And another. And another, until a red hand print is visible on the soft flesh. I trace over it with a fingertip and she sighs as I run the finger into the dip between her cheeks, teasing her asshole.
“You’re my king,” she says. “And I’m your queen.”
“Damn right. All of this belongs to me,” I say as I press my fingertip into the tight ring, sinking my cock deeper inside her warmth. “Every curve. Every scar.” I move my hand up to her side, where the remains of the knife wound are still visible. The night I could have lost her is still vivid in my mind, even twenty-six years later.
“Please, Bors, I can’t hold out much longer.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Tell me what you want, scream it,” I start pumping inside her hard, the dressing table once again beating a rhythm against the castle wall. I’m sure her maid must have heard us going at it a million times by now, but I don’t care. I don’t care who knows how much I love my queen.
“I want your cock, my king!” She shouts as her orgasm builds. “Please, fuck me like I’m your whore! Fuck me, let me cum.”
I sink balls-deep inside her and increase my speed, clasping a hand over her mouth, controlling her breathing. Everything she is, every breath she takes, comes from me. I decide what she needs and I will give it to her.
“Cum then, my queen. Do it now,” I tell her between panted breaths, and she starts to shudder and scream almost immediately.
As her orgasm tips over, wracking her body, I let loose. I shoot my load inside her, coating her walls, making her mine yet again, as I have done several times a day since our first time. I’ll never get enough of my angel, my queen, my Sara. I want her morning, noon and night, I’m hard for her day and night. Insight or out of my sight. It only takes the thought of her sweet pussy, her ample tits, the thought of her mouth sucking me off...
Her long, deep moan of satisfaction is accompanied by a pounding at the door of our chamber. At first I ignore it, but then it comes again.
“Who is it?”
“Seamus, sire.”
Seamus? I see the look of concern on Sara’s face as she turns around to look at me, my still-hard dick buried deep inside her. I know what she’s thinking: Why would they send Seamus, unless it’s something bad?
“Sorry to bother you, your grace… um, your graces. But it’s Princess Gwen. She’s sick.”
Sara’s face drops as she looks to me for strength. “Gwen? What could have happened?”
I place a hand on her back, soothing her. “It will be all right.” Turning to the door, I raise my voice. “We’ll be right there, Seamus.”
Sara
Our daughter, Angie, is ashen-faced at Gwen’s bedside. Her eldest daughter is barely five years old and the love of her life. Of all our lives. Having Angie and her husband, Tanner, choosing to stay here at the castle with us, at least for the time being, was a blessing. While her older brothers have moved away with their own wives, founding fledgling kingdoms on distant shores, she’s stayed and brought new life into the old walls with her own children.
If anything were to happen to Gwen, the devastation would know no bounds.
“Angelica will know what to do,” I tell her, placing a hand over the back of hers, and she looks up, meeting my eyes as I pull my lips into a thin smile. “She always knows what to do.”
Angie turns her hand, wrapping her fingers around mine. She needs her mother’s strength right now, and I’m happy to lend it to her.
“I hope she gets here soon,” she whispers.
“She’ll be here as fast as she can.”
Bors is pacing by the door, a look of thunder on his face. He already asked Seamus who was supposed to be guarding little Gwen today, and Seamus told him that the man had been dismissed. I have a feeling Bors would have done worse than just dismiss him from his post, so it’s probably just as well Seamus already dealt with it.
The door is flung open and Seamus dips his head into the room.
“Angelica is here,” he says, totally unnecessarily as our old friend sweeps past him without a word. There’s a little blood still on her arms from the awkward birth she had just finished assisting when she was sent for.
“What happened?” she asks, meeting my eyes before sweeping her gaze over the other occupants of the room.
“Her guard wasn’t watching her,” Bors grunts, looking across to Seamus. “She was allowed to slip away, out of the castle.”
Angelica rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure you’re very angry about that, you big oaf. But right now I need to know where the little Princess has been so that we can save her life.” She kneels down beside the bed and leans across to lift one of Gwen’s eyelids, moving this way and that to examine her eye.