Her hand in mine, I guide us to her clit to play in the wet. Teasing her swollen cunt. Pulling desperate sounds from her as I fuck her. With my hand still covering hers, I add our fingers, stretching her wider. It adds to the friction as I pump my cock against them.
She gasps and stiffens against me. “Dax…”
“Are you my good girl, Rapunzel?”
She nods against my shoulder. “Yes.”
“Good girls take what they’re given.” My cock glides against our fingers, against the heat of her drenched walls. “And they’re grateful for the pleasure.”
“Thank you. Oh, God, Dax, thank you for fucking me with your cock and our fingers.”
My arm tightens around her as I rock into her again and again and again. Rasping filthy words into her ear that pull incoherent whispers from her. And when she reaches behind her head to grasp my hair, she’s so goddamn pretty when she comes.
“That’s it, Rapunzel.” I fuck her hard and deep, using our fingers to press against my cock. “Come all over me. All over us.”
Because I intend to come all over her.
Fair play, after all.
The next punch of my hips builds pressure from my spine to the head of my cock. I pull out of her and shove her forward. She lands on her hands. I toss her hair aside with one hand and jerk my cock with the other, shooting thick ropes of cum on her perfect ass.
“Fuck. Christ. Oh, Lord. Fuck,” I hiss between clenched teeth.
Once the last shudder leaves me, Rapunzel attempts to crawl off the bed. I stop her. My cock wet with her pleasure, and swinging heavy between my legs, I grab a rag from the washstand. Dip it in the bowl of tepid water. Carry it back to the bed and, because I’m such a fucking gentleman, wipe my cum off her flawless skin—well, flawless save for the large handprint bruise on her ass that I suspect belongs to Quinn. Then I clean my cock before tossing the cloth on the floor. I’ll pick it up later. Right at this moment, I have something better to do with my time. Like cuddling with my lovely lady.
I hold out my arms to her. Rapunzel’s contentment is positively beguiling as she settles into my embrace. I love the floral soap she uses. The heady scent clings to her thick, golden hair. Hair that contains a power that can change the world.
How does someone this tiny, this delicate, possess something so powerful?
Rapunzel drapes an arm around my chest, hugging me. “I can’t believe there was a time when I hated rainy days.”
“In your defense, you were alone in a tower.” I kiss the side of her head. “But you’re not alone anymore.”
“No, I’m not.” There’s a thick quiet between us before her soft confession cuts me to the quick. “I’m scared.”
I shift so I can see her face, and there it is. Raw fear reflected in her luminous eyes. “Of what, Little Captive?”
But I know the answer.
“Failure. But also of what will happen once I make it to court. Right now, he’s this abstract being. Someone more obscure than real. You’ve all met him. Stood in his presence. Looked him in the eye. But I’m afraid of him, Dax. Oh, God, I’m terrified of him.” She lifts her head and pierces me with a pleading gaze. “Please don’t tell Wren or Quinn. I don’t think they will understand that even though I’m afraid I’m still prepared to do whatever is necessary to take this kingdom from him.”
To murder her father.
I cup her chin. “We won’t fail, Rapunzel. Do you understand me? We’re going to murder that bastard, put you on the throne, and fix the goddamn mess he made of Rygard. And you don’t have to be afraid of him. As you said, I stood in his presence. John may be king, but he is also just a man. You made Quinn bleed. Remember that anytime you find yourself afraid.”
Her chin quivers, and her eyes sparkle with the threat of tears, but she nods, fighting for conviction. “What if I’m not a good queen?”
I smooth a hand over her hair, my smile tender and hopefully, reassuring. “Rapunzel, sweetling, if ever a woman was born to be a worthy queen, it was you.”
She sacrificed her freedom because she believed she was a danger to Rygard. Every Rygardian owes her their life. We can never give her back those lost twenty-four years, but we can damn well give her our gratitude—and that starts with the three of us doing everything within our power to make sure she gets that crown.
“I pray you’re right.”
I twirl a lock of her hair around my finger. “I’m always right, Little Captive.”
The tension leaves her body, and this time, silence falls between us when she places her head on my chest. It’s a comfortable one. Eventually, though, she breaks it. “Do you hear that?”
Listening, I frown. “Not a thing.”
