Chapter 40 #2
He sits but leans toward the headboard. Is he rejecting me? My chest tightens, but he's only retrieving a white pillow.
He places it at his feet. "You're still my queen when your lips are around my cock."
Oh, my.
Kneeling, I shuffle onto the pillow between his powerful thighs. A memory crashes back, making me freeze. ‘A girl that pretty is probably bad at head. No one that pretty can suck cock.’
“I was going to ask Ana to teach me how to pleasure you,” I admit. “But I only want to share this side of myself with you. I may not be very good at this.”
“I have no doubt your inexperienced mouth will be the death of me.” He tilts his head, eyes tracing my face with reverence. "Unbuckle my pants, little queen."
Running his hands through my long hair, he watches his fingers slide between the golden strands as I fumble with his belt buckle. A queen is utterly useless at times. I've never done this before. I've always worn gowns, mostly dressed by my Army ladies.
He leans forward and lifts a piece of my hair to his nose, inhaling as I finally free the belt. The rest is easy. I unbutton his pants, revealing the top of dark hair trailing into his briefs. I stare at that hair. So male.
"Take me out."
Swallowing, I reach into his briefs and grasp his thick, hard length. His heat pulses in my palm. When I struggle to free him, he helps me. My eyes widen as his dick springs free, bobbing in front of my face.
He strips off his shirt, exposing his fully inked muscular chest and twin Adonis bulges. I sweep my palms down the long, arrowing protrusions, fascinated. My mouth opens with a breathy exhale.
His hand cradles the back of my head, supporting me. “Don’t be afraid.”
"You're so big." I gaze at it, awed. It's thick and straight, with a slightly larger head that seems soft and warm. Along its length, the skin is thin but tough, stretching over each deep purple vein. It's not pretty; it’s masculine perfection, and it doesn’t lie.
When my Kong is aroused, it pumps full of blood—as it is now.
I would rather touch him than any other; I love his body.
He shifts to the edge of the mattress and grips his dick at the base, squeezing until it swells further. "Look at me."
I peer up at him, finding his gaze dark and demanding. "Open your mouth."
I open, and he rubs the warm crown around my lips, moving them, playing with the flesh. A deep rumble fills his chest, and I squirm on the pillow, my insides clenching.
“Grab the base. Like this.” He strokes twice and lets go of his erection.
One of my hands grips his thigh, and the other curls around his dick.
“Very good. Now put the tip in your mouth, little queen.” He brushes his knuckles down my cheek. “Good girl.”
Holding his fierce eyes, I wrap my mouth around the crown, earning myself an animalistic rumble from his chest.
The plush head is smooth, soft, warm, almost velvety. I suck, drooling over the skin, feeling the saliva stream onto my fist. As I take him deeper, he hits the back of my throat.
I gag and squeeze the base.
He groans. "Good girl."
At the sound of his praise, I practically mewl. "Your mouth feels so warm and wet."
Fuelled with pride, I pull out and swallow him again. I lick and suck and hum, not overthinking, just enjoying the way he responds.
Growls leave him. "My little queen sucks my dick like its dessert." His fingers curl in my hair, dominant, holding me still while he thrusts into my waiting mouth.
Pleasuring this man captivates me, connects me with him on a primal level. I am present. Him and me. Me and him.
My gaze never leaves his as my eyes fill with tears and my mouth leaks saliva.
"The sight of your drool coating my cock is enough to make me blow in your mouth, little queen," he rasps. "Do you want to suck me dry and fill your cheeks with my cum?"
Oh, my.
His filthy mouth.
I feel a moment of pressure to perform but ignore it. It’s Kong. My Kong. He doesn’t expect anything from me.
I nod, and his thrusting becomes precise and relentless. Breathing is hard, so I concentrate on inhaling and exhaling through my nose.
My face is covered in tears.
“Fuck. You look beautiful. Try swallowing when I hit the back of your throat,” he rasps. “That’s it. T-that’s a good girl.”
Within minutes, I learn to swallow at the right moment, letting him enter my throat.
We fall into a rhythm.
I suck and swallow.
He thrusts and guides.
His pleasure is everything, but he knows I need his reassurance. "You're perfect," he offers, voice gravelly and choked. "You don't like to eat but can swallow my cock on demand. Look at the way your throat swells when my cock is down it. Fuck. That’s so good."
He wraps his hand around mine, working our hands together, his dick dripping and thickening in my mouth.
Blinking tears away, I watch his eyes glaze over with pleasure before closing as he loses control.
He drops his head back, shuddering and groaning, thrusting recklessly. Desire pulses between my legs; I want him deep inside me, rubbing against my needy insides.
I suck him harder, his thigh tightening beneath my hand. Just as Kong lets out a savage growl, his abdominals bunch, and hot fluid bursts into my mouth, spilling from the corners of my lips. I relish the taste, rolling his salty release around my tongue.
