Chapter 4

4

Rex

Well, I’m good and screwed now, aren’t I?

My heart is permanently stuck up in my throat. I can’t stop looking at the queen, probably with big, idiotic hearts in my eyes. She’s so fragile and beautiful, the sunset bathing her in a glow as we walk back toward the palace. I’m feeling so protective, I’m half hoping a dragon roars down out of the bloody sky, just so I can slay it for her.

We had to wait until the guard rotation so I could sneak her in through the back entrance, so nobody would see her in wet clothes and wonder what the hell happened.

What in God’s name did happen?

Half the time at the inlet, I thought I might be dreaming. The queen, the most beautiful girl in all of creation, gave me her mouth so freely. Let me kiss it, put my tongue so deep inside of it, I could taste her pretty whimpers. I could have…she would have let me put my cock inside of her, had I not slowed things down. And I really need to pull my head out of my ass.

You cannot fuck the queen of Downsriver.

She is in a vulnerable place. That’s all this is. She needed comfort after the death of her parents and I was there to provide it. Tomorrow, a couple of well-groomed, normal-sized princes will come swaggering into the palace and she’ll forget all about the fat guard.

My heart drops from my throat to the bottom of my stomach.

Ah Jesus, I’m in love with her.

I knew it already, didn’t I? But now I know she’s selfless and sweet, on top of being gorgeous. She also has a good sense of humor, a sense of adventure. And a pussy that could make a man cry at his luck. Seriously, I almost did shed a tear when I saw the soft, little petals shielding such a delicious shade of virginal pink.

How am I going to keep from driving my sword through the heart of the man who puts a ring on her finger, thus earning the right to claim her?

How will I fucking stand it?

I need to remind myself of one thing.

It’s not like I, Rexington Monroe, might have a chance with Queen Britta if she doesn’t marry a prince. The whole idea is laughable. I should have a sword driven clean through my chest for even thinking such a thing. Britta deserves someone who was born to rule. Someone worthy of her status. Someone better looking, for godsakes.

My legs feel like lead weights as I guide Britta up the back staircase. I’m going to leave her alone in her room and think about what I’ve done. I’m certainly not going to think about the fact that she ordered me to have an orgasm—and I loved it. That I craved being ordered about by the little queen. I’m not going to think about it for the next seventy years straight. Seriously.

We reach the hallway where the queen’s bedchamber is located, both of us stopping short. Up ahead, there is a guard pacing, looking confused.

“Oi,” he calls, deflating a little. “There you are, Monroe. I’m guarding the queen tonight or didn’t you remember?”

The queen steps out from behind me and the guard stumbles back, slapping a hand over his heart and bowing. “My deepest apologies, Your Majesty, I didn’t see you there.”

“Think nothing of it,” Britta says lightly, though there is a line forming between her brows. “What do you mean you’re guarding me tonight?”

“Those were my orders, Your Majesty. Monroe has the night off.”

She blinks up at me.

For a moment, I’m confused as she is. And then I remember the date in a nauseating rush. “Damn. I forgot. It’s Priscilla, my youngest sister’s, sixteenth birthday. I asked for leave from duty for the night. Weeks ago.”

This timing is easily the worst in history.

One does not simply give the queen an orgasm and vanish for the night.

Again, I live with five sisters and Britta’s shifting expressions are telling me everything I need to know. She knows it’s ridiculous to feel abandoned, but she feels it nonetheless. Her chin comes up bravely, but she’s looking past my shoulder. Trying not to let her emotions get the best of her. And lord, I’m so in love with her, it’s excruciating. “Of course. You have to go. Sixteen is a very important birthday for a girl.” She glances toward my replacement, back at me. “Have a lovely time, Mister Monroe, and please send my regards.”

Oh now I just want to follow her into that bedchamber and lick between her legs until she stops speaking to me so formally. She knows her prim goodbye is going to drive me crazy, too, doesn’t she? I’m supposed to serve her. I crave the privilege of serving her. So when she gives me a small smile and closes herself inside the room, I want to roar in frustration.

“Are you off, then?” the guard asks, casually, no sense of the undercurrents between me and the queen, thankfully. “Anything I should know?”

“Yeah. If you set foot inside that room, I’ll fucking kill you.”

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t dare. Do you think I fancy a trip to the gallows?”

No. Obviously not.

Apparently I’m planning a trip there, however, because I’m definitely considering sneaking the queen out of the palace, so I can bring her to my sister’s birthday party.

It is a terrible idea.

Terrible.

For one, I’d be putting her in danger. Sure, I would never let harm come to Britta. Not while I’m breathing. But I doubt the palace advisors or the people of Downsriver would see it that way, if we were caught. They would only see me bringing her outside the palace walls, to a place where she could be vulnerable to people who disagree with the decisions of her parents. Or citizens who are simply overzealous in their affection. Men who might try—

Nope.

Can’t even think about.

I’m not doing this.

What was I thinking? Bringing a queen to the modest, thatch-roofed home where I grew up? It smells of cow shit half the time. And my sisters… My God, they would drive her daft with questions about dresses and other nonsense.

