Page 4 of Bred By The King

The lawyers go on and on as I read every clause for myself. The key parts are straightforward: marriage, public union, and an heir expected within a reasonable time to bind our bloodlines. Fuck me…

“The heir clause is non-negotiable,” Tariq insists, looking between Layla and me.

Layla sign the contract with a grip so tight that her knuckles show. And I imagine her hands on my cock…

* * *

After that, there’s a formal dinner. I’m seated next to Layla, and I bring my chair so close to hers that every shift of my body brushes against hers. She smells of something lush and exquisite that makes me want to bury my face between her thighs…

And because I can’t stand the silence between us, the emptiness in my mind that’s filled with nothing but thoughts of her. How she looks, smells, the heat coming from her body… I can’t help but poke at her. “You always this quiet?”

She turns a thunderous look my way and shoots back, “You always this annoying?”

I bark out a laugh. “I’m an acquired taste.”

“Must be why your ancestors thought they could keep coming back.”

“Well, yours never learned to let shit go.”

We glare at each other. I want to grab her, pull her on my lap, see how her curvy body would fit against my hard one. But instead, I grab my drink and keep my face blank.

The rest of the dinner is pure torture.

* * *

When I return to my suite, I strip and stand on the balcony. The warm air moves over my skin but does nothing to calm the heat inside me. My mind won’t leave her alone. Her lush thighs, wide hips, thick, round ass, the way her full tits pressed against the fabric of her dress.

I’m hard as fuck.

I wrap a hand around my fat cock and stroke.

Slow.

I picture Layla on her knees, looking up at me with that defiant stare in her beautiful eyes while I feed her every inch of me. Her full lips stretching wide. Tears running down her cheeks. Fucking choking on me.

I stroke faster.

Now I’m bending her over the meeting table, with her dress yanked up, shoving inside her tight cunt in one thrust. I watch her belly bulge every time I bottom out. Grip her hips and pound into her tight, wet heat until she’s fucking creaming all over my cock.

“Take it, princess,” I mutter, jerking myself harder. “Gonna fill this pussy every day until it fucking catches. Put my fucking baby in you. Watch your belly swell with my heir while you walk around knowing exactly who fucking owns you.”

The thought of her pregnant, her tits heavier, her belly round, hips wider, carrying my goddamn kid, sends me over. I come hard, thick ropes of cum spilling over my fist on the balcony tiles, jaw locked tight to hold in my grunts.

Four

LAYLA

“Girl. GIRL! He looked at you like he wanted to eat you alive!”

Monique bursts into my rooms the second I’m back from dinner, eyes huge, hands flapping. “I saw it. I was standing by the dessert table, which, by the way, the lemon tarts were mid, very disappointing, and I watched him stare at your ass the entire walk to the dining hall. He didn’t blink. Not once. Like some horny blond predator.”

“Again, he’s the enemy, Mo.” I groan, burying my face in my hands. “This is a disaster. I’m supposed to hate him.”

“But do you?” she asks softly, brushing hair away from my forehead.

“Yes?” I ask more than I state.

Mo smiles. “But you also want him to bend you over the throne?”