Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tuscany
My heart aches when I sit up in bed to find I’m alone—again. He promised! He— My mind settles when I hear the shower, my anger dissolving. He didn’t leave. Maybe I need to be clearer tomorrow night; command him to stay in bed with me.
I drop back onto the mattress, warmth moving through my body like warm honey.
I feel like a woman. Lifting my fingers, I trail them around my breasts and collar.
My skin hums from his touch, and the place between my thighs somehow swells from the memory of it.
His tongue, his dark words of possession.
That body, oh… Oh, that body of his. The moment he took off his shirt, I gasped.
My fingers flexed to caress his defined abdominals and the hard bulging muscles over his shoulders.
I felt weak, as if I would do just about anything to have this man take me—claim me.
I let out a huge sigh, listening to the shower in the ensuite. To think, past queens never experienced a man, never… Did they? In private? Maybe? No, they were perfectly carved, flawlessly marble.
I remember Turin Of The Strait’s sister, Paris, the queen before me.
She was marble. Flawless. Tall. Always with a soft smile, always graceful and—easy.
Easy to be around, to look at. She died when I was very little, but I still remember seeing her dead body displayed on a stone platform.
Even in death, she was stunning. Long, luscious black hair fanned around her, wavy and fluid like liquid onyx.
Dark skin, long lashes. I remember lifting onto my tippytoes, gripping the edge of the stone, and staring at her lovely face.
I wondered how her hair stayed like that, so perfectly positioned around her dead body.
A sudden illness took her; this is all we were told. We had no queen for two years, then I turned ten…
They didn’t display my father like that at his funeral. Though he was beheaded by my brother. The king is not a symbol of spirituality or worship, but a figure to fear and obey. Viewing him after death would only portray him as vulnerable, mortal.
Thoughts come back to me: ‘It is control, and I am a part of it. It is all marketing.”
And I am the broken queen. When carving me, I only continued to shrink in size and confidence. I think they meant to harden me, only I cracked. One little crack can bring down an entire mountain.
Sometimes, what we desire most has the worst consequences… When I was a child, I wanted to be like Paris, a queen. Now, all I wish to be is a whole woman. They took my womb and one ovary, as I now understand it. They left one; I'm still a woman, then?
I roll to my side, staring at Eagle Rome on the bedside table.
What does ‘take no man’ really mean? I always consider it to be the act itself.
Of having a man insert himself into me. Rather, what if it’s simply that I will choose no favourites amongst my people, form no bonds, love everyone equally?
Wishful thinking.
A screen suddenly lowers from the ceiling at the foot of my bed, and I push to my backside. The panel comes alive with the current Trade Update. Every screen in The Cradle will be alight, each Trade-aligned citizen required to stop their Purpose and watch.
On the screen, I’m hit by the image of me strolling hand in hand with little River, and I look…
Do I look like that? Somehow, the CR Guard has managed to make me appear beautiful and graceful.
The smile I force, that hides my secret anxieties, appears soft and real.
I don’t feel the way I look up there. Even in the mirror, I see… Well, I don’t see that.
Leaning forward, I squint at the screen.
A roll of moving pictures of my campaign thus far before an impressive wide scope of the military that gathered at the steps of the Lower-tower—and Kong.
Standing proudly at the top, all eyes on him.
A Military Deity. A titan, strong, powerful sentinel that demands every gaze.
My chest inflates with a tiny hole inside, air squeezing through the gap. I am breathless for him. A smile touches my lips watching him show a young Guard how to shoot and then… He gets shot. I gasp.
He was shot in the leg?
How dare he not inform his queen he has been wounded! Painfully concerned, I climb out of the bed, dropping to my feet. Without thinking, I stride to the ensuite. Swinging open the door, I am met with a plume of steam and the sight of… Oh…
Of Kong in the shower with his huge hand wrapped around his length, his other holding his weight on the tiles above his head, his abdominal muscles rippling, moving all that dark ink around as if it’s living art.
I rub my thighs together, forgetting completely why I…
Why I… Why am I in here? Look at those muscles…
I can’t think. Can’t tear my eyes away from him and what he is doing—violently.
There is a fierceness to this act that forces all my blood to rush between my legs and my insides to clamp around nothing. Wanting. Pressure.
His brows are tight.
Mouth open, panting.
He looks wild and enormous like this, without clothes on, animal instincts driving his fist up and down his length. So virile. Almost too big for the shower, too tall, too wide.
A whimper falls helplessly through my lips.
His eyes snap to me, quickly dripping down my body.
I forgot that I’m naked. He growls from his chest, shuddering as white fluid shoots from him.
His grunts match his powerful release—one, two, three—then he drops his head back, groaning through the last spurt of his release.
“Fuck.” He tries to gather himself. “This is not for your eyes, little queen.”
I spin to face away from him, panting and dizzy. “I… I…” Oh, my. “What are you doing in my shower?”
“You asked me to be here when you woke up, little queen.” The shower cuts off behind me. “I said I would be here.”
“But you…” I can’t even say it. “You were... touching yourself.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“That’s not what I—” I clear my throat and turn around to see him pulling his boxer briefs on, his long dark hair lightly dried, deliciously a mess around his shoulders.
I want to say that he should show me how to do that, that I think I’d like to make him feel good, to make his body shudder the way it did.