No. Not happening.

Not sneaking the queen out to a party, like someone with a death wish.

With that settled, I nod and descend the stone steps…but I pause halfway down.

A party would go a long way toward brightening Britta’s spirits. Doesn’t she deserve that? And the possibility that she might be feeling abandoned is eating me alive. I’ve only been her personal guard for a matter of hours and now I’m skipping out on my duty?

I shove a hand through my hair, let a breath seep out.

Well, if I’m going to sneak her out, I’ll have to be crafty about it.

I take a moment to think, then climb the stairs once more. When I reach the top, my replacement guard does a double-take. “Back so soon? Must have been a shite party.”

“They’re giving out free beer in the courtyard.”

“What?” He shoves off the wall. “Cover my post a tick. I’ll be right back.”

Off he runs.

Well that was easy.

Making a mental note to make sure such an idiot is never put in place to guard Britta again, I knock lightly on the door.

Britta opens it a few seconds later, her long, black hair loose around her shoulders, having been taken out of its bun. She’s so beautiful, her face kissed with candlelight, I have to clear my throat before I can speak. Was I really allowed to perform cunnilingus on this angel? “I, um…” I have to cough again. “Well, this is probably a horrible idea, but I got to wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming to the party with me. You can just say no—”

“You’re inviting me to the party?” she breathes, eyes shooting wide.

I rub at the back of my neck. “Yes.”

“Oh, I would love to come. Yes, please.” She retreats into the room, turns in a circle. “I don’t have a gift.”

“I reckon the queen showing up will be gift enough.”

She nods, gracing me with a smile that very nearly kills me.

For a moment, we just stare at each other. I could go on staring at her all night, but I hear footsteps jogging closer from the opposite end of the hall. “If we’re going to go, love, we have to move fast. Do you have something to cover your head?”

“Yes.” Britta races back into the room a moment, then returns, a shawl over one arm.

She puts her hand in mine trustingly, but I don’t take the time to let that blow my mind—I’m holding Britta’s hand—because we have to move. She presses her free hand over her mouth on our flight down the stairs to suppress her giggles, and I can’t help but chuckle, too. At the bottom of the stairs, I signal for her to remain inside the entrance while I check for witnesses, then I’m pulling her out into the night behind me.

The stables aren’t far from the palace, and in no time, I have Britta behind me on my horse, her slim arms barely making it halfway around my waist to hold on. I try not to dwell on that as we ride through the palace grounds, Britta huddled against my back with the shawl draped over her head and hiding her face. Several perimeter guards eye the woman behind me, but say nothing, probably assuming she’s another member of the staff. It’s not unusual for guards to bring women home for a tumble, though I’ve never done so. Hopefully they’re not keeping track.

We make it to the drawbridge that leads out of the palace, into the kingdom of Downsriver. There are a couple of guards stationed there with unpleasant expressions.

“Free beer in the courtyard,” I call, jerking a thumb over my shoulder.

“Oi!” They brighten automatically. “You don’t say.”

Both guards trundle off toward the palace.

“Jesus,” I mutter. “The palace guards need to be put through some mandatory training, love. They’re not protecting you well enough.”

Britta is silent for so long, I worry I’ve offended her, until she says, “You could be in charge of the training, couldn’t you?”

“Me?” Surprised by the comment, I shake my head. “No, I’m not a…leader.”

“You’re the queen’s personal guard,” she points out, her arms tightening around me, her cheek pressing to my back. “Doesn’t that make you their leader in itself?”

Her confidence in me threatens to inflate my ego, but there’s no way I’ll let it. “Britta, I’m sneaking you out of the palace for a party. I’m fairly certain that makes the worst offender of them all. I’m only a member of the guard in the first place because…”

I stop talking before I reveal everything.

How I couldn’t think straight once I’d seen her in the procession.

How I hungered and worried and paced until I was stationed directly outside of her door where I belong. Serving her. Guarding her.

“I should prepare you for my sisters,” I say, deftly changing the subject. “They can get a little rambunctious. And loud.”

“I’m going to love them. I know it.” She pauses. “Have you brought many women home?”

“With my chiseled good looks, Britta? I’ve been beating the women off with sticks.”

She doesn’t laugh. “You keep hinting at the belief that you’re unattractive, Rex. What nonsense is that?” Her small hands trace up my chest, her fingertips ghosting over my nipples, dragging back down to tease the strained waistline of my pants. “Maybe you have so much goodness and strength and courage inside of you, it just needed more room to grow.”

My throat constricts. “Britta…”

Does she really believe what she says? No…it can’t be possible. I’m the big block of comfort and distraction when she needs it most. I’m honored to be those things for her. But I can’t let myself start to think nonsense. That she could really like me. Even if she did, nothing could come from it, so I need to quit being a fool. I need to try and be her friend and be happy for whatever amount of time I’m allotted before…

Before her comfort and happiness are someone else’s responsibility.

“So…” Britta’s pinky finger sneaks beneath my waistband, trailing side to side in my pubic hair, and my cock stiffens at a startling pace, my balls hardening excitedly. “You’ve brought no women home?”

