by Alexis Angel
Never breaking our lips apart, he moves his hands to my breast, kneading them with his fingers. My back arches, and he welcomes their plumpness in his hands.
“I’m going to fucking worship you.” He pinches my sensitive hard nipple, and I squirm.
“Ah…that sounds lovely,” I tease him, and he twists my nipple between his fingers to punish me.
Hmmm…I like this game.
“I’m going to show you what it feels to be Queen.”
He lowers his mouth and replaces his hand over my breasts. He sucks my nipple, licking it ever-so-lightly, and mirrors his technique with my other hard bead.
The sensations of his mouth and fingers working me over simultaneously make me quiver. And he continues this torturous rhythm, but more creatively.
Nipping me, he moans, “Queen.” Then he licks me, saying, “Vivienne.” And lastly, he sucks, panting, “Lockridge.”
“Holy fuck,” I cry out, and then, he lowers his hand, inserting two fingers into my cunt.
“Fuck, yes. You’re so wet off the sound of your name,” he coos, and hits my G-spot jolting my body forward. “Me, too.”
His smile widens, and his fingers leave me.
It’s amazing how David can turn me on by saying my name. I never thought hearing it would have that effect on me, but, fuck, I guess becoming a Queen can do that to you.
Before I can catch my breath, his twelve-inches slams into me.
“Oh my God!” I scream and reach for him.
My cunt pools at the abruptness but expands to his girth. And my wetness welcomes him and coats his sensitive skin. He bends down and kisses me.
“God, your pussy feels so good. It was made for me.” The eroticism etched in his tone has my body trembling. “You were fucking made for me.”
“David, yes!” The fullness of him sends shock waves through me, and it kindles my nerves, the ones already raw and sensitive from before.
“I fucking love you,” he whimpers, pulling himself out. But I grind up against him, pushing him deeper into me.
Fuck, he’s so fucking big that it feels like he’s hitting my uterus. The depth of his cock tingles at first, feeling too full, but when he begins to move in and out, meeting my thrusts and grinding into me at an achingly steady pace, my core burns.
“I love you, David.” I moan, loudly.
I clutch his ass, digging my nails into it, and he winces.
“Did you forget? I do love ass play,” I tease, breathlessly.
He looks down at me, nose to nose, and he smirks. “You want more of me?” He reaches around me, finding my puckered hole, and circles it.
“Ahh…yes. All of you.”
“You’re so fucking amazing, Vivienne.”
Continuing his onslaught of pleasure—teasing my ass and fucking me senseless—I throw my head back and close my eyes, relishing every feeling and sensation coursing through my body. It’s overwhelming, but so fucking beautiful.
He inserts the tip of his finger in my ass. “I want you to be fucking filled with me.”
“God, yes.”
“You mean, King?” He winks and then inserts his full finger into my ass, as his dick pounds into my cunt.
“Oh, what a large ego you have,” I groan, and my body convulses, biting his shoulder to steady it.
“All the better to please you with…” he seethes, but a small chuckle escapes him. I feel his muscles tense underneath my skin, and I rock against him, wanting more of him, deeper and everywhere.
“David, come in me.”
He pulls his finger out of my ass and grabs one of my legs, draping it over his shoulder.
“Holy fuck.” The new position takes him in even further and hitting a new sweet spot. How is this even possible?
He rocks into me, harder and faster. His jaw clenches, and a bead of sweat forms at his hairline.
I reach for his chest, but with every thrust, a new wave of pleasure surges through me, knocking me back.
I reach my arms out, trying to grab something, and a handful of rose petals crumble between my fingers.
He lets go of my leg and falls back onto me. I grab his back, digging my nails into him, and the petals cascade down on us.0
He continues to thrust into me, and my pussy starts to pulse around him.
“I’m coming, David.”
With him on top of me, making love to me, I close my eyes and kiss him, long and hard.
“Come for me, love.”
And I do. My body stills, and every nerve in me explodes, thrashing violently through me. I shatter into a million pieces and lose all sense of self.
The pulsing of his cock stretches out my mind-numbing orgasm, but with a few sharp thrusts, he bursts inside me.
“Yes, come in me, David,” I beg.
And we come together.
Pumping inside, he fills me to the brim with his cum, and my pussy tightens around him, milking him dry.
We gradually descend from our orgasmic high, only to begin what will be the rest of our lives together.
Chapter 27
David
There’s something strange about standing in a church full of people who are, down to the last fucking second possible, still waiting for you to fuck up.
Jokes on you, motherfuckers. If there’s one thing that I’ll do right for the rest of my life, it’s Vivienne.
Oh, I’ll do her all kinds of right. Especially once the ceremony’s over and I’ve got her all to myself. I haven’t seen the dress yet—much less Vivienne in it—but somehow, that doesn’t stop me from imagining exactly how it’s going to look hiked up over her waist while I bend her over the cake table later.
