Page 123 of Prize for the King
I try to smile, but it’s more like a grimace. “Yes. I’m sorry. It was her condition for… Ah, doesn’t matter. What does it mean?”
His face grows stony, eyes cold, yet he pulls me roughly into his lap until I straddle his thighs.
“It means, ‘Make me pregnant, you virile stud.’ I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that you do my mother’s bidding now, or that I’m fucking hard even though I knowshegot you to say that. Oh, it’ssick.”
He gives me a speculative look, frowning, and finally exhales in defeat.
“Say it again.”
And so I learn what it’s like to have intercourse on the desk. Magnar sits me on top of the documents, completely careless, and plows between my legs with my dress hiked up around my hips. I’m adjusted to his size now, taking him with only a bit of initial pain, and he makes me come easily. When Raduna brings the food, Magnar tells him immediately what his mother put me up to, and they laugh together. He never stops thrusting between my legs, and turns quite mean when I’m close to coming again.
“It’s very considerate of you to seduce me in my study, pet. Makes my work much more stimulating. Now all these documents will smell like you and sex. I’ll read a grain yield report from Troos and get fucking hard, because it will smell like my wife’s greedy cunt. Dirty, filthy girl, dripping all over important documents of the state.”
He presses down hard on my belly, the way he’s learned works best, and I try to shake my head, but it’s too late. The familiar pressure gathers, making me helpless, my tongue twisting into knots in my mouth. Magnar brings in Raduna with a sharp nod, and the knight supports my back before I collapse, my muscles so rigid, I can’t control them.
It takes a few thrusts, his knob teasing me from within, his hand keeping up the pressure from the outside, mimicking the position of me lying on top. I squirt profusely all over the desk and Magnar’s legs. He laughs a feral laugh and speeds up while Raduna curls a protective arm around me, kissing my forehead.
“Beautiful Caliane. It was exquisite, my queen,” he murmurs into my temple while tears roll down my cheeks.
Not of sadness, but of release. It’s excruciating to come like this, and utterly blissful, too. Magnar finishes with a guttural grunt and pulls me close, my head lolling against his clothed chest. He sits back heavily, petting my hair and murmuring words of reassurance and love, so much different from the mocking remarks that usually make me come the fastest.
“Oh, my gorgeous wife, you painted my desk so nicely. You did beautiful, pet. I loved it. I love you.”
We’re locked together as we usually are after he gives me this kind of orgasm. Raduna brings in the food and feeds me, while Magnar picks up a soaked report and starts reading with a grumble of reluctance. The ink runs in places, but not enough to make it intelligible.
“They should have gotten my letter by now,” he sighs after discarding the document. “How long will it take, pet? What do you think?”
I stretch my neck and get more comfortable, still tightly joined with him, my dress covering the worst of our ignominy.
“The mines are important, because Zanvar was the only domestic source of copper, and the main one of iron. You’ve held it for almost five years now, and I know from my fath… I know the rulers were very dissatisfied with their arrangement, importing those metals from overseas. Not only are they extremely expensive, transport by water is less reliable. They’ll want those mines.”
“You’re saying they will reply immediately.”
I gasp when he throbs within me. “I mean, they’ll probably bicker for a day or two. My fath… Ugh.”
Magnar sighs. “I’ll ask you again when I’m not inside you, hm? I’m sorry.”
I nod into his chest, and we sit in silence until I relax enough for him to slip out. His release gushes out of me, and his trousers are soaked, the chair ruined, yet Magnar eyes the mess with a pleased grin.
“Filthy girl,” he mutters affectionately, pulling me up for a kiss. “Dripping my cum everywhere. I fucking love it.”
“I’ll let you work,” I say when he helps me climb off. I smooth the dress down my hips even as his release paints my inner thighs, slowly trickling down. “Say, when are you meeting with your ministers again?”
He groans and rubs his temple, a sign of a headache. He’s gotten a lot of those lately. “In a few hours. Fuck, I hate those meetings. For every twenty sentences they say, only one is useful.”
I tug him down to kiss his hurting forehead, and he sighs, pulling me into an embrace.
“I want a honeymoon,” he whispers, voice almost breaking. “I want peace, my wife, my brothers, and nothing else. To sleep for days and only wake to fuck you.”
“I know.”
I stroke his hair and he grips me tight, body trembling before he pulls back, clearing his throat. When I look up, his face is hard, no trace of vulnerability left. Oh, he’s strong. The strongest person I know.
But everyone has a breaking point, and I’ll do what I can not to let him reach his.
I bathe and change before going to see Idrina again. She’s nodding off in her armchair, but looks up with bleary eyes when I enter.
“And? What did he do?” she asks, instantly perking up.
