Page 11 of Coronation (Royally Forbidden #1)

Six

Zelda

I t’s surprisingly easy to find an empty bedroom.

I guess privacy wouldn’t be high on many guests’ priority lists, judging by what we just did, and the number of people who were fucking in the lounge when we reentered the house.

King Benedict—it’s officially getting weird that I call him that—kept an arm wrapped possessively around my waist as we made our way through the dimly lit room, my skin prickling with heat as I saw more than one couple, or throuple, touching each other right out in the open.

Davina and the CEO she was flirting with are nowhere to be found.

The exhibitionism was definitely an unexpected turn, and one I wouldn’t have expected to enjoy quite as much as I did, but it’s a relief when we climb the magnificent staircase in the entryway, passing the crystal chandelier as we do, and emerge in a secluded corridor, lined with glossy wood doors.

The very first one we try turns out to be empty and tastefully prepared for tonight’s proceedings .

The king—I really can’t decide if it would be weirder to call him by his name or not—moves ahead of me into the room, and I feel a hook tug below my belly button as I hover just inside, taking in the scene before me.

More candles are arranged on every flat surface, and a massive four-poster bed stands against the far wall, its mattress draped in deep-blue satin.

On the bedside table is a silver tray, equipped with an array of lube, condoms, and sex toys, all new in their packages.

A hysterical little giggle bubbles from my lips, and King Benedict turns to look at me, an amused glint in his eyes.

“I just ate your cunt in view of several world leaders, an oil baron, and a Nobel Prize laureate, and this room is making you blush?” he teases, stepping back to me and banding our bodies together.

“You are a very pleasant conundrum, Miss Flowers.”

Responding is quickly deemed off the table when the tall, dark-haired man lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me as if I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted.

The king lets out a low hiss as I catch his lower lip between my teeth, exerting just enough pressure to hurt.

“I want to make you feel good,” I murmur when I release my bite, and the room is filled with the sound of a low, masculine groan as my hand slips between us to palm his cock.

Even through his trousers, it’s clear that this man is considerably more sizable than my few and mediocre former lovers, and my inner walls clench at the thought of how he will feel inside me.

Laid out before him outside, as a few couples wandered past, shamelessly watching the leader of this country eat the pussy of a far-too-young-for-him American actress… It was the most erotic moment of my life, and I suspect the ones coming will eclipse it.

My gaze doesn’t break from his as I sink to my knees, lifting my hands to his belt. “May I suck your cock, Your Highness?”

The king curses under his breath, and his chest heaves as he watches me lower the zip of his pants and undo the button.

Making sure he’s watching, I lean forward, pressing soft kisses to the formidable length straining against his briefs.

Everything about this, from our age difference to the setting for our encounter, is turning me on to an indecent degree.

My panties must have been left out on the patio, because my pussy is bare, and my arousal is spreading to my inner thighs.

“May I, sir?” I repeat, squirming in an unsuccessful effort to relieve some of my discomfort.

A brief nod greets my words, and I’m all but panting as I pull the waistband of his briefs down, allowing his engorged length to fall into the space just before my mouth.

My estimations of his size were correct.

When I drag my tongue over his precum-soaked tip, gazing up from beneath my eyelashes, I’m rewarded with the sight of him reaching desperately for a bed poster, the muscles in his jaw strained.

“I’m going to keep you on your back all fucking night.

” There’s something about the combination of his posh accent and the dark promise of his words that makes heat surge up my spine to expand through my chest.

In response, I wrap my lips around the head of his cock.

He tastes good, salty and clean, and I lap up his precum with a fervency bordering on desperation.

Never have I so desperately wanted to please a man, nor has the act of giving a blow job turned me on to such a degree that my pussy literally aches to have him fill me.

Large hands cradle my skull, guiding my pace as I take more of him, bobbing my head up and down his formidable length while my arousal mounts to unprecedented heights. Everything about this is a fantasy come to life, and I never want it to end.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” grunts the king as he thrusts into my mouth, unapologetic in taking his pleasure. I can tell he’s close. Precum is flowing freely over my tongue, and the hold he has on my hair has grown painful.