“No,” I rasp. “None.”

“But you’ve…been with women before?”

I look back over my shoulder to gauge her expression, but her face is hidden by the shawl. It’s ridiculous to think she could be jealous, anyway. She’s the queen. I’m a guard. Surely I don’t have to worry about her feelings being hurt about things that happened in the past. “Ahhh. Sure, I’m thirty years old, Britta. Of course there have been…times.” I frown at the road ahead and let the honesty flow. “But truthfully, I can’t recall the details of a single one. Meanwhile…I can remember the number of buttons on your dress two weeks ago. And there’s been no one at all since…” Since I saw you for the first time. “For a good while, anyway.”

Britta nods against my back and I relax, feeling like I just walked through a minefield. Why? I have no idea. She could probably care less about the whole situation. She’s just making small talk.

She adds a second finger inside my waistband. A third and a forth.

They push lower, her fingertips brushing my cock.

“Now, Britta…” I swallow hard, looking down and marveling at the sight of her graceful hand lodged inside my pants, my bulge nearly bursting the seams. “We’re going to be there soon. I can’t arrive like this.”

Her fist curls around me, and I choke on a groan. And then I feel her lips kissing up my spine and flames engulf me. “I don’t like thinking of you with women,” she says quietly, still planting kisses in the middle of my back, her fist beginning to stroke me. “I hate it. Is that…terribly improper?”

“No,” I say raggedly. “But it’s unnecessary. I…”

“What?” she whispers.

Oh God, I can’t hold back. The truth is scaling the sides of my throat, desperate to be out in the open. “My cock has belonged to you, my queen, since the day I saw you.”

Her gasp mingles with the loud rapping of my heart. Waiting for her response to my—probably ill-advised—confession, my hands twist in the reins.

“Good,” she whispers, finally, squeezing me tightly in her grip.

That single word, combined with her possessive hold, nearly makes me come. I have to concentrate and bite my lip to stop the semen from spewing out. I’ve never experienced this part of myself. There was never even a hint that I might wish to be…obedient for a woman.

It’s all Britta.

She releases my cock only to trace the seam of my balls with a fingertip. Then she slowly scoops them up and tests them in her soft palm. “Are these mine, too?”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

“Yes,” I say raggedly. “Yours.”

How is this really happening? This tiny slip of a girl has a giant by the balls. Literally. She could ask me for anything in the world and I would agree to it. I burn for the chance to please her. Her happiness is the only way to be fulfilled. It makes no sense that she is touching me, an ugly bastard, with her unsoiled hand, but I am too enthralled to stop her.

Too hot. Too grateful. Too desperate.

Her soft hand massages my heavy balls, shooting sparks down to my toes. My cock is engorged to the point of agony, sweat beginning to arrive in embarrassing places. Someone approaches from the opposite direction on the road and I hastily cover my lap with the flap of my unbuttoned uniform jacket. The man waves on his way past us and I nod back. No big deal. I’m just being jacked off by the queen on our way to a party. Happens every day.

She finishes exploring my sack and slips that sweet hand around my dick again, pumping it quickly now. So quickly the air bursts out of me. “I’m going to disgrace myself, Britta.”

“I would like to kiss you here. The way you did to me this afternoon.”

Lust rips into me at the very thought.

I’ve never had a female’s mouth there.

Let alone a mouth as sweet and pure as this girl’s. This girl I worship. It would be the very death of me. “No, love. No.” Using the cuff of my jacket, I swipe sweat from my upper lip, painfully aware that my thighs are beginning to shake, my loins seizing up. And oh Christ, her touch is the perfect torture. Soft and inexperienced, but determined. “You will not serve the servant.”

She leans up and whispers against my neck, her grip flying up and down my throbbing staff. “I can do whatever I want with this,” she murmurs innocently. “It’s mine.”

I erupt.

My come spills into her palm, into my pants, some of it splashing onto the saddle. Relief like I’ve never known courses through my veins, nearly making me dizzy. And it’s not just the pressure in my balls that is lessened, it’s the packed feeling in my chest, because here come the words. Sentiments I try so hard to keep to myself, but in the throes, I have no control. “I’ll do anything for you. I’ll lick that royal little pussy every second of the fucking day. I’ll make you come when you’re horny. When you command it. I will serve you any way you allow. I will…” I thrust my hips into her grip and release my final drops, the consuming tension finally deserting me. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” I rasp, dizzy, shocked at the fortune she’s granted me. “Thank you.”

She kisses me on the shoulder and the center of my back, removing her hand from my pants, wiping my spend on the corner of her shawl. Then she wraps her arms around me from behind, as far as they’ll go. “I can’t seem to stop touching you,” she whispers. “If it begins to vex you, do tell me so I can try to stop.”

“No chance of that, love,” I say gruffly, my heart rattling around in my ribcage. I bring one of her hands to my mouth, kissing the knuckles. “No chance of that.”

Tonight is a dream and it’s barely begun. But I’m already thinking about the torturous hell arriving in the form of two princes in the morning.