EPILOGUE
Vincent Hawthorne
H eaven.
That’s precisely where I am.
After being away from Camilla for so long, I’ve learned to cherish every moment together. Especially with my woman being such a busy one…
There is nowhere I would rather be but balls deep inside my wife.
Sometimes, I still don’t believe she forgave me and accepted me back. Not when I still haven’t forgiven myself. That’s why I vowed to do right by her whether it’s with breakfast in bed, flowers, and little escapades or with mind-blowing sex.
“Oh, god,” she moans loudly.
The sounds are erotic and only spur me on as I lose myself in her.
“No god can save you, little Milla,” I husk, slowly thrusting forward. “It’s my name I want to hear.”
The fact that the most powerful woman in this realm, who everyone respects or fears, enters these four walls and fully submits to me is a huge turn on. Even after all the hurt, she doesn’t hold back, and that may be one of the things I admire the most in Camilla.
Camilla Marie of Severna loves fully and without restraints. And she does forgive, too, with such a soft and loving heart that is only subdued by her assertive personality.
And she chose to be mine.
“Vincent,” she whines, her hands tugging at the silk ribbons that keep her restrained.
What a fucking sight.
Her fair skin contrasts with the deep red from the ribbons that tug at her wrists and ankles while her straight black hair cascades down her chest, over her breasts. With every squirming movement, it moves and tickles her taut nipples, often revealing them to me.
These soft legs spread wide open as her dripping centre swallows all of me. Warm and wet. Exhilarating. All the swells of her body get me drunk on pleasure, the old and the new ones. And while I love her in every way and shape, like this, bound and surrendering to me is my favourite.
“Vincent,” she grits out, annoyed at my slow movements.
She’s trying to get this over and done with. That’s pointless, and she should know by now.
It’s been roughly two hours, and I have purposely kept her in here today. It’s her birthday, and little miss here thought she’d still get to work. Not on my watch . Those leeches of politicians get to take her away from me almost every day of the year.
Not today.
“Patience, darling,” I taunt her with a smug smirk. “You feel so good around me. Let me feel you.”
With a roll of my hips, I feel that swollen wall of hers, hitting my target. “Oh!”
“That’s it,” I coo. “Now, squeeze my dick, little Milla .”
She’s a firecracker outside of these four walls. She has grown to be one of the most impetuous women I have ever known. Brutally honest, confident, and always to-the-point. She earned the respect and loyalty of everyone in the government—and mine, too, even though she’s always had it from the start.
Her claim on that Crown was fair and solid. The only resistance she found for being a woman quickly went down the drain with how fast she learned to deal with the obstacles they provided.
Watching her rule still fascinates me every day. I help, of course, but it’s all her. And fuck if it isn’t sexy. But inside our bedroom, she gives away all the control to me. And here, I thrive on it.
She can rule the world for all I care for as long as I have this. Her. I need nothing else.
“What would the world think if they knew?” I whisper before tilting her hips up to change the angle and drive in deeper. Slowly. “If they knew that their almighty and gracious queen submits this easily to me?”
Fuck. My hips jerk on their own, slamming into her. I always lose control when it comes to her.
“Yes,” she cries out when my rhythm quickens. “Faster! Harder!”
A shiver travels down my spine, warning me of what’s to come. White spots cloud my vision, turning Camilla’s body into a light blur of stars and delight.
“Give it to me,” I demand, speeding up a notch.
Lost in an ocean of sensations and in a sky of blissfulness, we surrender ourselves to the victory of pleasure. It’s fast, hard, and intense. Searing through our bodies into our souls, weaving us together for life.
My wife. My queen. My life.
“I–”
With one hand squeezing her waist and the other firmly gripping her thigh, I relish in the way her muscles tense underneath my touch. Watching as her back arches and her head falls back with her pussy clamping down on me.
Bloody hell!
Light and darkness. Heaven and hell.
Control flees from my body, forcing a choked grunt out of my lips as I come. My hips jerk a few more times before I finally still my movements. With the adrenaline slowly wearing off, achiness starts to spread through my muscles.
“Hot damn,” she whispers, and I chuckle, letting my body fall on top of hers.
“I fucking love you,” I mumble to her hair with closed eyes.
“I lo–”
“ No!” someone yells before the doors slam open.
What the–
“Get out!” I boom.
Hastily grabbing the sheets to cover Camilla, I stand and turn around, still sporting a half-mast and not fucking caring who it is.
Two women yelp, turning around while my brother, still with a panicked face, widens his eyes. The butler, a new one Camilla hired right after we married, stands awkwardly to the side.
“I tried to tell them not to come in,” Edgar starts.
“And why the fuck were you able to open a locked door?” I growl.
They could have seen her. They probably fucking have.
“We’ve seen the marks,” one of the girls whispers, turning her back to me.