Panting, his hand cups below my lips. "Spit if you need to, little queen."
I don’t—I swallow easily, licking his half-mast dick with a playful grin. Tell me you’re proud of me, Kong. Tell me.
"Such a good little queen.” A satiated smile slides across his mouth. This smile is loose and lethargic, eyes, cheeks, mouth, all only half responding. “I’m so proud of you. Are you proud of yourself?”
A sigh leaves me. “Yes.” I lay my head in his lap, and he strokes my hair.
As he combs his rough, warm fingers through the strands, something he said earlier crawls into my belly and flips it.
He queen-proofs my room… He only cares to keep me safe—at any expense.
So, he won’t let me visit Ruins S, and I doubt I can talk to him about the orphans.
He may become suspicious of my actions, maybe even stop me from going. ..
I think I’ve always suspected as much, think I’ve always known this is something I have to do alone. Completely alone.
“Come here,” Kong rumbles, his voice grounding me, bring back to this moment. I am not alone right now.
I rise, my legs trembling from kneeling. He guides me onto his lap until I am straddling him, my backside on his thighs. Even through my dress, I feel his heat, his hardness, bulking muscles, virile physique, pressing insistently against me.
Leaning into my ear, he murmurs, “Is my little queen wet?”
I nod, words lost as his large hands slide up my sides, tracing every curve through the fabric. My skin tingles.
He leans back. Our eyes lock while I reach behind to loosen the purple armour’s boning. Though it looks rigid, the material yields easily as I remove it. We are so close. His breath is mine. Mine is his. His heart thunders. Mine matches its pace.
I pull the dress over my head, but it snags on my long hair, so I shake it free.
Kong catches the dress, folds it carefully, and sets it on the bed. Respect. This man has the utmost respect for me.
Goosebumps rise on my skin from the intensity of his gaze.
My white bra and knickers contrast my tanned flesh in the soft light. He stands with me wrapped around his waist, then crawls onto the bed, settling me beneath him.
He kisses my lips.
Once. Twice.
I love him.
I lift my hips, curling my aching core against him. I arch into him again, over and over, as our bodies rub together—smooth, supple skin against hard and rough.
His big hand slips between us, fingers sliding beneath my knickers, brushing my wet folds. “Your pussy is soaking wet for me. Did you enjoy being on your knees for your Guardian? Licking his dripping cock?”
I pulse against him, moaning, “Please. I need you inside me.”
His fingers and thumb play with me gently, bringing me to an easy orgasm, then another, before he slides my underwear down my legs. I writhe, kicking them off, wanting them gone, wanting to feel full of him like I am starved.
He settles back over me, and I lock my legs around his thighs, cheek pressed against his hard chest.
He’s so big in this position; his lips brush my forehead, his body covers mine, consumes mine. I feel his thick crown notch into me.
Slowly.
Pushing.
When he enters me, I gasp at the sweet, intense stretch. He begins to move in and out, slowly, gauging the right amount of weight to descend on me.
Oh, my, he is heavy.
So heavy, I strain for breath, but it is wonderful. We find a deliberate pace with my hands gripping his contracting back muscles.
“Do you need more air, little queen? Or do you want to feel completely taken?”
“Taken,” I whisper.
Each time he presses into me, my body tenses and releases. Every time he draws out, I lift, chasing the pressure and stretch.
The sound of our rough breathing fills the room, mixed with moans and gasps as our bodies move in perfect rhythm.
“Oh.” My mind swims in pleasure again, my lungs squeeze for air, my thighs tighten as he starts to fuck me.
Hard.
“Oh, fuck,” he pants. “That’s it. Take me, little queen.”
Tremors thrash through me as his lips slide across my forehead, his thumbs brushing my damp cheeks, holding me steady for his relentless drives. “Good girl.” He practically snarls. “I’m losing control, little queen.”
“Kong…”
“You feel too good,” he growls.
He feels good—every pulsing second feels like freedom, like rebellion, like love he can’t control, and neither can I. He keeps me buried beneath him, anchoring me as my body opens for his pleasure.
With a low, guttural groan, he spills inside me, clutching me so tightly any air I had leaves me. I gasp and climax, my insides clinging to him just as fiercely as he thrusts.
We pant.
The room spins.
He shifts his weight to one side, but pulls me with him, keeping himself inside me.
Air comes back.
“You’re mine, little queen,” he says as if saying it will make it true.
I bury my face in his shoulder, letting myself believe it—I am his. They can’t keep us apart. They won’t.
He draws the sheets up around us, possessing me in the circle of his arms. I lie awake, watching red and black shadows dance across the wall. Kong’s breathing grows steady and deep, but sleep eludes me.
My hand finds my belly, feeling his echo inside me. What would it be like to grow his baby? A living manifestation of our love. Of our choice to be together against all odds.
I will never know.
But maybe I can grow old with this man—one who would kill and die for me.