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When I turn, Verity is staring straight at my cock. Her throat bobs with a swallow. “I don’t—”

“—want to fuck? I know.” Possibly this is belied by the way I stroke myself to hardness as I walk to the bed, wondering what I’m going to find under that blanket. Is she in that sweet little nightgown? Or has she undressed for me?

The sheets are cool on my side as I slip in, and I let that knowledge penetrate.Myside ofourbed. Only that doesn’t seem right, so I immediately discard it, clearing the distance between us.

I’m only mildly disappointed when I reach for her, feeling the sheer fabric of her nightie. “Turn,” I say, catching her tired eyes before I roll her to her side, spooning up behind her. I heard the chatter around campus today about the Princess being frozen out—just like her Princes—not that I needed it. I saw her on my phone during Lit 311, disappearing into the bathroom stall she always likes to hide in for a good 15-minute crying jag. That’s what makes my Rosilocks the perfect Princess. She’s so good at hiding her misery. Her eyes weren’t even red and puffy when she emerged from the stall.

Now, I lift a hand to brush a finger against the apple of her cheek, tracing the path a tear might have taken this afternoon.

“I’m going to put my cock into you again,” I say, watching as her pale fist curls around the sheet. I rest mine over it, appreciating the contrast in colors. “I’ll probably fill you up with more of my cum, too.” I begin lifting her gown, my knuckles skating up her soft, silky thighs. “I can’t sleep in your bed and not be inside you. You understand that by now, don’t you?” Her troubled eyes remain fixed on the wall across the room, shoulders twitching when I finger the elastic of her panties, pulling them down over the round curve of her ass. Just as I nudge the tip of my cock against her warm hole, I assure her, “But I won’t fuck you, Rosi. Not until you need it enough to ask for it. That’s your call.”

I enter her with force, curling an arm around her when she hisses, holding her tight. Making her take me. All of me.

Only when she settles, releasing a deep, unsteady breath, do I release her to rest my palm against her stomach. The baby should be enough. Rationally, I know that. But I can’t shake this urge to be inside her all the time, feel her body grip me, feel her so close that our bones start to merge.

As I’m drifting off to sleep, I decide that, in the morning, when she’s dripping with me, I’ll plug her up to keep us together all the time.

* * *

There’ssilence all around the room.

Every now and then, a PNZ member’s eyes will flick to the throne at the head of the room. This parlor is an integral part of East End. It’s played host to almost a hundred thronings. Dozens of Royal births. Plenty of Royal Cleansings. Probably a few orgies, too. The last Princess was relieved of her duties in this room.

I doubt there’s ever been as much tension in here as there is now.

Lex clears his throat, shifting his notebook a couple of inches to the left. It’s not often our brother fidgets. “I understand there’s been a bit of an upset in the ranks lately.”

Loeffler gapes at him. “Abitof anupset?”

“Your Princess showed the video of the cleansing to our girlfriends,” Julian Carter says. He’s a quiet sophomore who’s never made any waves, and right now, he looks sick, eyes red and irritated.

From his chair in the front, Tommy Wright crosses his arms, chin raised. “A cleansing we were forced to participate in.”

Baxter actually stands up, all the playful mirth from his eyes on Tuesday wiped away. “Every single one of us got dumped because of what she did! Aren’t you going to do something?”

Wicker slumps down in his seat, scrubbing both palms over his face. “Jesus Christ.”

“What do you propose?” Lex asks, voice turning sharp and accusing. “Another cleansing? Maybe we should bring her in to sit on the throne for a few lashes.” He takes a long, significant pause. “Oh, wait. We can’t. Because she’s carryingyourfucking heir. So sit the hell down, Baxter.”

“You have to do something!” Loeffler cries, shooting to his feet. “We’re PNZ! We can’t just be single!”

It’s all I can do not to laugh. If it weren’t for my brothers, I probably would. But Lex looks hunted, and Wicker…

He’s glaring at the floor, looking like he might not be opposed to that throne-lashing idea.

Rory Livingston adds, “Maybe she can tell them it was a trick.”

Baxter perks up, looking over at me. “Yeah, she can tell them it was CGI or something, right? Just a fake. Then we can win them back!”

“Give me a break.” It’s only when all the eyes in the room swing to me that I realize the words are my own, spoken with low, cutting contempt. I don’t regret them. Straightening in my seat at the head of the table, I announce, “Guys. Man the fuck up.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your girls were bitches to her. Did any of them tell you what they did to her?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Livingston mutters. “A little hazing is normal for new—”

“What would you rather have?” Lex asks. “A Princess who’s quiet and meek and afraid? Or a Princess who fights for herself?”