Long Live Queen Perry: Contemporary Reverse Harem (Kingdom of Veronia Book 3)

by Serena Akeroyd

  “What is it with you and rimming?” she demanded on a huff.

  “I’m a curious creature, Perry. Didn’t you know?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’d totally freak out if I went anywhere near your ass.”

  Edward laughed, and the sound was so much lighter than he’d sounded mere moments before—proof, yet again, that she could and would bring ease to his world, a notion that filled her with contentment.

  The way he needed her was something she couldn’t begin to even describe, and yet…it was so empowering. To know, and to have just had it confirmed, that yes, she was his life…

  God, she’d never known anything like it.

  “She has you there,” Edward joked. “You would freak out.”

  “I might not. Perry’s different,” George grumbled.

  “How? Are my fingers and tongue bright blue or something?”

  “They might as well be. You’re definitely from another planet in other ways.”

  “He knows how to charm the panties right off you, doesn’t he?”

  Perry waited a second, then with as much sultriness as she was capable of—which, admittedly, wasn’t much—murmured, “I’m not wearing any panties.”

  She had to bite back a grin when the two of them looked at one another, their gazes batting back and forth like a spectator at a Venus vs. Serena Williams tennis match.

  Before either of them could say a word, she hopped off Edward’s lap and danced away from George, who sprang forward and tried to catch her hand. She dashed off to the bedroom, turned back to stare at them, and winked.

  “Well?” she demanded, and laughed when they both came chasing after her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Seeing Perry’s fine ass dance just out of his line of sight had George’s gaze arrowing on her behind like it was painted with crosshairs.

  Her lush curves had thinned over the past few months, and the truth was, he was looking forward to her rounding out once more. She was pregnant now, which changed things on so many levels. Not just where her security was concerned—the principle topic the three of them had been discussing when she’d wandered in on their conversation. But on this front, too.

  George wondered how it would change her, and looked forward to seeing her grow ripe with their child.

  He’d never thought about having kids. Never really had the chance to imagine they’d be doing it this way—Big Love style. But the truth was, he wouldn’t wish it any other way. His stress levels were already through the roof, and knowing Xavier and Edward had his back was a lifesaver.

  His mouth watered as she half-turned and cheekily crooked her finger at them. He let out a joking growl that had her dashing forward and giggling as she went. He grinned and took off after her, leaving Edward to make his way at a more sedate pace—that was his brother all the way. Sedate, steady, until the time came and he’d turn into an animal.

  George supposed it was weird that, when this situation with Perry had come to mind, he’d dreamed of sharing her with Edward. Yet, in all the months they’d been together, he’d yet to do that. This would be the first time, but sure as hell not the last.

  When he made it into the bedroom and saw she wasn’t on the huge four poster bed, he quickly took in the room at large. He had imagined spending hours with his wife and brother atop that mattress at some point— and now, that was about to happen.

  He intended to explore this woman that was his wife in everything but the law.

  Even by name, after all, she was his—the perks of her marrying his brother.

  The royal blue suite had been dampened down some. Before, it had looked something like a room in the Palace of Versailles. Grand ceilings painted with dancing frescoes of cherubim and angels frolicking here, there, and every-bloody-where. Now, they’d been paneled over for protection, but also for Perry’s taste.

  The walls too, once a clashing brocade of magenta on white, had gone by the by until the next generation wished to uncover them for prosperity, and the carpet—once a bright blue—had been replaced by a rich oatmeal weave.

  The bed hadn’t changed, had the same high canopy that was attached to the frame, but cascading gauzy fabric swagged here and there over the bed. When the windows were open—four sets of double French doors—the fabric would sway and move in the breeze.

  He looked forward to a late summer night, the four of them on the bed, talking, discussing the future, maybe listening to the sounds of the life in Perry’s belly moving… he envisioned it all because with her, he could.

  She was his future.

  He knew that as well as he knew his face in the mirror.