It’s bad luck, of course, seeing the bride before the wedding. But imagining those long, slender legs of hers giving out while I stuff all twelve inches of royal man-meat into her pussy…
Well, if she looks even half as perfect as the cathedral where we’ll be saying our vows, my cock will end up splitting my tuxedo pants before I even get a chance to get my belt undone.
Everything looks perfect today actually, which is, I can assure you one hundred fucking percent Vivienne’s doing. If it wasn’t for the crowd of people staring me down like vultures waiting to go in for the kill, the whole shebang would be too immaculate to be real.
Which—what the fuck, actually? It’s like everyone’s still expecting me to parade strippers wearing only the flag of my great kingdom down the aisle in the place of bridesmaids and dish out vows so dirty the priest will excommunicate himself out of shame.
Haven’t I proven myself by now? I certainly think so—and, come on, I know you agree.
I’m a changed man now that I have Vivienne—for good.
Plus, it’s way too fucking far into the book for me to be pulling shit like that now. Come on, seriously. You know the drill.
If I was going to fuck this up, I would have done it eight chapters ago—and actually, come to think…I did.
But that’s behind us now.
If I still have amends to make, I’ll make them in the royal bedchamber to the sound of Vivienne moaning my name for the first time as my lawfully wedded wife.
Exactly how it should be.
I’m not about to fuck things up now.
When I see her…I swear to fucking Christ, I hear the seam of my trousers creak threateningly.
Ladies and gentlemen…my bride.
She looks perfect. She always looks fucking perfect. She could be walking down the aisle toward me in a goddamn potato sack—something that, in fact, I did suggest during some of the more agonizing days of dress fittings.
But it’s not about how she looks anymore. Not really. I’ll never get used to the way seeing her steals the breath right out of my fucking throat—that’s a given.
But she’s so much more than her sultry lips, curved into a smug little smile as she walks down the aisle toward me. She’s more than the sparkle in her eyes and the way her hair falls over her shoulders just so...
&nb
sp; As much as my past self might hate to admit it, she’s more than that gorgeous rack of hers, too—even though it looks so fucking fine in her gown that it ought to be a sin.
She’s the only woman who could ever put up with my bullshit.
The only woman who could ever make me better. Stronger. An improved man because of all of it.
Winning her love wasn’t fucking easy. I’m still not even sure that I deserve it. But if she’s willing to pledge it to me today…I’d be the world’s biggest fucking jackass if I didn’t accept it.
And, not to worry—I’ll be pledging mine right back, with my title and kingdom along for the ride.
“You’re staring,” Vivienne whispers as she comes to my side.
“Do you blame me?” I ask because if she does, she’s fucking insane.
Vivienne Taylor is a woman who was made to be stared at.
And I’m about to ensure that I can stare at her for every waking hour of the rest of my fucking life.
“Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” she asks me quietly as the priest begins the ceremony—and if I’m not mistaken, I think I see a flash of worry in her eyes.
I smile at her and take her hand in mine, squeezing it and pulling her a little closer so I can lower my lips to her ear.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my entire fucking life,” I promise her.
“No more partying? No more fucking around?”
“I never said that I’d give up partying,” I remind her. “Although, they’ll be a lot more enjoyable with you by my side.”
“And the fucking around?”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll fuck around plenty,” I tease. “With my wife—and only my wife. She’s a bit of a dirty slut for me, you see.”
“Mmm,” Vivienne begins, giggling. “I have heard that. Slutty enough to keep you loyal, though?”
“More than loyal,” I promise. “What I’m wondering is if she’s slutty enough to let me duck behind the altar with her after this is all over actually.”
“Bad,” she accuses—even though the way her eyes dart to the altar cloth tells me that she’s actually thinking about exactly how fucking good that would feel.
“As bad as repeatedly saying the word slutty in such a holy venue?”
“During our wedding, no less.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“Of that, my King,” Vivienne says with a smile, “I have no doubt.”
Chapter 28
Vivienne
All of the entertainment talk shows named our wedding kiss one of the greatest kisses of all time.
Admittedly, I wasn’t totally sold on the idea of having our wedding televised live—too much opportunity for wardrobe malfunctions and misspoken vows for my taste.
As soon as the clip of David passionately sticking his tongue down my throat started airing on the likes of Entertainment Tonight and The View, I only felt more vindicated in my reservations—but, alas, by that time it was too damn late.
Luckily, once the YouTube videos playing our kiss in a perfect twelve-hour long loop started popping up, I was officially desensitized to the entire thing. The way I figure, if horny preteens want to watch David and I making out before his family, country, church, and God for twelve hours straight, then the ladies of The View must be right—it was one hell of a kiss.
It felt like it, too.
One of the many benefits of being David’s bride and Queen is that I get to relive that same kiss over and over again every day for the rest of my life.
Best of all, now that the cameras are off…those kisses aren’t just limited to one set of my lips, either, if you know what I mean.
“Glass of champagne, my Queen?” David lowers me onto the bed and steals a few more kisses for good measure.
