Masked Prince (Fated Royals Book 2)

by Nikolai Andrew

  “Do you know what you’re going to call me?”

  “Not yet. Still think….” She trailed off as my mouth met her pussy, “...thinking,” she whispered.

  I started slow, fucking her with the dildo while I ate her out. I knew her angles, I knew her secrets, and it didn’t take me long to get where I needed her to go. For the first orgasm, anyway.

  Toes curled, thighs quivering, she tipped her head back, lengthening that throat I loved to suck. She kicked the table once, twice, and then bit the very tip of her tongue, tipping her hips forward into my mouth as she came. One.

  Still fucking her slowly with the glass dildo, I changed my rhythm with my tongue, using the length rather than the tip, keeping her clit compressed. It was harder for her to get there. Her body was spent, her pussy exhausted.

  “I can’t…I…” She whined.

  Excuse me?

  I didn’t want to leave her pussy, but no chance was I going to let her get away with that bullshit. I ripped my mouth away from her opening with a sucking slurp.

  “I never fucking want to hear you say that again. Yes you can and yes you will,” I said, and went back to eating her out. Her body rolled with a warning pulse that she was getting close. My voice had done that. Just my fucking voice. As soon as my tongue hit her clit, she was giving me two.

  She was getting in the rhythm. But I could feel from the way she writhed that she didn’t fucking believe I was doing this to her. If she thought I was going to give in to her writhes and pants, she was dead wrong. She slapped the table hard, like she was folding a bad hand of cards, trying to say she gave up. It was my signal to give it to her even harder, longer, stronger. Her toes curled again and she gave me a long, whispered, “No, no, no, no...”

  Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. She was hitting the wall; but I was going to make sure she broke through it. Poor little thing had probably never even imagined orgasm torture. But she was fucking living it now. Fuck yes, she was. I gripped her thighs hard, pulling her pussy so wide that she gasped out in pain. And as she gasped, she came. Three.

  My tongue was getting tired and my jaw was locking up, but I didn’t give a fuck. She was surrendering. She was getting to the place where nothing else mattered. Where everything faded away. True submission was where she knew only what I gave her, no more, no less. No more fight left in her, it started as a shiver and ended as a sob. Four.

  Five came easy, a double-whammy for four, but harder, longer, and louder.

  She was halfway toward deserving a reward. I stood up, leaving the dildo inside of her, and jacked off hard against her clit. She desperately tried to squirm away, but the restraints were solid, the leather double thick. And as the buckles dug into her upper arms, she came again. Six.

  With my hands, I created a space that let me slide my dick back and forth along her clit. My balls hit the cold end of the dildo as I gave her constant, unceasing contact with my dick against her clit.

  “Call me by my name.” I gritted out between clenched teeth.

  A red flush blossomed from her chest to her cheeks and her body shimmered with sweat. She didn’t answer me right away. I had to pull those words out of all that pleasure. “Answer me.”

  That yanked her back to me and she found her way to speaking again.

  “I don’t… I don’t know yet….”

  I pulled the dildo out of her and threw it aside, plunging my cock into the gaping, cum-slick hole it left behind. She was so wet that I almost couldn’t fucking feel her but she still felt amazing. It was like she was a part of me.

  “Don’t make me keep fucking asking,” I said, deep dicking her until she gave me eight.

  She was fighting me, fighting me hard. She clenched her pussy like a vise, but I kept my orgasm back. It was right there, right there, but I didn’t give it to her. Not until she gave me what I asked.

  “It’s too much, it’s too…” She panted.

  No fucking way. I gave her clit the back of my knuckle as I fucked her deep and long.

  “Come for me, you little brat. Right the fuck now,” I snapped.

  And she did exactly as she was told. Nine.

  “Good girrrrrrrl,” I growled, unbuckling her legs while I was still inside of her. I shoved them back against her body into breeding position and yanked her to the edge of the table.

  “Say it,” I said, with a deep thrust that made my balls slap against her ass.

