Page 13 of Bred By The King

Then he pushes inside me, slow and deep, and makes love to me for the first time.

Not fucking. Not breeding. Making love.

His eyes never leave mine. His hands cradle my face. He moves inside me like I’m precious, like I’m fragile, like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.

“I love you,” he whispers with every thrust. “I love you. I love you.”

I come with his name on my lips, my pussy clenching around him, tears streaming down my face. He follows, groaning my name, flooding me with everything he has.

After, he holds me. He doesn’t let go. He strokes my hair and kisses my temple, and tells me I’m safe. That I’m home. That I’m his.

And for the first time, I believe it.

Eleven

SOREN

The palace is buzzing, but all I can focus on is Layla. Today she becomes my wife in front of both our peoples. The grand hall is transformed; MeliTar flowers mixed with Vinterfjord pine. Warm colors against cold stone. It looks like us.

I stand at the front, shoulders tight, waiting. When the doors open and she walks toward me, my chest does something strange. She’s wearing deep red and gold; the gown hugging her curves like it was poured on. Her dark hair is braided with gold threads. She looks like a queen. My queen.

She stops next to me. I take her hand, my big palm swallowing hers. She squeezes back.

The ceremony is short and blunt. Vows about peace, unity, and bloodlines. I barely hear it. All I can think about is getting her alone.

When the officiant pronounces us married, I pull her in and kiss her hard. Possessive. My hand grips her waist,long, and I claim her mouth in front of everyone. Cheers ripple through the hall. Let them watch.

The reception drags. Too many people. I keep Layla close, my hand on her lower back or her hip. Every time someone looks at her too long I pull her tighter.

“You keep looking at me like that and the entire court will know exactly what you’re thinking,” she whispers.

“Let them know.” I squeeze her hand. “Let them know their king is obsessed with his queen.”

We dance. I pull her close, one hand on her lower back, the other gripping her hip. I grind against her subtly, letting her feel how hard I am.

“Soren,” she gasps. “We’re in public.”

“And you’re wet for me, wife.”

“Always,” she admits.

Finally, hours later, we escape. The doors to our chambers close. I lock them.

I back her against the heavy wooden door and drop to my knees, shoving her gown up. No panties. Good girl. I spread her thick thighs and bury my face in her pussy, licking and sucking like a man starved. She grips my hair and rides my tongue, moaning loud.

I make her come twice before I stand up, cock throbbing. I lift her, carry her to the bed, and drop her on her back. The gown gets yanked down, exposing her heavy breasts. I shove my pants open and climb on top of her.

“Look at me,” I order.

Her dark eyes lock on mine as I push inside her in one deep thrust. She’s soaked. Tight. Perfect.

“Wife,” I growl, fucking her hard. “My wife. This pussy is mine forever now.”

The bed creaks. I pound into her, watching her tits bounce, gripping her hips and driving deeper.

“Gonna breed you tonight, Layla. Gonna fill this married cunt over and over until it takes. I want you pregnant. I want everyone to see your belly growing with my baby.”

She clenches hard and comes with a cry. I don’t stop. I flip her on her hands and knees, smack her ass, and slam back in from behind.