Ever since the wedding, we’ve barely been able to keep our lips off each other.
“Mm. You’re sweet, darling, but I think I’m thirsty for something a little…creamier. Saltier, too.”
I shift my hips beneath him and, easily convinced, David slides between my spread thighs.
Christ. He’s already hard. Before David, I’d never felt a man get so big and so hard so fast in my entire fucking life.
It’s a wonder that he doesn’t make himself pass out from pumping that much blood to his cock so fucking quickly.
But David is a wonder—in more ways than one, as it turns out.
“You know, it’s funny,” he ponders aloud as he nibbles on my collarbone. “You turned down champagne at the wedding reception as well.”
“I must not have been in the mood,” I purr, running my fingers through his hair.
“For all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never not been in the mood, love,” he points out. “You’ve been skipping wine at dinner, too.”
I narrow my eyes at him playfully. “If you’re so concerned about drinking habits, maybe you should, ah…”
I wiggle my hips suggestively beneath him, and his face lights up at the invitation.
“Drink from your chalice?”
Just like that, my skirt is on the fucking floor, and David is laying royal kisses on my pussy.
I have to admit...for someone who started out with so few social graces, he’s really come into his own when it comes to, well...making me come mostly.
Not that I’m complaining, of course. I knew that becoming David’s Queen would grant me a throne. I should have guessed that with a sex drive like his, more often than not, that throne would be his gorgeous face.
“Why don’t I do you one better?” he growls, laying a long, lingering lick on my pussy, from bottom to top. “I told you once that I intended to breed you, Vivienne…”
I smile down at him, pressing my lips tightly together like I’m trying to hold in a secret…because that’s exactly what I’m doing.
“Give me an heir,” he commands, looking lustful and passionate as ever. “And stop smirking like that.”
“Smirking like what?”
“Like you know something that I don’t.” David sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of my inner thigh, making me squeal and hiss in desire and delight.
Well…I suppose I couldn’t have hidden it for much longer anyway.
Our wedding kiss was incredible—but the talk shows are going to need new material soon anyway.
“I’m already pregnant,” I admit, licking my lips and pulling him on top of me. “Your little stint in the ballroom, I think—oh!”
As fast as David is at getting me out of my clothes, when it comes to getting his cock out, he’s even faster. His cock presses against the warm wetness of my pussy, threatening to enter me any moment and letting me relive those gorgeous hours on his ballroom floor all over again.
“My Queen,” he growls, just like the beast he is.
“My King,” I purr back. “You won’t get me more pregnant by giving me an encore, you know.”
“Shame,” he teases, kissing the corners of my lips. “But now that my kingly duties have been fulfilled…I can focus on my husbandly duties instead.”
His cock presses into me, stiff and throbbing and already soaked with his precum and my honey—just an inch.
I fucking whimper.
Just an inch. My husband—and my King—is just that fucking good.
“What…ohhh. Fuck. What might those entail?”
Another inch. My fingernails press into the back of his neck while I clutch at the sheets with my free hand—silken, luxurious, and fit for a King, just as promised.
“Making you come, first off,” David says with a chuckle—obviously amused at how well my body is responding to even just a few of his ample inches. “Then…hmm. It depends on what my wife desires, I suppose.”
“Darling,” I say with a grin, stealing another inch of him with a rough buck of my hips. “You’ve given me your love…your child... your throne…what more could I ask for?”
“Nine more inches, for starters.”
David grins like the cocky, ar
rogant madman he is and thrusts inside me, hard and deep, hilting the royal man meat into my pussy and making me moan like a fucking whore.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
“Oh, I’ll get to that next,” David says with a laugh, pressing a conquering kiss against my lips. “Don’t you worry about that.”
He moves inside me, more gently than maybe he would have before—there is, after all, a baby on board, so to speak.
But when it comes to ruling over my body, my pleasure and most of all, my orgasms, David has always been—and always will be—every bit the King that his title declares him to be.
And as far as crowning achievements go…becoming Queen of his country might look nice on my resume, but my real pride is becoming Queen of his heart.
So, as all twelve inches of my husband’s cock go to work on my pussy, I can’t help thinking that this happily ever after is about to get a lot happier.
You know what they say…
Long live the King.
Take A Sneak Peek Of...
The King's Virgin Bride
A Royal Wedding Novella
By Natalie Knight
Copyright 2018 by Crimson Vixens
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.
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Edward
The best fucking thing about being King of Amore?
I can have any goddamn woman in this room that I want.
The only problem?
I’m supposed to announce my engagement to the boring, prissy, title-grabbing cow otherwise known as Ignora Bingsley-Doopenhorf tonight. I’m meant to wrap my big, strong hand around her bony, clammy talons and pronounce her my fiancée, future wife—and future queen.
But I don’t want Ignora Bingsley-Doopenhorf, no matter how much fucking money her father is willing to pour into the royal charities in order to make his daughter a queen.
