Page 28 of The Royal Curse

My impression of how it went getting fucked in the ass had been formed mostly on the several illustrated works I’d found in the palace library tucked behind a very weighty, and dust-coated, treatise on political theory. In those, all by the same author, bending over and then immediate insertion had been typical. It didn’t take long, anyway, either before or after penetration.

Andreas clearly hadn’t read those books.

He kissed me breathless, kissed me lightheaded, kissed me until I didn’t know which direction was up, until the occasional searing brush of his cock against mine had me crying out in something more like agony than when I’d been in real pain earlier.

And then he lowered himself down and thrust, cock sliding against mine, his hard muscles rubbing all over me and pushing me into the mattress, overwhelming the few senses I still had functioning. The warm spice and musk of him surrounded me, his lips ravaged mine, his tongue fucked my mouth. He thrust again, this time catching the ridge of my glans with his own cock.

My body tensed like a bowstring and everything went all swirly. Hot wetness spread between us, drenching my cock and his, as I spent like a lad.

That high, desperate cry that echoed off the ceiling had come from me, apparently.

I subsided, limp and damp and shaking, the whole world tilting gently sideways at an angle.

Andreas’s groaned curses barely registered, or the loss of his heat on the front of my body—the cool air against my sweaty skin felt incredible, even though I wanted him back.

But my eyes popped open again when his fingers, slick with oil, pressed between my cheeks and stroked over my hole. Andreas had his head bent down to peer between my legs, making me reflexively try to pull them closed.

He wrapped his other hand around the back of my knee and shoved it up almost to my face—which went blisteringly hot.

“You can’t possibly want to look at—”

“Oh, believe me, I want to do a lot more than look,” Andreas said, glancing up at me with such a glow in his eyes that I couldn’t possibly doubt it. “Like this.”

Two fingers pushed inside, crooking to tease me, making it impossible to ignore the fact that he could feel me too, just like I could feel him. The inside of me, at his mercy and available for his appreciation—or not.

“Andreas, please—” His fingernail gently scored the most sensitive part of my flesh, not enough to hurt, but more than enough to have me falling back on the pillows with sweat beading my hairline and my hands clenched in the quilt.

“That’s right,” he said, and if he sounded almost unpardonably smug, he also sounded almost as breathless as I felt, so I could forgive him for it. “I’ll make you come a third time, Your Highness. At my leisure.”

I gazed up at the ceiling unseeingly, breath hitching with every motion of his fingers. Everything in the world had narrowed down to their thick pressure, the way they were stretching me to fit.

“That sounds mildly treasonous,” I gasped.

Andreas laughed and twisted his fingers, and I cried out. “Well worth being hanged for.”

“I can’t believe that. No one would—” The words had slipped out without my permission, and I bit my lip to stop their flow, hard enough that I tasted iron.

Andreas moved too quickly up the bed for me to follow, thrusting his hand at the same time. I blinked and twitched, and when I opened my eyes again his frowning face filled my view. He’d leaned down over me, eyes almost too close for me to meet his gaze.

“I told you I’d show you how wrong you are,” he said, and pushed deeper, knuckles stretching me, and I choked and squirmed and felt my cock stirring again, my third erection in the last two hours and in the last five years, take your pick. “I don’t give a fuck who—look at me, Your Highness,” and he clamped the fingers of his other hand around my jaw and pinned me in place. His eyes blazed. I couldn’t have moved a single muscle of my body if my life depended on it. The tip of his hard cock was against my stomach again, and I could feel it burning all the way through me. “Whoever didn’t want to fuck you the way you deserve, forget him. You’re in bed with me. Only me. And you have no idea what I want to do to your incredibly beautiful ass. All of it treasonous. Understand?”

With the heat and strength of his body all around me and half his hand buried inside me, I didn’t have a lot of choice, did I?

But…he had half his hand buried inside me, and I couldn’t get past that.

“You can’t possibly tell me you’re enjoying that,” I whispered, a little slurred because of his grip on me. “You don’t have to.”

Those incredible eyes softened, and a little smile teased the corners of his mouth. My breath caught. No one, but no one had ever looked at me like that before.

“Enjoying it,” he repeated, and bent down even more, brushing his lips over mine. I opened for him, my skin tingling and my eyes sliding shut, but he didn’t really kiss me, the fucking tease. Instead he kissed my cheek, the hinge of my jaw, still holding me in place. “Mmm.” He wiggled his fingers, the most bizarre sensation that still managed to make my balls tighten almost painfully, the pit of my stomach twisting. Hot lips touched the side of my neck. “You’re very soft inside. And wet from my come.” He thrust his fingers in, and the squelching sound managed to be even more obscene than his words.

“You have a texture,” he went on, murmuring into my collarbone and punctuating himself with another kiss. “It isn’t quite like skin on the outside. I want to feel it with whatever I can fit in you.”

Oh, gods, every bit of that skin on the outside had gone painfully hot, and when I moaned and tightened convulsively around him, he only laughed and licked my nipple and thrust his fingers deeper.

Whatever he could fit in me…his cock might or might not qualify. Andreas pulled back, and added a third finger, and he pushed and turned, and he could feel my texture, inside…

The thudding and rushing of my own blood echoed in my ears, the world was nothing but glimpses of a shadowy ceiling through tear-glazed eyes, and everything came to me in bits and pieces: his voice, telling me to be still and he’d give me everything in a moment, and the pressure of his hips against my thighs, the tease of his cock behind my balls, slippery and thick.

---