Finally, remembering I am stark naked, I grab a blanket from the bottom of the bed and wrap it around my waist.
“What fucking marks?” I ask, confused.
“You fucking didn’t,” Camilla chimes in for the first time, her voice deadly calm.
I know this tone. The keep-it-together tone. Looking at her, I see her head tilting up, dropping the sheet down a little, and I hurry to cover her nipple.
Fuck. I forgot to untie her.
“Finally,” she huffs when I set her wrists free.
With a sheepish smile, I kiss both her wrists, hands, and cheeks before giving her mouth a light smooch.
She lets me, but as soon as I let her go, she goes back to the serious demeanour, scolding the people who just barged into our private moments.
“I fucking told you–No. I ordered you to stay out of my business,” she hisses, and all the girls bow their heads in shame.
“What the fuck is going on?” I exclaim. “Why are two men—one being my fucking brother—and two women barging into my bedroom while I am fu–uhm, spending time with my wife?”
“We’ve heard the rumours and seen the news...” the second girl trails off, and I freeze.
Tension creeps up on my neck at the realisation. And while I commend them for worrying about their queen, it makes me feel both angry and ashamed.
Things have been perfect ever since she said yes except for this.
After that impromptu wedding request, an engagement party followed. Right after we got married, I moved into the palace, begrudgingly leaving my title to my brother. All that time away was pure fucking torture, and I got my revenge on it.
I indulged in her company and her body for as much as I could. I still do.
And because the bed, the privacy of our room is the only place where I have my Camilla, the true woman. My woman. I get wild sometimes.
We get wild.
And she has had some crazy requests before, too. We got to know each other in the deepest ways possible—both physically and emotionally.
Everything I do is with her consent and for both of our enjoyment. Still, I have left marks.
Marks that left me concerned and apprehensive, despite her telling me she loved them. “They remind me of how good you make me feel,” she had said. And fuck, I ate that up.
But that elating sensation went as quickly as it came back when I saw the first headline in the newspapers.
Queen Camilla the Perfect. Is she so perfect, after all? Maybe our beloved queen is just another bird inside a gilded cage.
That fucking title was followed by an extensive story from a witness that worked in the palace, about how I abused her and made her do my bidding to the point of selling illegal pictures taken inside of the palace. Of her, in her private quarters with some of the temporary marks I have left occasionally, to the entire fucking world to see.
I was livid. And while Camilla told me not to worry, that she’d deal with it, I still noticed.
Everyone’s stances changed. There were stolen glances and hushed whispers. Hesitant reactions and avoidant answers. Everyone fucking believed these lies. That I fucking hit my wife.
“Bloody hell, are you stupid or dense?” she yells, and Edgar finally snaps, falling into a chair and laughing.
Of course.
“My Queen.” The third one takes one step forward. “We have covered the bruises wi–”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Camilla cuts her off with a strong tone. “Instead of running around like headless chickens and believing everything those useless people whisper, you should have believed me. Do you think I’d be with a man who abuses me? I could have him out of my life with a snap of my fingers. This is simply ridiculous.”
I clench my jaw, discomfort taking over. Finally addressing the elephant in the room is both dreadful and relieving.
“Then, what is going on?”
“Virgin Mary,” Edgar curses. “You’re both stupid and dense. They fuck! And they fuck hard!”
“Edgar,” I hiss.
“What?” he exclaims. “It’s true! You’re two kinky deviants who go at it like dogs in the heat. I swear to god, I don’t know how you haven’t destroyed the palace yet!”
“What?” the maid squeaks out.
“Want a drawing, little bird?” Edgar smirks as he turns to her, a heated glint in his gaze. “These two like to go the extra mile...Spanking. Gagging...” He glances at Camilla. “And bondage, as it seems from our queen’s wrists. These two are just doing the nasty. Now, for the love of god, leave them be.”
“Get out,” I grit.
My annoying brother chuckles as his hands settle on the poor girl’s shoulders. When I charge towards him, he jumps a little, running off to the door.
“My Lord, if you’ll allow me.” Joshua comes right in with his back turned to us right after everyone else has cleared out.
Just what I fucking needed!
“I’d think that maybe finding the same marks on His Majesty would do the trick of shutting down the rumours.”
“That would only create more rumours,” Camilla answers, annoyed.
“Or it’d tell them the truth,” I add, pensive.
“Are you mad?” Her voice rises, dread filling it.
God, I love this woman so damn much that I wouldn’t mind letting the whole world know she can bind me and gag me how many times she wants.
“The only other way to shut down the rumours and avoid the topic is by giving them something better to talk about...”
“Which is?” she asks pointedly, and my heart skips a beat.
Fear grips my neck in a chokehold as my brain anticipates the words he is about to say. The information we don’t want to disclose to the world. The knowledge that Camilla wants to keep between these four walls for as long as she can.
“That a royal baby’s on the way.”
The End