d be so fucking jealous.

  Part of me can’t believe what’s fucking happening to me. It’s like I’ve landed in my own fucking fairy tale. A fairy tale with no kings and princess, but fucking billionaire Greek gods.

  Growing up in a home, this was too fucking good to be true. It was like a fairy tale—one I never imagined—one a girl would never read about, but it was still a fairy tale.

  The best part though is that it isn’t all fucking sex. There have been some fucking fantastic moments with them. Some of the highlights creep into my mind. We’ve really connected with each other. Each of them brings something different to the relationship, and yet somehow, they’re also the same in a lot of ways.

  Fuck.

  Stop fucking thinking bad girl Sofie, if you keep it up good girl Sofie might want to make a fucking come back. Just enjoy the mind-blowing fuck these two guys are giving you.

  The walls of my pussy are starting to contract and grab Lucas’ dick harder each time he thrusts into me. His already massively oversized fucking thick cock is getting bigger with each of his thrusts.

  How that is even possible is beyond me.

  At the same time, Oliver is ramming into my hole faster and faster. It’s so fucking tight, but at the same time I can’t get enough of his fucking huge cock inside of me. It rubs my inner walls so good.

  I arch my back to try and meet Lucas as he thrusts.

  Stars are appearing before my eyes and my thought process slows down until it stops all together. I just focus on the pleasure I’m feeling, coursing through my body.

  Inside my tight fucking ass, I can feel Oliver’s orgasm. He’s shooting load after fucking load of cum into me and when I feel it run down my legs, I’m swept away in my own orgasm. My insides go from fucking tingling to burning and fire rips through me. Volcano-like, I erupt and molten lava follows the fire.

  With my pussy pulsing, Lucas is unable to hold off any longer and he also starts shooting his cum into me.

  “Fuck. Sofie.” He growls, and I feel his fucking lips on my tit. His teeth find my nipple and bites it.

  Ouch.

  More pleasure rips through me.

  It takes me several minutes to recover from this all mighty orgasm. Little aftershocks rip through me and Oliver is now lying next to me.

  Lucas’ fucking cock is still inside of me, throbbing. He seems to be reveling in his own after shocks.

  Our bodies are sweaty, lying next to each other.

  Wow.

  Lucas now pulls out of me and to my surprise pushes himself downward. I roll over.

  He starts gently licking me.

  The after shock I thought has concluded continues. With each lick of his tongue around my pussy, the tingling increase and it is as if little electric pulses are travelling through me.

  Oliver, obviously not wanting to be left behind, uses his tongue to clean me around the inside of my leg.

  All this attention is almost bringing me to another fresh orgasm all together.

  I feel hot. I still feel fucking horny.

  Is it possible I’ve turned into some kind of sex maniac? Do such people exist? Could you have too much sex? Perhaps I’ll have to start attending sex anonymous. The thought makes me laugh. Instead of AA meetings I’d be going to SA meetings.

  Almost of their own accord, my hands explore my own bo
dy and start playing with my tits. I let my nipples run through my index finger and thumb and pull and pinch them.

  “Yeah, that’s it Sof. Keep going,” encourages Lucas but I need no further encouragement.

  The harder I pull and pinch the more pleasure seeps through me.

  By now Lucas is not only cleaning me from my own fucking juices and their combined remaining cum, no, he’s also starting to make sure I’ll get to come again.

  His tongue is inside of me. He pushes, licks and prods. He does it expertly and it doesn’t take too long before I feel myself come again. It’s not as full on and violent as before, but it’s fucking delicious.

  Oliver and Lucas lie beside me.

  I grab each of their hand.

  They roll onto their side to face me.

  “Do you think we punished her enough?” Lucas is grinning at Oliver.

  Oliver smiles and looks me straight into the eyes.

  “I don’t know. She’s still got that rule breaking smile on her face.”

  I raise an eyebrow. Rule breaking me? I don’t think so.

  “I—” I start, but instead of saying something, I lean forward and push my lips onto Oliver’s. I let my tongue explores his mouth. He responds.

