Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kong
My little queen rolls over in my arms, blinks at me, her golden eyes brimming with emotion and longing, and it makes me feel volatile and irresponsible.
I've been around; I understand the depth of The Trade’s conditioning. The layers of bureaucracy. We can never be. This will end in agony, but I can't fucking stop myself. Not now. Not after that.
"Can you do that again?"
Insatiable.
I smirk. "I can."
"Can you do more?"
“I can’t do that, little queen.”
She sighs. "I know, but do you want to? No one wants to hold a marble statue.”
“You’re not a statue.”
“I was meant to be,” she whispers, then says, “What do you want to do?”
My cock jerks in my pants, answering her fucking question with a standing ovation. I know I should leave and guard her door. A place I've been for years, where my inner creature prowls and protects. “You don’t want to know the depravities I imagine doing to your little body.”
“Kong.” She hooks her leg over my thigh, pressing her bare pussy to my pants. “I liked it. I want more.”
“What do you like about it?”
“I feel real. Grounded.” She rubs herself against me, her slim leg taking hold of the bulk of my thigh, locking it at her core, a hard, warm perch for my little queen’s insatiable lust for pleasure and presence.
“Nothing waiting, lurking, nothing is going to grab me,” she says.
“It is just you and me, and this feeling. Tell me, is it different when a man is inside? What would it be like? What would you do? Tell me.”
I clench my teeth, using that action figuratively to cage my urges. I’ve been with dozens of women, but none for a long, long time. It wasn’t hard, because my pulse only throbs for her.
Now she is in my arms, rubbing against me like a cat in heat. She’s been squashed and belittled her entire life. I want to give her everything, to spoil her with pleasure.
As you wish, little queen.
I run my palm down her spine, spanning the lower arch, supporting her.
“I'd make you come with my mouth first, little queen. Make sure you’re hot and open—relaxed. Then, I would lie on top of you and spread your legs with my hips. I’d hold my weight, but make sure the pressure left you on the edge of gasping for your life. ”
She continues clumsily riding my thigh, searching, learning. “I’d watch your eyes widen,” I go on, “as I sank inside you for the first time. I’d both hate and love the way your mouth gaped at the sensation of being stretched, of being punctured when you take my cock through your hymen.”
“It hurts?” she whispers, and the words seem frightened, but her hips speed up, and her eyes flutter. “I want to be hurt by you.”
“Oh, little queen. Don’t say that.”
“I do. I want you to be the one who carves me, who changes me.” She glides her hand up my side, my muscles flexing beneath her soft, smooth touch.
“Keep going,” she begs.
“Your pussy would be so tight, I’d barely get inside you,” I murmur, my cock throbbing in my pants.
“I would have to whisper for you to relax, to take a deep breath, because I would be so fucking worried about you, but then you’d feel so good, nervously clenching around me, I’d lose control, and I’d start to fuck you like I don’t care anymore. ”
She pants.
Working herself up.
Her hand stops at my shoulder, her fingers digging into the thick, hard muscle. She uses it to brace herself, dragging her pussy up and down my hard thigh.
“I’d fuck you like I don’t care about the consequences. I’d fucking claim you, little queen,” I state, breathless myself, the harsh taste of guilt engulfing my tongue.
I want to claim you.
“I want that.” She whimpers, her eyes squeezing shut, her forehead dropping to my chest, her pussy grinding on me hard. Fast. She’s so close. So fucking close.
I cup the back of her head as she moans into my chest, her hips reckless and jerking as she comes, as a little orgasm she earned herself rolls through her.
“Good girl,” I say, voice thick. “You did that all by yourself. I’m so proud of you for making yourself come, little queen.”
Her head is buried in my chest, hot, heavy breaths beating against my skin. She doesn’t move again, but I feel her muscles loosen.
I stare down at the queen of The Cradle, wrapped in my arms like I always dreamed of. In this Tower, spies and snakes lurk at every corner. Fuck. I should get out. Guard her door as I have done for years.
Get the hell up!
She is not yours.
This is not a fairytale.
"I want this,” she whispers, her voice husky with sleep—defenceless and raw. “Please, please be here when I wake up." There is a hint of fear lacing her words, and it joins the dark conflict in my chest.
I pull her closer.
With each heavy exhale, her body softens more and more, vulnerabilities dissolving into slumber.
I sigh hard, my concern heavy and weighted. Watching over her, from her long hair cascading over her back to the small arms that cling to the thick muscles of my torso, I am tight with possessiveness. I clench my teeth, my jaw tightening. This is—dangerous.
An ache flares in my chest, deep and foreboding.
It's as if, at any moment, Rome will storm into this suite, and I'll have to fight the King of The Cradle—lose to the King of The Cradle, because I would never hurt the boy I helped raise.
Nevertheless, I would fight for her if faced with the challenge. It would destroy me, but I would do it.
She has changed everything tonight; the damage is done, and I welcome it. Cradling her against me, I revel in it.
Decades ago, when I was ten, a little girl bled out in my arms, and I couldn't help her.
Years later, a little princess was mutilated and imprisoned by the regime I serve.
I was helpless to stop it. Today, I am a man—older, experienced, strong—and what kind of man would I be if I didn't keep my word to her? I'll watch the monsters for her.
A name slithers into my mind; Bled. I've been pushing it down, focused on her.
Prick.
What is he up to? Giving her a secret door, offering her costumes to explore the hall in disguise? The king would not approve, so what are his motivations?