4. LAYLA
Four
LAYLA
“Girl. GIRL! He looked at you like he wanted to eat you alive!”
Monique bursts into my rooms the second I’m back from dinner, eyes huge, hands flapping.
“I saw it. I was standing by the dessert table, which, by the way, the lemon tarts were mid, very disappointing, and I watched him stare at your ass the entire walk to the dining hall. He didn’t blink.
Not once. Like some horny blond predator. ”
“Again, he’s the enemy, Mo.” I groan, burying my face in my hands. “This is a disaster. I’m supposed to hate him.”
“But do you?” she asks softly, brushing hair away from my forehead.
“Yes?” I ask more than I state.
Mo smiles. “But you also want him to bend you over the throne?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. Because the answer is yes. Yes, I want that. I want it so bad!
“That’s what I thought.” Monique plops down next to me. “Look. I’m not saying marry for love. I’m saying marry for peace, fuck for fun, and maybe, just maybe, let yourself enjoy the fact that your arranged husband is objectively the hottest man on either side of this mess.”
“He called our ancestors stubborn,” I grumble, crossing my arms.
Mo smiles softly and squeezes my hand. “They were stubborn. And so were his. We’re all stubborn. That’s why we’ve been at war for a century.”
I roll my eyes. “He smirked at me.”
“Because you keep glaring at him. Which is hot, by the way. Very, ‘I don’t take your shit’. Love that for you. He probably gets off on it.”
“Monique!”
“What? I’m just saying. Big, tough kings love a challenge. And you, my dear, are the ultimate challenge.”
We both laugh. God, I needed this.
After my girl leaves, I strip out of my dress and climb into bed… already wet… a-freaking-gain.
I slide two fingers between my legs and fucking moan. My mind goes straight to him. The stupid blond giant.
I picture him shoving me down, spreading my thighs with his huge hands. He’s gonna be thick and long. I just know it. And I’ll feel every fucking inch as he forces his way inside me, stretching my pussy until it hurts so good.
I rub my clit faster, pinching one nipple hard.
“Fuck,” I rasp out.
In my head, Soren’s pounding into me, his massive body covering mine, grunting like the feral beast he is.
“Take my cock, Layla. Gonna fill you until you’re fucking dripping.
” I imagine him pinning my wrists, his hips slamming into mine, his deep voice growling in my ear.
“Gonna fucking breed you. Put my baby in your belly. Watch you grow round with my heir while you’re still fucking pissed about it. ”
The image of my stomach rounded, tits heavy, carrying his child while he fucks me again and again sends me crashing over the edge. I come hard, thighs shaking, biting my lip.
Then I lie there, chest heaving.
I still hate him. But my body wants him. Bad. And in a few weeks, I’m going to have to let the bastard do every filthy thing to me I just imagined… I’m so fucked.