Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kong
It’s been a rapid shift from the man I was when we left The Estate, to whatever I am now with her back resting against my chest in the bath.
I feel both volatile and content. Consumed by feelings. Not stoic, nor steady, nor level-headed.
I am going to kill him.
I’m going to kill Cairo.
I don’t know how yet, but the certainty of it lives in me like a second skeleton. It is not a passing impulse, but something written into every tendon and sinew.
I. Will. Kill. Him.
She sits tucked between my thighs, my legs taking up most of the space. Her hair creates a halo around us, golden strands floating on the surface.
I lift the sponge, water and soap foaming from the fibres, and slide it across her delicate clavicles, washing her slowly, enjoying her soft hums.
We have to leave.
The statement prowls in my mind, awakening every sense to the immediate danger, but I can’t bring myself to drag her away after that…
I glide the sponge down, between her breasts into the warm water.
Stopping at the beautiful place between her thighs, I circle the supple flesh, removing the dried blood on her thighs and pussy lips.
She hums. “That feels nice.”
“Are you sore?”
I feel her head nod. “Yes, but it’s wonderful. It’s a wonderful pain.”
I hate that. Hate that her wonder comes from anything short of joy and warmth. “What happened at your party, little queen?”
“I don’t remember. I know I had a dream or daydream or a nightmare, and I…
” She inhales sharply. “It was the first-light after my Rite. I was an adult. Everything played out as it did in real life. Little Tuscany took my hand, stepped into the water, and then Rome thundered in. The memory changed after that, and I…” I hear her swallow.
“Rome disappeared, and I held the little version of myself under the water and drowned her—me.”
“Fuck.” What the fuck do I say! I clench my teeth on rage so potent it feels poisonous.
“I don’t want to kill her. Me. I want to protect her, to save her from everything that happens.” She pauses. “I don’t want to go back, Kong,” she says so softly the words hover on the wind despite their heavy meaning. “You defied my father. Correct? And he chose you because of it?”
I massage the sponge between her legs, not intent on making her orgasm, just showing her affection is light touches, meaningless and meandering, exploratory.
Never receiving much affection as a child, she probably doesn’t know that not everything leads to intensity.
It can balance perfectly, never rushing or diving.
“Yes. I did. A long time ago, before you were even born.”
Her voice hums from my touch. “How?”
“I don’t really want to discuss Turin of The Strait while I wash between your legs, little queen.”
“Will you defy me?” she breathes.
“Never.” The word is low, true, and I hope she feels the conviction in each letter. I let out a heavy sigh. “Rome will want you to return to The Estate when the CR Guard shows him the footage from your birthday.”
She stills but doesn’t tense.
“Little queen?” I press.
Clearing her throat, she says, “When I left The Estate, I remember having this strange feeling as if… as if I would not see it again.”
I don’t understand, but I don’t like her tone. Too soft with indifference. Did the idea of never seeing The Estate again make her sad? No, I don’t believe it did. It makes her happy, and that unsettles me.
“This might be the end,” she adds, turning to face me, long wet hair sticking to her cheeks.
“I'm always in danger. If I weren’t, you wouldn't have a Trade, and I could explore the land freely.
See, I want to be in danger with you, Kong.
Don't take me back there. I want to continue. We can say I had a fever. I am fine now.”
“Lie to Rome?”
“You are sworn to my brother.” I watch her soft golden brows draw in over her pretty gaze. “I am asking you not to return to him. To choose me. My commands. Our vows in that fake church.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“If we die. We die.”
Her statement alone punches all the air from my chest. A growl rips through me. “You will not die—
She cups my cheeks, cutting me off mid-sentence.
Moving, she slides to straddle me, my cock immediately thickening between our bodies.
Her lips brush mine; I’m obsessed. My head full of lead, heavy chains that she commands.
“If I go back to The Estate,” she whispers.
“Hiding us.” She kisses me lightly. “Hiding this. I'll die inside.”
I close my eyes, thinking, hoping that I can convince her to stay here, at the Lower-tower.
After I kill Cairo… Fuck, I don’t know what The Cradle looks like after I kill the Trade Master.
Will war break out? Will the usurpers from the ruins infiltrate while we are in pieces?
There is no denying it; if we cut off The Trade officials, we lose most of our military, Marshalls, and Guards.
Every single citizen in The Cradle operating alongside the Royal Collective does so for their Purpose.
A construct of The Trade. They are not loyal to us—they are born into a system they trust with unquestioning bias.
If we take away that system, where does that leave them?
What do they choose? Are they willing to die for their king, not for their Purpose?
The scene has been set meticulously so that The Trade can’t be weeded out. It binds everything and everyone.
I’m not a political man, not like Bled or Cairo. I was Born For Armour, but removing the regime is akin to pulling an engine from a vehicle. The parts remain but idle.
