Page 21 of Bred By The King

I came with tears streaming down my face, my pussy clenching around him. He followed, flooding me, his forehead pressed to mine.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you for this. For our baby. For loving me.”

“Thank you for loving me back,” I whispered.

Now, at breakfast, he won’t let me lift a finger. He feeds me himself, bites of egg, sips of juice. His hand is constantly on my stomach, my back, my thigh. The advisors watch, uncomfortable. I don’t care.

“Your Majesty,” one says, clearing his throat. “The trade delegation…”

“Can wait,” Soren says, not looking away from me. “I’m having breakfast with my wife.”

“But the treaty…”

“Can. Wait.”

He turns back to me, his expression softening. “More juice?”

“I can pour my own juice, Soren.”

“I know.” He pours it anyway. “But I want to. Let me take care of you, Layla. Please.”

How can I say no to that?

So I let him feed me. I let him touch me. I let him love me.

And when breakfast is over and the advisors have fled, he lifts me on the table and fucks me slow and deep while the morning sun streams through the windows.

“Gonna take care of you every day,” he promises, his hand on my belly. “Gonna love you both so fucking hard.”

“You already do,” I gasp, clenching around him.

“Not enough.” He pounds deeper. “Never enough.”

He comes with a groan, flooding me. I follow, my pussy milking him.

After, he carries me to our chambers, tucks me into bed, and curls around me.

“Sleep, wife,” he murmurs. “I got you.”

I do sleep. Safe. Warm. Loved.

Pregnant with his child. Carrying the future of two kingdoms. And happier than I’ve ever been.

Eighteen

LAYLA

A letter arrives from MeliTar. I read it at breakfast, and I know something is wrong because I go very still. Then I start crying. The ugly, shoulder-shaking kind.

Soren takes the letter from my trembling hands. My dad’s handwriting. He’s proud of me. The peace is holding. Trade routes have reopened. Border villages are thriving.

And he misses me. Every day.

Soren sets the letter down and pulls me into his lap. I’m sobbing into his neck.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“I miss him,” I choke out. “I miss the sun. I miss the sea. I miss my home, Soren.”