  There was a dressing table, though she had her own dressing room, complete with a shiny new mirror, as well as countless chests of drawers that filled the expansive space. One chaise lounge was angled here, another there. Nooks for reading, armchairs hidden behind paneled room dividers that were the only bit of antiquity in the space—they had ancient depictions on them, some dating back to the eighteenth century. Italian landscapes on some, floral explosions on others.

  When he didn’t see her close by, he knew she was hiding. Then, he heard a giggle behind the divider that had been painted by Monet—this had been a secret commission. One that no one, not even most art experts, were aware of. It was like his Lily Pond, but the colors were brighter, more fitting of the once lurid colors in the room. George didn’t want to know how his ancestor had pulled off such a feat—DeSauviers could, after all, be very persuasive. Even if that meant forcing prolific painters to do their bidding.

  He whipped forward, silently padding on his bare feet. Ducking behind the divider, he caught her and whisked her off hers. She let out a squeak that had him laughing and he carefully hauled her over his shoulder so that her ass was high up.

  He tapped her there and retorted, “That’s what you get for hiding.”

  “George! Put me down,” she demanded, but the words were interspersed with laughter. “You’re not a caveman. It doesn’t suit you.”

  He slipped his hand up the simple dress she wore, part kaftan, part housecoat. It was bright yellow and patterned with tribal colors about the deep V-neckline. The colors suited her, and it was a nice change to see her in something that wasn’t yoga pants in their private quarters. The kaftans were especially useful when it came to times like these… he slid his hand up her leg, letting the fabric swathe his fingers as he tickled the backside of her thighs.

  She shivered in response, then giggled as he tossed her down on the large mattress. She bounced twice, each time making her tits judder in a way that had his cock hardening and his mouth watering. Just as she settled, he grabbed a hold of her and dragged her back toward him. He used his grasp on her ankles to part them, and as he did, the fabric of the kaftan slipped all the way down to her hips, exposing her very bare pussy.

  He let out a growl. “You weren’t lying.”

  Her voice was husky now. “Of course I wasn’t. I don’t lie about things like that.”

  “No, just about other things, huh?” Edward answered, and the pair of them peered over to him at the foot of the bed. He was leaning against one of the posts, looking damned cool and calm, while George felt feverish and flushed.

  “Come here,” Perry said with a pout.

  “No. I want George to unwrap his present.”

  Her pout turned coy. “That’s not fair.”

  “Who said I have to be fair, my Queen?”

  His words seemed to resonate with her in a way that heralded a physical response. Her breath suddenly deepened and her pupils turned into wide pools that beckoned him to dive in for a swim. The way her tits jiggled was further proof of her reaction.

  He let out a laugh. “Someone likes the sound of that.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she chided breathily.

  He grinned. “Who’s the one being silly?” In a somewhat conversational tone, he murmured, “A few months ago, I’d have had to dare you to use the word ‘silly.’”
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  She squinted at him. “Are we really having a conversation about words?”

  “Why not?” he teased, running his hands down the outer sides of her legs from ankle to hip. He let his nails drag toward her inner thigh, watching as she tensed, her butt sinking into the mattress, her back arching just a tad at the sensation. “Can’t you handle it?”

  “I can handle anything,” she grumbled, but she licked her lips and the look in her eye was proof positive that was bullshit.

  “I think we should test that,” Edward muttered, “Don’t you, George?”

  “I really do.” Before either of them could say another word, he dropped to his knees and dove on her. She immediately let out a squeal, but her hands came up to cup the back of his head and a litany of “oh my Gods” commenced.

  He grinned around her clit, then began to taunt her in earnest. He sucked and slurped, flicked and tickled the little nub with the tip of his tongue. She began to squirm but he kept her clamped in place with one forearm over her belly.

