Page 46 of Gotta Have Mistletoe
“You wanna finish giving me the royal tour, Your Majesty?”
“Wouldn’t be a good host if I didn’t.”
And that’s how I find myself in his royal chambers. He flicks on the lights, and it’s more marvelous than anything I’ve seen.The crown molding is gilded, the walls a pretty sky blue, and paintings of pretty landscapes dazzle from golden frames. Large bay windows overlook sparkling Solberg.
“Wow.” I crane my head up. “There are people painted on the ceiling.”
“I know it’s ostentatious. I had a different bedroom with Sissel. After her death...” He shakes his head. “I didn’t want to miss her all the time.”
“Well, when your home has forty bedrooms, may as well switch them up.”
My gaze bounces around the room. Maybe when we were in the greenhouse, I could forget for a moment who he was.
I can’t forget now.
Regular people just don’t have two-story bedrooms covered in gold and prettiness.
“I’ve never...” He chews on his lower lip.
“I know,” I say quickly. “Ain’t some sexual expert or anything either. I met Dean young.”
Erik has a sort of queasy look on his face.
“I’m sorry,” I say hastily. “I shouldn’t have brought him up.”
“I brought up Sissel first.”
I nod. I don’t like it when he gets all apologetic. We all say things not quite perfect from time to time. I never expected to find someone after Dean. Dean and I, we got on real great. But I ain’t going to keep myself from the king. I know he loved his Sissel awfully much, and maybe it helps that I’m so different from her. It helps that he’s different from Dean.
I pull him toward me, until his body is pressed up against mine, and then we’re kissing.
I might not be some sexual expert, but I know good kisses from bad kisses. I’ve had them both.
My kisses with Erik definitely belong in the good category, and I don’t want to ever let them stop. I hoist Erik into my arms,and he wraps his legs around my waist, gripping me tightly to him. I carry him to the bed, then set him down in the center, and climb on top of him.
We kiss and kiss and kiss.
Our tongues seem to know what to do with each other and don’t care that we’re from different countries, different backgrounds.
“I want to feel your skin,” I tell him.
He blinks at me, starry-eyed. “In that case, it might behoove us to do some undressing.”
I untie his robe, then unbutton his pajama top. Blond hair curls on his chest in an interesting manner, and I run my hands over them. His peaks are hard and firm and pink, and I run my fingers around them, so they pebble further beneath my touch, tightening beneath my fingers. The king moans beneath me, rutting and whining.
“I’m gonna make it good for you,” I promise.
He gives me that adorable glazed look, and I smile.
My cock’s mighty uncomfortable in my pants, and I tear off my t-shirt, then tear off my sweatpants.
Erik’s eyes round, and I reckon he’s caught sight of my package. I straddle him. “Want to touch it?”
He nods frantically, and I rub my hand through his soft locks.
He runs his fingers over my boxers. I ain’t small there and reckon he noticed.
“You’re large,” he says, and his cheeks are flushed. I wonder if he’s embarrassed about his own offerings. He don’t have to be. I run my fingers over his fancy soft briefs, then I roll his briefs down. His cock juts out, hard and throbbing, and spilling with pre-cum.