  Then I pull away and kiss Lucas.

  When I release him, I grin at both of them.

  “I think I saw a giant hot tub in the bathroom.” I say and leap off the bed. As I saunter in the direction of the bathroom, I make sure I sway my ass from side to side.

  I glance backwards to gauge their reaction. From the fucking half erect cocks my eyes feast on, I know exactly what they’re going to be doing.

  With a satisfied smile, I start to skip to the hot tub.

  “Why don’t you bring the champagne?” I call over my shoulder and disappear in the bathroom.

  It takes less than ten seconds for my willing slaves to appear.

  Lucas

  I think I got the habit from my folks and from watching Mr. McElroy across the road. At 6:30 a.m. every morning, rain or shine, Mr. McElroy would come out of his house to retrieve the newspaper from his lawn. He was a nice man who gave me candy every time I saw him.

  I am never ever late. It’s my trademark. I always arrive before the appointed hour, maybe a minute or two, but when I am needed somewhere I am always on time.

  Like saying “Please” and “Thank you”, this habit’s been instilled in me for a very long time. And I fucking can’t stand people being fucking late.

  Not today though. I drive slowly, too fucking slowly. I don’t care. Today’s special.

  I miss the lights and have to wait. I don’t care. The old man wearing a felt hat and driving a sensible Honda in front of me is driving so slowly I could get out and walk faster. Every other day I’d be breaking my neck to overtake and I’d be fucking swearing. But not today.

  I wait for a break in the traffic and cruise past him, but I’ll still be late... Elijah will be there already. And I don’t fucking care.

  I look at my watch. I am a full five minutes behind schedule. I don’t fucking care.

  Love will do that to you. You just float and time takes care of itself.

  After I park my fucking car, I sit and stare for what seems like a fucking eternity. There’s a song I want to listen to on the radio. It also allows me to replay some of last night’s fucking highlights, and boy were there many highlights to replay.

  I allow myself a lazy stretch and pull the key out of the ignition once the song finishes.

  With a spring in my step, I head into our building and go to where the great man will be.

  I come into the office to find Elijah.

  He is drinking coffee and looking at his watch. He doesn’t see me at first but, when he turns, his face lights up in recognition.

  He says, “Oh, hi there. Here comes the afternoon shift.”

  “Oh, yeah, hi,” I say. I feel like I’m talking to him from way above the clouds.

  Elijah is not going to let it go.

  “Some people call this the night shift, you know.” He looks at his watch again. It’s a deliberate move. He’s trying to make more than a point. He’s making a fucking statement.

  But I don’t fucking care. Did I mention I don’t care?

  “So what kept you? You’re never late. Been busy then?” he says with that ‘I know exactly what’s been going on’ look all over his face.

  “Such a late night,” I say without thinking.

  “Uh-huh. I thought so. Sofie, right? You were with Sofie.”

  I hear the statement but answer it like it’s a question anyway. No fucking point denying what went on last night. We all know what’s going on.

  “Hoo yeah,” I say like I have just taken a straight swig of the smoothest bourbon ever made. “Hoo yeah. And Oliver was there, too.”

  I’m so full of the night before that I forget Elijah is not exactly a stranger to that sort of encounter. I back up.

  “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to be blasting that all over the neighborhood.”

  “Go right ahead,” he says. “I know exactly where you are coming from.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Only if you tell me Sofie wasn’t happy. She’s happy, I’m happy. That’s the way it works for me. But what about Oliver—that doesn’t bother you?”

  Do I mind? I pause. I think. I asses.

  “You know what? It doesn’t bother me one little bit. I’m surprised to say it, but no, it’s just not a fucking bother at all. As a matter of fact, I think you and I are on the same page about that. No, wait, we are on the same paragraph.”

  The smell of Eli’s coffee makes me crave one, too. I wonder if I could get one before we talk business.