  When she began to ride his face, he used his free hand to thrust two fingers into her. She let out a sharp moan as he curled his fingers up, rubbing and bringing the tender nerve endings to life. Her panting breaths told him how close she was, but the way her pussy clenched around his digits was all the proof he needed.

  He placed an open-mouthed kiss to her clit, then sucked down.

  Hard.

  She let out a cry. “George. George!”

  “I think she likes that,” Edward said, and his voice was like cold water on a pan of hot oil. It triggered an inferno that had her legs clenching around his head.

  “Stop it, stop it,” she suddenly begged as he began to suck and slurp, knowing it would keep her on edge, knowing that it wouldn’t provide her with the relief she needed.

  Then, he felt her cunt clamp down once more on his fingers, and though she tried to keep him there, he pulled his head back.

  Panting, he licked his lips and watched as she lifted her head so she could glower at him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  Her bossy tone made him laugh. “You asked me to stop.”

  She gulped. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am. Deadly.”

  “He is. Deadly,” Edward inserted, and she whipped her head around to glare at him.

  At that exact same moment, he crooked his fingers inside her once more and watched with delight as she reared upward, her tits spilling out of the deep V-neck of the kaftan. It was frightfully jumbled and so goddamn sexy as a result, he wanted to growl.

  Perry and “sexy” didn’t really go together. She wasn’t an effortless seductress that only had to blink at him to get his cock hard. But there was something about her, a brutal honesty, that got to him every fucking time.

  He’d never known anything, any woman, with that power over him. It was what had proven to him that she was it for him. His own fucking Kryptonite, because all the sexy models and Victoria’s Secret Angels in the world couldn’t get him harder than Perry could with merely a blink of her gorgeous amber eyes.

  Her mewling cries had him wishing he could grab a hold of his cock, not to jack off, but to control himself. To hold back. God, she got to him like wildfire did a dry, dead tree. The only difference was, of course, that he wasn’t dry and he wasn’t dead.

  He was so fucking alive, and all because of her.

  Watching her shudder, he got to his feet and continued fucking her with his fingers. Crooking here, scissoring there, teasing and tormenting her, keeping her on edge. Needing her to be as out of control as he was. As they were, because he knew even if Edward was looking bored as hell, still waters ran very, very deep.

  He knew his brother.

  Too well.

  They’d done this too many times.

  Perry wasn’t aware of that, didn’t realize Edward liked to watch George drive their women insane…but she was about to learn the way they worked. And she was the most important woman ever, so the levels of insanity he intended to drive her to went beyond anything she could ever have imagined.

  “I’m gonna come,” she cried out, her legs trying to slam together, her thighs clenching down hard. But he leaned against the bed and lifted one knee to press against one of hers. Pinning her down with that, he looked at Edward, and saw his brother had stepped closer to grab Perry’s nearest ankle. Then, he stopped moving his fingers, stopped completely until she was panting, wild-eyed, and pleading, “Don’t stop! Why did you stop?”

  His grin probably looked as evil as he wanted it to, because she let out a shuddery sigh.

  He leaned over at the waist, bowing low until his mouth hovered over the spill of her luscious tits. He wished he had more hands, but instead, he shoved his face right between their swells. Perry’s fingers speared through his hair, raking down against his scalp in a way that drove him nuts.

  “Come inside me, George. Please, baby, please,” she crooned, and her back arched again.

  “Not yet,” he murmured, knowing his words were garbled between her tits. He turned his head and grappled one of her nipples between his lips. He slurped it, rolled it between his teeth, and released it with a pop. “One day, someday soon, our baby will nurse here.”

  She shivered.

  “You like that?” Edward demanded. “Our baby?”

  He looked up at her, watching her gaze clash with his brother’s as she nodded shakily.

  “Why do you like it, Perry?” Edward asked, his voice as commanding as it was when he was dealing with state business.

  “B-Because I’m y-yours.”

  “And did you think it might change when you were pregnant?”

  “I-I guess.”