Fuck. We are fucked. I can’t think about any of that now. Only her.
“I'm not sad,” she offers, and I open my eyes to her pretty face.
“For the first time since I was ten, I'm not frightened.
I'm not frightened to die beside you. I fear the door. The one between us. Please, Kong.” She glides her little hands down my chest, fingers tracing my tattoos.
“Take me to Windmill Five, Kong. Let's continue our campaign as intended.”
Her hands dip beneath the water, and I groan when soft, hesitant fingers touch the top of my cock. My hips jerk.
“Careful,” I warn.
The pad of her thumb slides over my cock slit. “This is sensitive? Here?” she asks.
“Don’t change the subject.”
She giggles softly, and I’m a fucking goner.
Gon-er! Completely, irrationally, conclusively in love with that sound.
Have I heard that before? Tight laughter, yes, huffs of amusement, sure, but a giggle like that?
I groan hoarsely and wrap my arms around her back, pulling her against me and thrusting my tongue between her lips.
She leans up on her knees and drops so her pussy lips brush the aching crown of my cock. I shudder at the feeling, guiding her down my length at a glacial pace until she is impaled.
Fuck—she’s ridiculously tight and hot. My cock throbs inside her, my balls wrenching upward already.
I kiss a trail down her chin to her chest as I hold her, sheathing me. Slow at first. Gentle. Stretching her. Soon, I’m fucking her, beating whimpers through her lips. Not so commanding now, are we?
Our mouths connect again, sounds of pleasure and gasps mingling. My arms are fully wrapped around her, supporting her torso while I bounce my insatiable queen on my massive cock.
“Good girl,” I purr into her mouth. “You’re taking my cock so well.”
She clenches at my praise.
“You like that?” I rumble as her trembling breaths hit my face. “You like the way I fuck your sacred body? The way I defile it, taint it. You’re no longer their queen, their pure, untouched symbol. You’re for my pleasure now, little queen.”
She grips the tub with one hand, bouncing, moving faster and faster. “And you’re for mine,” she pants, her head dropping backward, exposing her long, slender neck.
Tilting forward, I suck on her throat, hips bucking, driving my swollen cock in and out of her writhing inner muscles. It’s been years since I’ve been inside a pussy, and this isn’t just a pussy—this is deified ground. The most forbidden pussy in the fucking land, and. It. Is. Mine.
“Answer me, little queen!”
“Yes”—she gasps— “I like it.”
“Like?”
“Love.”
I feel wild. Maybe it’s the idea of never returning to The Estate, the fantasy of her and me alone.
No Trade. No Crown. Just us. Her giggles, smiles, wet pussy weeping on my face or cock or fingers.
“I don’t want your love when I’m balls deep inside you,” I groan.
“I want your hunger. How long have you been thinking about my cock pumping inside you?”
“Years,” she manages.
“Did you rub your pussy and think about the man at your door? Think about him coming inside and taking you?”
She gasps. “Oh, yes.”
Oh, fuck. While I was sitting there, guarding her door, she was cupping her pussy and wanting my cock.
That image—her sweet writhing body, the bathwater splashing around the tub, and her soft moans—awakens the beast in me.
This inner creature wants to claim, to own, to keep.
I am going to keep the little queen of The Cradle as my own, to sink into at night, to lick in the first-light, to love always.
I don’t know how.
But dammit, I will.
I can tell she is close, because her body is shaking in my hold, so tight any minute it will snap and—
She does. She pulses around me, coming over my cock, her pussy walls bearing down like a wet, velvety vice. The sudden tightening of her muscles damn near squeezes me out of her, so I thrust in, forcing a yelp from her and a growl of possessive need from me.
My balls tighten further, grunts pound from my throat, getting louder and louder. Demanding.
My cock is agonisingly ready to blow, overly sensitive, my vision blurring as I lower my hands, grip her hips and come deep inside The Queen of The Cradle.
We are panting, slowly relaxing against each other, settling down, satiated and… What were we talking about? She distracted me. “You little minx.”
I hear that giggle again, feel the hot, heavy gust of air against my neck. She rocks her hips slowly, and, fuck, it feels good.
“I don't believe Rome will come for me, Kong,” she whispers, tucked against me. “I'm with you. He has Aster and Athens to consider. Short of a war, I don't believe he will leave The Estate. Don’t take me back.”
Her tight pussy still clings to my half-mast cock—too fucking good. “You love your brother,” I say, trying to focus. “Are you sure you want to lie to him?”
“Yes. I command it.”
“Remember your promise to me,” I remind, because only I will be punished for this. Not her. “This is all of my doing. I forced myself inside you. I made you stay with me.”
She nods stiffly, then buries her face in my neck, kissing my throat. “Okay.”
“As you wish, little queen.”