  She balled her hands in tight, frustrated fists. With her eyes toward the ceiling, she panted out, “How many more?”

  I’d warned her about the fucking questions once and I wasn’t going to do it again. I fucked her even harder, jack-hammering her with all my force.

  “Say my fucking name.”

  A cry like a wild animal filled the dungeon. Pure frustration, pure exhaustion. She was there, she was right fucking there, on the brink of letting go to me completely.

  “My King,” she sobbed out. “You are my King.”

  Holy fucking shit. That word. That surrender. The orgasm I thought I’d been so in control of was now busting out of my balls and into my shaft.

  “Goddamn it, yes, baby. Say it again,” I said, the table squeaking against its bolts on the floor. “Let me hear it again.”

  The pleasure she heard in my voice instantly gave her strength. I saw her smile, even through her frustration, and her fists unclenched. Her pussy walls began to massage my cock to signal it was happening. I knew it before she did. Fuck yes. I plunged so far into her that she screamed as I met the back of her cunt.

  “Say it like you mean it,” I roared. I sounded like a beast and I fucking felt like one.

  The small of her back arched up off the table.

  “Come for me, my King,” she said. “Come inside me….”

  Ten, together, with my seed shooting into her womb.

  Chapter 12

  Randal

  We fucked like animals for days. We came together for hours, we screwed for whole nights. She learned to obey, to stop sassing me, to take whatever I gave her. And she fucking took it like the goddess that she was. Each orgasm was stronger, each session was longer. In her arms, I saw a life of pleasure and pain that was all I had ever hoped for, but never let myself dream about. It was bliss.

  Fucking heaven.

  We talked, I asked her everything. I wanted all of her. She asked me things as well, I kept my answers vague, not lying to her, but not quite telling her the whole truth either. I didn’t want to ruin what we had, selfish as fuck I know, but I had things to figure out.

  As I was shooting a hot load into her for the eighth time that day, I thought to myself that I could die right then, right there. I was a fucking happy man, at last.

  One afternoon, I was about to bathe that sweet pink cunt when there was a knock at the dungeon door.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I growled, never taking my eyes off her silky red slit. My soapy fingers were literally two inches from her swollen pussy, with my cum still trickling from her opening, and we were getting interrupted? “I give exactly zero fucks who is on the other side of that door.”

  Iris was naked, once again chained to the wall, sitting on the fuck table, covered in suds, and she laughed a little. She shimmied her ass and it made her tits jiggle.

  “You’re getting so greedy, my King.”

  Awww fuck.

  Yet again, there was another knock. I knew that whoever it was, it had to be important. Only my own private guards knew this room even existed, and they sure-as-shit weren’t going to come interrupt me here to go eat tea and motherfucking crumpets with some visiting ambassador from Who The Fuck Cares.

  I looked Iris in the eyes and slid my slippery fingers over her clit.

  “Stay there.” Then I chuckled quietly. “As if you’ve got a choice.”

  She groaned, the pleasure making her stomach muscles tense up, but she nodded. She had a bratty side, for fucking sure, but when it mattered, she knew exactly how to make me happy. Obedience was
the best of the virtues, bar fucking none.

  I myself was also buck naked. so I pulled on a pair of britches before opening the door. Outside stood Erik, the captain of my private guards. “You’re wanted,” he said in a low whisper.

  Blocking the doorway with my body, I looked him in the eye.

  “Listen, man. There is literally nothing more important than what I’m doing in there right now. So come back in six hours. Or ten.”

  Erik shook his head.

  “It’s the King,” he said, looking serious and somber. “He’s failing fast. He asked to see you. Demanded, actually.”

  Fuck. I pinched my temples hard with my thumb and forefinger, trying to clear my mind. I’d been so deep into Iris, I’d fucking forgotten all about the rest of the world, including—I was ashamed to admit it—my father’s illness. When I was inside her, it felt like the world stopped. But clearly, it hadn’t.

  “Alright. Wait here.”

