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“I do.”
“Hmm.” He walked closer to me until we were mere inches apart. “Then do you know what I’m going to do right now?”
I held my breath. “What?”
He leaned down and whispered, “I’m going to sit you on that nice little throne over there and eat your pretty cunt out until you beg me to stop.”
I gasped out a laugh as he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder with the ease of someone picking up a rag doll. “You can’t! No one sits on the throne except the monarch.”
Rhys set me down on the gold and velvet chair.
“It’s going to be yours one day. Might as well get used to it,” he said. “How does it feel?”
“I…” I looked around. The room seemed different from this vantage point. Bigger, more intimidating. “Strange. And scary. But…not as scary as I thought.”
In my mind, the throne was so large I’d never grow into it, but now that I was actually sitting in it? It seemed manageable.
“Because you’re ready for it.” Rhys said it like it wasn’t even a question. “You’re a fucking queen, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Including yourself.”
My mouth tipped up while my heart melted into a puddle. “If you ever give up on the bodyguard gig, you could make a killing as a motivational speaker.”
He chuckled. “Not motivation, just the truth. The throne suits you. Now…” He knelt before me and spread my thighs. “How can I serve you, Your Highness?”
Heat consumed my body as he pulled my underwear down.
“Rhys,” I hissed, my pulse racing with a mix of lust and anxiety. “Someone will catch us.”
The odds were slim, but they weren’t zero.
His wolfish smile caused my toes to curl. “Then we better make it worth it. Hmm, princess?”
I didn’t get a chance to respond before he draped my legs over his shoulders, dipped his head between my thighs, and all my protests crumbled into ash.
Rhys devoured me with the hunger of a man lost in the desert, sucking on my clit and thrusting his tongue inside me until my vision went hazy. I writhed and whimpered, sliding halfway off the throne until my legs on his shoulders and his crushing grip on my hips were the only things keeping me from collapsing.
Too much. Not enough. Everywhere. More.
I couldn’t think straight.
My moans echoed in the room, bouncing off the tapestries and portraits of previous kings and queens, all of whom glared at me disapprovingly while my bodyguard tongue fucked me into oblivion on the throne.
He sucked hard on my clit, and I yelped at the overload of sensation. I tried to pull away, but Rhys’s hands clamped around my thighs like iron bands, forcing me to hold still until my body convulsed and came apart.
Before I could gather myself back together, he was up and inside me, his big body shielding me from sight should anyone walk in and his cock driving into me forcefully enough to send the chair inching back with each thrust.
So wrong. This was so wrong, but I couldn’t bring myself to care as Rhys grabbed my ankles and placed my legs on his shoulders again, bending me nearly in half.
“Now this is how a queen should be treated,” he said, his eyes dark and ravenous as they dropped from my face to where his cock pumped in and out of me. “Don’t you agree?”
“Mmph ungh.” I moaned something unintelligible, unable to speak. To think.
I was pure sensation, fire inside and out, and the last coherent thought I had before another volcano erupted and melted me into nothing was, sometimes, it’s good to be queen.