  He smiles, and I mimic him. What else can two guys do when words cannot cover how glad they feel? It’s like watching the perfect touchdown. There’s nothing else for it. We go high five, thumbs, knuckles and upright wrist round the corner hand clasp.

  “Man, I tell you,” I say, “I’ve fallen hard for that girl. I don’t think there’s a happier guy than me in the entire world.”

  “Back up, Sparky,” Elijah says. “That goes for you and me both. That girl has gone and gotten me smitten...”

  “You suppose Oliver feels that way, too?” I ask.

  “If that guy does not feel the same way we do, man, he’s got a problem and I can’t help him with that,” Elijah says, his smile growing wider by the minute.

  His eyes have gone all dreamy, like he’s remembering something very, very pleasing. I’m pretty sure I know what he’s thinking.

  Elijah has got some coffee brewing and notices me looking at it.

  “Want some?” he asks.

  I nod and he fills me a cup.

  “But Houston, we still have a problem,” I say as I take a sip. It’s fucking good coffee.

  Some people don’t like strong coffee. I do. And thank fucking goodness, so does Eli. Why people bother drinking that half-strong shit is beyond me. I mean if you’re not going to get your full blast of fucking caffeine, why bother?

  If you don’t like the strong stuff, don’t insult the barista. Become a teetotaler.

  “A problem?” he asks as he refills his cup.

  My thoughts return to the here and now.

  I look at Eli. “Remember fucking loser Greg? The one who wanted to dump the most exquisite girl on this planet?”

  “I might’ve heard about it, but I’ve probably forgotten. I can’t help losers so, no point remembering their names,” he says, but I know he’s lying.

  Eli never ever forgets a name, particularly of someone who’s wronged someone he likes.

  And he likes Sofie; ergo, he more than remembers this fucking loser.

  “He’s back in the scene. Bad case of realizing too late that he had let go of the best thing that ever happened to him, and now he wants to make Sofie’s life crap. Thinks he’s entitled to the girl.”

  “There’s always a jerk in every situation,” Elijah
says, blowing over the top of his coffee.

  He seems calm, but it’s that sort of calm you don’t mess with. I can tell he is furious and if Greg was within reach—what can I say? There would be blood.

  “One jerk who spoils it for everyone. The jerk that never gets it,” he says and takes a long slow sip. The air has that sort of ‘someone is going to get hurt’ atmosphere in it.

  “You get it, I get it, and Oliver gets it. This is about making Sofie happy,” I say.

  The coffee’s good, so I drink it all.

  “And then there’s butt-head Greg,” says Elijah summing it up.

  “Butt-head Greg.” It’s like the first punch has been thrown, but there’s just something about the way he snaps the three accurate monosyllables together that breaks me up.

  I see Greg’s head in my mind and he has “Butt-Head” written across his forehead. The thought is hilarious. I get the coffee down without spraying it everywhere, causing me to break into an almighty coughing fit.

  Okay, it’s simple and it’s dumb, but there’s something so accurate about the term that cracks me up. I’m coughing and laughing at the same time, and it’s one of those crazy situations where you laugh at nothing and it just takes off, infecting the guy next to you.

  Elijah starts laughing too and asks, “What’s so funny?”

  I have tears in my eyes and can hardly speak, but I manage to squeak out, “Butt-head. Butt-head Greg,” and next thing I know Elijah is laughing, too.

  We repeat “Butt-head Greg” a few more times in between roars and cackles of laughter. What a sight we must make.

  What can I say? We both love the same girl so much it hurts. Now we’re laughing at the dumbest three words about the dumbest butt-head in the world, and it’s so hilarious my sides are hurting.

  Greg might need some hurting, too. Sometimes one must share the pain, after all. I know three guys who are into sharing. Life’s good.

  “Should we come up with a fucking plan or what?” Funny as it is, we will need to deal with the fucking butt-head. It might pay to be prepared.

  Eli considers my words, his frown indicative of a man who’s thinking deeply.

  Eventually, he shakes his head.

  “Let’s wait till fucking butt-head makes another fucking move.”