Hmm, I suppose I can fit in one more session. I tip my head back, resting it on his shoulder.
“Ours?” I challenge.That shut you up fast, Galen. Is a crowned woman too frightening?I wiggle my ass against him, testing him. “Scared?”
Cold air replaces the space where his hands were; my next breath is half as large as his fingers grip my neck. Is that meant to scare me?
He twists my neck like a doll, turning it so he can kiss me.
I go limp as I’m trapped between his hard muscles and flesh, not a bad place to be when I’m in the mood for it. His tongue is hot and angry, king-like, as it slips into my mouth, seizing my lips and then fighting my angry tongue back.
This kiss is a battle of willpower.
What will I do? I’ll let him win; he can take over control now, but little does he know I won because I allowed him.
This is about survival. I will not be a mindless queen who eats cake, sits on a throne, zones out as she drinks her troubles away, and spreads her legs for her king to plant his seed, only to watch him leave to bed another.
If we want change, who do we expect will grant it to us? The men certainly won’t. No one hands over power; it’s too addictive.
Unlike the men surrounding this castle, I don’t want more power. I just want one thing.
One tiny, insignificant life.
I want revenge, but not against an entire kingdom.
See? I can be agreeable.
I just want one life. One heart that doesn’t deserve to produce another breath.
Not Galen. Not a king’s head, nor a nobleman’s neck. One tiny soldier is all I ask.
I need to wrap Galen around my finger.Then I’ll ask him.
“You are the Queen of Blackthorn.” His left hand slides down my stomach, teasing my hip bone before he inches it lower. “You can rule with me in front of my kingdom.”
Your kingdom? Galen, hubby, you might want to revisit your understanding of possessive pronouns.
“But in this room,”—he pushes three fingers inside of me as he kisses and sucks my neck—“I rule; you will bend and bow down to me.”
“What if I don’t?” I start to move my hips, craving friction.
You see why I hate this man? He uses sex as a tool to torment me, but I learn fast. I can do the same to him.
Iron sharpens iron, right?
I’m giving Galen a taste of his own medicine. Using my body as a weapon.
“Then I’ll keep giving you lessons until you learn.”
We gave each other lessons all week long.
Ask, and you shall receive.
Not.
Warm rays of sunlight blanket my skin. I roll my shoulders back and sigh. I tip my chin up, almost tempted to open my eyes and look into the sun.
“Don’t let him win.” My whisper is a chisel carving my wrath into my heart.
My eyes snap open. My nostrils flare. A faint scent of spice drifts in the air. The cool stone presses into my skin as I lean against the balcony.
