only he could. His cock was so stiff he had trouble freeing it from the confines of his breeches. He felt like a green lad in his eagerness to sink inside of her. Beneath him, she lay panting, her eyes glittering with passionate fire as she watched him free his lance.
Xander was large, and he knew she’d not been with a man since they’d parted. A voice told him to go slowly, but he did not heed it and she cried out anew at the force of his entry. She was so hot, so tight. She cried out a second time and wrapped her long white legs around him. She clawed his back through his tunic.
Xander thrust into her, consumed now by a furious need to possess her completely.
“You’re mine,” he said, his voice deep and desperate. “You belong to the king and he will never, ever let you go. Do you understand?”
She was looking into his eyes, could see his need. And the woman who had been sobbing only moment earlier now looked wild and wise and knowing. There was power in her surrender; they both knew it.
“Say it!” he said, fucking her so hard he had to take hold to keep her from slamming into the headboard. “Say it!”
“I’m yours! I am the property of the king!” She came as she said it, the slick, hot walls of her pussy drawing on his cock, coaxing the seed in explosive bursts. She hugged him to her with arms and legs, holding him there until he’d spent completely.
Chapter Nine
The following morning dawned with a golden glow of sun shining through the window of Avin’s room. As she stirred, the sweet tenderness between her legs reminded her of the training that had ended with Xander’s learning the truth about the betrayal that had separated them, and her learning that he had never really stopped loving her.
But with that realization came a new pain—one neither of them had spoken of. She was a deposed and despised queen of a land he now ruled. They could never be together, not even if their love had been rekindled.
True to his word, Xander sent a new maid—a motherly matron called Sal—to be housed in the small but comfortable chamber next to Avin’s. There were also gifts to help the former queen pass her time—books, embroidery fabric and thread, a lute, and bowls of fruits and cakes.
But despite the improvements to her confinement, Avin found it hard to relax. Before he’d left her chamber, Xander had told Avin that the barons of Windbourne would be attending a feast that evening ahead of the coronation. They expected to see the queen leashed and at his feet, but Xander told Avin that while she would attend collared, she would be seated at his side.
This sparked mixed feelings for Avin. She knew why it had to be done. The coronation was approaching. Her show of humility would satisfy a people reliant on symbolism. Her time in the tower had helped her work through some of her anger, to reflect. The people of Windbourne were simple adherents to a simple religion, and a simple way of life. She’d come to an untimely rule after generations of kings. Although Windbourne had no laws of primogeniture forbidding women from ascending to the throne, no one in living Windbourne history could remember a female doing so. With her father’s death, Avin had become the first female monarch, and her failure reinforced their superstitions. It was easier for them to believe she’d brought the winter, and now they wanted to see her power tamed. She would go through the motions, for the sake of peace, for the sake of Xander.
He sent a gown for her, and even her new maid seemed surprised.
“This is hardly a frock fit for a slave,” Sal mumbled.
Avin bit her tongue. Although a servant, the Ravenscroft-born Sal seemed to disapprove of the gown as an indulgence for a prisoner of the crown. But Xander had told Avin that this woman was dutiful, and the griping was short-lived. When Avin was dressed, the image staring back at her was the image of royalty save for the placement of the crown around her neck.
Xander was large, and he knew she’d not been with a man since they’d parted. A voice told him to go slowly, but he did not heed it and she cried out anew at the force of his entry. She was so hot, so tight. She cried out a second time and wrapped her long white legs around him. She clawed his back through his tunic.
Xander thrust into her, consumed now by a furious need to possess her completely.
“You’re mine,” he said, his voice deep and desperate. “You belong to the king and he will never, ever let you go. Do you understand?”
She was looking into his eyes, could see his need. And the woman who had been sobbing only moment earlier now looked wild and wise and knowing. There was power in her surrender; they both knew it.
“Say it!” he said, fucking her so hard he had to take hold to keep her from slamming into the headboard. “Say it!”
“I’m yours! I am the property of the king!” She came as she said it, the slick, hot walls of her pussy drawing on his cock, coaxing the seed in explosive bursts. She hugged him to her with arms and legs, holding him there until he’d spent completely.
Chapter Nine
The following morning dawned with a golden glow of sun shining through the window of Avin’s room. As she stirred, the sweet tenderness between her legs reminded her of the training that had ended with Xander’s learning the truth about the betrayal that had separated them, and her learning that he had never really stopped loving her.
But with that realization came a new pain—one neither of them had spoken of. She was a deposed and despised queen of a land he now ruled. They could never be together, not even if their love had been rekindled.
True to his word, Xander sent a new maid—a motherly matron called Sal—to be housed in the small but comfortable chamber next to Avin’s. There were also gifts to help the former queen pass her time—books, embroidery fabric and thread, a lute, and bowls of fruits and cakes.
But despite the improvements to her confinement, Avin found it hard to relax. Before he’d left her chamber, Xander had told Avin that the barons of Windbourne would be attending a feast that evening ahead of the coronation. They expected to see the queen leashed and at his feet, but Xander told Avin that while she would attend collared, she would be seated at his side.
This sparked mixed feelings for Avin. She knew why it had to be done. The coronation was approaching. Her show of humility would satisfy a people reliant on symbolism. Her time in the tower had helped her work through some of her anger, to reflect. The people of Windbourne were simple adherents to a simple religion, and a simple way of life. She’d come to an untimely rule after generations of kings. Although Windbourne had no laws of primogeniture forbidding women from ascending to the throne, no one in living Windbourne history could remember a female doing so. With her father’s death, Avin had become the first female monarch, and her failure reinforced their superstitions. It was easier for them to believe she’d brought the winter, and now they wanted to see her power tamed. She would go through the motions, for the sake of peace, for the sake of Xander.
He sent a gown for her, and even her new maid seemed surprised.
“This is hardly a frock fit for a slave,” Sal mumbled.
Avin bit her tongue. Although a servant, the Ravenscroft-born Sal seemed to disapprove of the gown as an indulgence for a prisoner of the crown. But Xander had told Avin that this woman was dutiful, and the griping was short-lived. When Avin was dressed, the image staring back at her was the image of royalty save for the placement of the crown around her neck.
Similar Books