Just the thought makes my forehead mist and my skin tingle with arousal.
I’ve become addicted to this sensation, to being free, wanton, wild—with him.
With my Guardian. I trust him so entirely, and I’m not sure when that happened, but it’s both wonderful and terrifying.
I would never recover if he betrayed me. Never. I couldn’t—
I peer up at him as he takes a step toward me. “You have needs.”
“They don’t concern you.”
“Who do they concern?”
“Only me.”
“And the women who pleasure you?” I ask, jealousy digging its claws in. “Is it their concern, too? Brook’s, perhaps? Is it her concern?”
A smooth grin moves across his lips. “Where is this coming from, little queen?”
I don’t know what has come over me, but gazing up at this magnificent man, wet, bare-chested, naked apart from his briefs, a possessive wave crashes into me.
I step into him, pressing my chest to his, my nipples beading and hot.
Arching my neck further, to the point of discomfort—he is so tall, so massive.
“It’s my concern.” I hold his intense stare. “I need my Guardian to be focused. The Trade has initiatives to pleasure men so they can concentrate, and you are no different. Why haven’t you taken a Lace Girl or a House Girl or any of the other Trade girls born for this ultimate Purpose?”
His eyes darken. “I’m loyal.”
I feel like I know what he’s implying, but I have to hear it. The words; I need to hear them. “To Rome?” I press for acknowledgement.
“To you.”
I exhale the breath I didn’t realise I was holding, feeling my chest deflate with relief and happiness. “You don’t…” My eyes spark with the words: ‘enjoy other women.’
“No,” he says. “I don’t.”
“Then, you need not apologise.” I spin and walk from the ensuite, so hot, so coiled and desperate for his mouth again. “I expect you to pleasure yourself when needed.”
Reaching for my velvet robe, I wrap it around my body, tying the ends at my middle.
I pace, rubbing my fingers into my palms. Drifting again, I find myself leaving my body for thoughts.
Suddenly, I am acutely aware of my inexperience with men and what they enjoy.
I’ve barely even seen male parts, definitely do not know how to…
handle them. He was quite rough, quite aggressive. Is it always like that?
Who can I ask?
Warmth pools low, my insides clenching and wet just thinking about the way his muscles bulked and shuddered as he shot across the tiles.
Oh, I want him kneeling. Want him sucking me.
Want him between my thighs. My ladies will be here soon to bathe and dress me, but my body squirms with need.
What have I done? Unlocked something insatiable within me, a spoilt brat for pleasure.
I feel his gaze. Sense it.
“Sit and eat something, little queen. I will wait outside your door,” he says, crossing the suite to meet me in the corner of the room where floor to ceiling curtains blanket both walls.
There is a small single sofa, bookcase, a small table, and lamp adorning this little recess.
On the table, three high-nutrient protein bites make a diamond shape on a silver plate.
Don’t leave.
With my pulse fluttering in my neck, I sit on the single sofa chair, lifting my feet to the cushion under my backside.
As I stare at him, demanding and strong, I slowly drop my knees to the sides, exposing myself. I feel tight and wet, as if my lips are swollen and puffy.
His dark eyes narrow.
"I'll eat my protein bites,” I say, breathily, though I try to be commanding—calm. Like he is. “You eat my pussy.”
"As you wish, little queen."
With unwavering eyes, he walks toward me in just a pair of boxer briefs, his muscles defined and etched into his form.
I swallow, feeling myself dripping down my backside.
He kneels in front of me, preparing to worship my body for the third time in less than a day. He feeds his arms around me, his hands rubbing up and down my spine as he dips his tongue between my legs.
He licks me, lapping from my entrance to my clit and back again, then sucks softly, the sounds and sensations making me dizzy with pleasure. Oh, yes.
I tremble and squirm at his teasing pace. "More, please, please. They will be here soon.”
He lifts his head. With his mouth hovering just above my wet core, he glares up at me, hunger in his eyes. "Open your lips and eat, and I will do the same."
I've never seen anything so provocative as this seven-foot Guardian on his knees, lips moist from my arousal.
Reaching for a chocolate and coconut bite, I slowly place it between my lips. The flavour bursts across my tongue, salty and sweet. Just as my mouth fills with flavour, Kong groans and eats me, focusing solely on my pleasure. I suck the ball while he sucks me, my thighs widening for his appetite.
I slump back into the seat and close my eyes, savouring the taste of chocolate and coconut, enjoying Kong's tongue. I don’t want this to stop. I won’t give this up.
Pleasure hovers so close, so very close.
His huge hands cover my lower back entirely, massive arms circling my pelvis, pushing, bending me into his ravenous mouth.
My legs quiver as his tongue builds and builds tension in my lower belly. I clench around the penetration, convulsing, wanting something deeper.
His manhood.
His long, hard cock. I want that. I imagine it. Imagine him thrusting in time with his tongue. Grabbing his hair, I am suddenly grinding against him forcefully. I think about his hand on his long length, the wild abandon of the act, the speed, the grunts.
Oh.
I moan and whimper as sensation crashes through me, but Kong doesn’t stop there. His mouth closes over my entrance, sucking hard while his tongue spears in and out, bringing on more… Oh! Another wave pushes in with brutal force, riding the tail of the last one that hasn’t even finished.