  I shut the door and went back to Iris, making sure to tell her with my eyes, with my body, that I was back to being just me—I was her owner, first and always, but sometimes I was also that fucking lovesick guy who watched her from afar for all those years.

  She got it in an instant. I loved that about her—the way she understood without having to be told.

  “Are you okay?” Was all she asked.

  I grabbed the keys to undo her chains.

  “It’s my father. He’s unwell. I need to go see him. I’m sorry, baby.”

  Now her arms were free and she wrapped them around me, pulling me close.

  “It’s okay. I’ll be right here if that’s what you want.”

  Fuck, she was the sweetest. I let myself take comfort in the softness of her cheek against mine, the way her hair got tangled in my stubble.

  “I never want you to leave. Never.”

  “Then I won’t. I promise. I’ll be here when you return. Someday I want to know all of you and your family. When you are ready, my King.” She pulled away from the embrace, her eyes warm and kind. “Now go. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. And yes, I want you to know everything as well. In time.” I replied, my heart fucking melting in my chest. “Be back as soon as I can.”

  It took all my fucking strength to turn away from her, but somehow I managed to do it. I made sure the door was open to the room where I’d bolted the bed. I brought her a glass of wine, two ripe apricots, and her robe, and gave her one last long, greedy kiss. Then I ripped myself away. I grabbed my shirt and my boots and left the dungeon. Erik was waiting for me and he gave me a look, mischievous and knowing.

  “Well, well,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  Asshole. I buttoned my britches and adjusted my balls, then tied my boots and ran my hand through my hair before I turned to face him. For one long second, I just stared him straight in the eye.

  And then I said, “I need you to watch her. Make sure she’s safe.”

  For all the ribbing we gave one another, he always had my back. Fucking always.

  “You know I will,” Erik said. “I’ll protect her like she’s my own.”

  The words were well-meant, I knew that, but they caused a roar of jealousy inside me. He and I had known each other for years, but that didn’t fucking matter. When it came to Iris, nothing else mattered—not even friendship.

  I got in close to his face and grabbed his shoulder as I said, “I love you like a brother, but if you touch her, I’ll fucking kill you. We clear?”

  Erik sniffed hard, laughing but not letting me really see it.

  “We’re clear, fuckhead. You know I got you.”

  I did. And I knew Iris would be safe with him by the door. And taking some peace at least in that, I hauled ass back to my quarters to grab my mask, and then on to see my father.

  My father was worse than before. Way fucking worse. An old nursemaid now sat beside him, holding his hand, and looking down into her lap with grief.

  “Fuck,” I said as I ripped my mask off and went to him. “Father. Can you hear me?”

  His skin was pale and thin, like paper. He stirred when he heard my voice though, and opened his eyes slowly. They were rimmed with red, and the whites of his eyes were tinged with yellow.

  “There’s my boy.”

  The nurse excused herself with a bow and left us alone. I took my father’s cold hand in mine and blew out a long breath.

  “I hate to see you in pain. I fucking hate it.”

  He cleared his dry throat and tried to sit up. I helped him and situated his pillow behind his back. As I did, I noticed that he had grown even more bone-thin; this great lion of a king was now hardly more than a ghost of himself. I didn’t want to lose him, fuck almighty I didn’t. Who am I if I am not his son? Who is a bastard when his father is dead?

  “Give me some good news, son. Anything,” he said.

  I knew he meant news of the kingdom—the kingdom was his life—but in my gut all I wanted him to know was that I’d fallen head over fucking heels for the most perfect woman in the world. But it was all so goddamned messy that I didn’t even know where to start.

  He sensed my hesitation and said, “Then at least tell me you’ve been doing as I asked.” He glanced warily at my mask. “At least tell me you haven’t been hiding yourself since I saw you last.”