  “It won’t,” George interrupted, needing her to know that. “If anything, it will bring us closer together. I can’t wait to watch your tits get bigger, to see you ripen with our child.” He angled himself so he could press his shaft against her. “Feel how hard I am for you, Perry.”

  He dove for her nipple once more, and as he bit at the tender nub, she whimpered. “I’ll get fat.”

  “No. You’ll get even more perfect than you are now.”

  Her hips rippled, her pelvis rocking into the sheets. He began, as a reward, to thrust into her once more. His fingers crooking again, trying to find her G-spot. He knew he’d found it when her body turbocharged with tension. She stiffened up, her response faster than ice cream melted on July 4th.

  “I think you found a good spot, George,” Edward complimented, apparently seeing her response.

  He hummed around her nipple, then he reached up and began to devour her throat.

  George had soon learned how that area there was one of her weaknesses, and if she was his Kryptonite, he damn well intended to find hers, for him to be her goddamn Achilles’ Heel.

  “Oh my God,” she cried out. “Please, more.”

  He stopped. Of course.

  His mouth went to work, his tongue palpating at her throat, his lips sucking and pulling. He wanted her covered in his marks. Wanted her to know, when she looked in the mirror later, that whether she was as round as a house, or as slender as she was now, she was his.

  Theirs.

  He shuddered at his own thoughts, and loved that her nails dug into his head once more as he sucked down hard against her most tender spots. Simultaneously, he began to move his fingers once more, and just when her pussy clamped down on him, he reared off the bed in an explosive movement that had her crying out.

  When she was completely open on the bed, her legs spread, her tits jiggling with every panting breath, he felt his cock through his pants and pressed down hard, needing to control the urge to come at the sight her. So fucking ready for them. So desperate to be theirs.

  As he watched her, panting himself, Edward, cool as a fucking cucumber, kept his hand on her ankle, then leaned down and pressed a single, solitary kiss to her cunt.

  She shuddered.

  Edward moved away, licking his lips as he went. The
n, without a word, he began to strip off. The silence was all the more deafening for his languid movements.

  Unlike George, not by one out-of-place hair did he even begin to reveal that he was in any way excited.

  As usual, he looked bored. Fuck him.

  George was sure that he himself looked ready, looked close to the brink of explosion. And yet, Edward was the exact opposite.

  He tried to view his brother’s response through Perry’s eyes, and could only imagine how confused it made her. Just when he started to fear it would cause her to feel insecure, Edward asked, his tone desultory, “How badly do you want our cocks, Perry?”

  She gulped, and her eyes widened. Her mouth trembled and her gaze flickered over to George. He nodded slightly, encouragingly. He sensed her unease at this new element Edward was introducing, and wanted to reassure her.

  “Badly,” she whispered huskily.

  “Take off your dress,” Edward murmured, watching as Perry instantly obeyed and tossed the kaftan overhead and off the bed. “Now, spread your pussy wide open so we can see how hungry that little cunt is for us.”

  Her cheeks began to burn with heat, and George could well understand. Edward’s cool tone was in direct contrast to his dirty, wicked words.

  With her face redder than a tomato that had been sundried and then sunburned, she laid back on the bed again and, spreading her legs, reached between them to touch herself. She parted her pussy lips, revealing the wet hole that was slick with her juices.

  George licked his lips as his sensory memory reminded him of the exact taste of her on his tongue.

  Salty, sweet. Like honey and musk combined.

  He began to strip, too. His shirt went first, his pants next. He wore briefs and his cock felt like it was being strangled behind the clinging fabric, but he kept them on lest he be too tempted by the games his brother was playing.

  “How wet are you, Perry?” Edward asked. She gulped, but slipped a finger inside her gate. When she started to speak, Edward continued, “Tell me after you’ve tasted yourself.”

  She blinked but did as bid, slipping the sodden digit between her lips and sucking it clean. “I’m very wet. Too wet.”