Page 17 of Bred By The King

“Fine,” I say, trying to sound put-upon. “Lead the way, husband.”

He practically drags me from the yard. Erik watches us go, and I catch the smallest hint of a smile.

Soren pulls me into a storage closet, shelves of linens and candles, and slams the door.

“You were flirting with him,” he growls, yanking my shorts down.

“I was sparring with him.”

“Same thing.” He frees his cock, already hard. “You’re mine, Layla. No one else looks at you. No one else touches you.”

He pushes inside me in one thrust, lifting me against the wall. I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“Possessive bastard,” I moan.

“Damn right.” He fucks me hard, the shelves rattling. “Gonna fuck you until the only name you remember is mine.”

“Soren…”

“Louder.”

“Soren! Fuck, Soren, yes!”

He comes with a roar, flooding me, his teeth sinking into my shoulder. I follow, clenching around him.

After, he holds me against the wall, still inside me.

“I love you,” he whispers. “So fucking much it scares me.”

“I know.” I kiss him softly. “I love you too. Even when you’re a jealous caveman.”

“Especially then.”

He carries me back to our chambers, his cum leaking down my thighs. The servants scatter. I bury my face in his neck and smile.

I’m his. He’s mine.

And Erik respects me now. That’s a win.

Fifteen

SOREN

The palace library is my favorite room. Three stories of books, a fireplace big enough to stand in, windows overlooking the fjord. It’s where I come when I need to think.

Today, I’m not alone.

I look up from the treaty I’m reviewing and there she is. Layla. Standing on the top rung of the rolling ladder, reaching for a book on the highest shelf. She’s wearing one of my shirts, white linen that hangs to her thighs, nothing underneath. Her dark legs are bare, her hair loose and wild. When she stretches, the shirt rides up and I can see the curve of her ass.

My cock is instantly hard.

“Find what you’re looking for?” I ask, voice rough.

She startles, almost losing her balance. I move fast, catching her around the waist and lifting her down. She lands against my chest, her hands on my shoulders.

“Soren! You scared me.”

“You shouldn’t be climbing ladders in my shirt.” I grip her hips, pulling her closer. “You could have fallen.”