  I hadn’t been hiding myself—that much was fucking dead-right. Iris had seen all of me, fucking all of me, inside and out. But I hadn’t been showing myself to the world as he’d asked, either. Not even close. I knew exactly what I had been doing. It wasn’t all that fucking complicated. I had been losing myself in Iris to take away some of the pain of losing him, at least in part. I’d been showing her everything that I was, knowing she’d never treat me like a fucking monster in return. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of the world, I knew that for goddamned sure.

  “It’s a process,” I said. “I’m working on it.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, still with that intensity that could make everybody in a room fucking freeze.

  “There’s no time for a process, Randal.”

  I leaned back in my chair, rocking back on the rear legs. He was right. Of fucking course he was right.

  “I know.”

  “This is it, my boy. There’s no time to work up to it. I need you to step up. Now.”

  I inhaled to steady myself. “I will. I fucking promise.”

  My father gripped my hand.

  “Good. There’s a court gathering happening this morning. Let them see you. Please, son. I could die a happy man knowing that you finally showed your face. Today, to the courtiers, then to your people.” He closed his eyes as a wave of pain seized him. Then he inhaled deeply and said, “I could die in comfort knowing that the thing you fear most is behind you.”

  I shook my head.

  “I need to speak with Elaina. I need her guidance on how to do this properly. She understands the workings of the court better than either of us.”

  “Randal.” My father’s voice was as stern as he could make it, despite the weakness he clearly felt. “That may be the truth, but the court needs to see your honesty. They need to see you the way I see you, not as a figurehead but a leader.”

  Fuck this pain. I didn’t want to lose him; I couldn’t lose him. But I had no goddamned choice. Death was coming, no matter how much I fought it. And so, taking my lead from Iris, learning from the way she had handled herself over and over again in the last few days, I accepted the pain. I pushed into it. I embraced it.

  And finally I said, “I’ll do it. Today. Fucking promise. I will not let you down.”

  I let go of his hand and embraced his thin body, holding him close, remembering all the times he had protected me through my life. From him, I got every good thing that I was. From him, I learned all of my strength. And I would repay him as he deserved to be repaid.

  Placing my mask on his bedside table, I got up to go.

  “I’m going to leave that there, as a show of faith.”

/>   But my father shook his head.

  “Remember this: kings must have a strategy. You have to take it off in front of them. Nobody will question your legitimate right to rule if you do this right.”

  The life of kings is nothing more than a fucking chess game.

  “All this goddamned drama.” I fastened my mask on my face. “I fucking hate all the drama.”

  “I know,” he said, sounding as annoyed as I felt. “But that’s the hand we were dealt. And now it’s your turn to play it.”

  The noise of clinking glasses and dishes filled the hallway that led to the banquet hall. As I approached, I got the sense that this wasn’t some small gathering of high nobility. The place was fucking packed and the din of conversation was damn-near deafening.

  “Christ almighty,” I muttered to myself as I passed rows and rows of valets in full livery, waiting dutifully for their masters and mistresses outside the banquet hall. Near the entrance to the hall, but well away from the threshold, I paused and took a second to collect myself, stepping to the side of the doorway so I was out of view. An hour ago, I’d been inside Iris. Now I had to deal with this. Power was a bitch. No doubt about it.

  One of my father’s heralds eyed me from beside the door and blinked.

  “Sir?” He asked. “Shall I announce you?”

  Fucking fuck.

  I hated this. I knew that the second I set foot across that threshold, my life would change forever. And yet, now that I was so close to the power of the crown, I also saw that things with Iris might not be as difficult as I’d thought. True enough, I couldn’t fucking marry her. But also true was the fact that I wasn’t particularly interested in being her husband, living out that ordinary existence, with ordinary things and ordinary sex.

  Fuck no.

  I didn’t want her to be simply my goddamned wife, either. I wanted to keep her as my secret, my treasure, my possession. I didn’t just want her in jewels; I wanted her in jewels, and barefoot, and pregnant. And I wanted her to be able to do whatever the hell she wanted as well, whatever that looked like. I wanted everything with her, way the fuck more than a marriage could guarantee. Especially a royal one with all its pomp and expectations and protocol.