I’m his toy, his dirty little secret, and he’s using me just as he should.

Without warning, I’m pulled back, and I blink dazedly up at the man towering above me, who bears little resemblance to the polished, confident king I met downstairs only an hour or so ago.

Something dark and animalistic has risen in him, and I’m practically panting at the prospect of being taken by the man I’ve inadvertently unleashed.

“Stand.”

The single, rough word is an order, and one I don’t hesitate to follow. My thighs feel curiously weak as I get to my feet, my belly fluttering at the naked desire on his face.

All I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears and my own unsteady breathing as the king moves to my side, his hands finding the hidden zip of my dress.

The metallic sound cuts through the unearthly stillness of the room, and in seconds, it’s followed by the brush of satin falling to the floor around my feet.

I’m left in only the tiny lace bra I selected for tonight, and the heels chosen for how they make my calves look.

“Will you let me fuck you?”

A disbelieving little laugh falls from my lips. “Obviously.”

His large hands lift to my bra, pulling the flimsy material away so he can see my breasts. Against my belly, his cock leaps. “Will you let me fuck you hard?”

Biting my lip, I lean in close, ensuring my pebbled nipples brush his chest as I whisper in his ear. “Obviously. I have a question, though.”

“A question?” he grunts in response, his eyes on my breasts.

“Am I supposed to call you Your Royal Highness when you’re fucking me? Because that could definitely be fun, but it’s kind of a mouthful.”

The Royal Highness in question snorts, finally tearing his gaze from my tits to meet my eyes, and the look of fond amusement on his face makes my heart flutter. “I think Benedict will do for our purposes.”

Still a mouthful, but I can live with it. Before I can respond, though, or have even registered what’s happening, his hands are on my waist, turning me. A gasp tears from my lungs as I find myself bent over the bed.

“Look at you,” comes the rough voice behind me, and I whimper, inching my thighs apart, desperate for his hands on me again.

He’s definitely much bigger than any other man I’ve been with, and it’s a testament to how unbearably worked up I am that even that doesn’t worry me.

I want it. Behind me, there’s the crinkle of a wrapper, and I press my forehead to the mattress, my fingers fisting on the sheets at my sides as I lie there, waiting for him. Aching for him.

There isn’t a warning. I know he’s standing there, can feel the weight of his gaze on my naked body, but Benedict gives no indication of what’s to come.

I squeal in surprise as he enters me in one long, savage thrust. One moment, I’m empty and spread out on the bed, almost panting in anticipation. The next, my body has been invaded, stretched beyond anything I’ve experienced before as he bottoms out inside me.

“How’s that?” Benedict murmurs, bracing a hand on the bed beside me so he can lower his body over mine, kissing the back of my shoulder as he eases in and out a few times. “I’ve never felt anything like you, darling. The way you grip me… Fuck .”

“It’s so good,” I pant, hitching one leg higher on the mattress, and we both groan as the movement allows him to slide deeper, the broad head of his cock pressing ruthlessly against the very deepest part of me .

I feel his forehead fall to my shoulder, his breathing uneven, and experience a thrill of triumph at having this effect on him.

He’s waiting for me, I realize, holding back until I’ve adjusted.

I don’t want to, though. I want him now, want him to give me everything without apology, to use me to satisfy the rougher version of him I unleashed.

“Use me,” I beg, my voice a strained plea. “Please, Benedict. Fuck me hard. I need it.”

That’s all he needs. With a groan, he reaches up to fist my hair, hard enough to make me cry out. He pulls back until only his tip is resting inside my opening, before driving back into me with all his might.

The bed creaks beneath us as he sets a brutal pace, filling the room with the sound of my cries and the wet slap of skin on skin. No one has ever been this rough with me, or so unapologetic in their use of my body, and it’s such a turn-on I can barely stand it.

With barely any warning, I come with a sob, shaking as Benedict fucks me through it, his harsh, masculine sounds of enjoyment turning me on almost as much as what he’s doing to me.

“This is just to take the edge off,” he hisses, abandoning his grip on my hair so he can shove a hand under my body, kneading and teasing my breast. “How dare you drive me so out of my fucking mind I can’t slow down enough to enjoy this? ”