Page 59 of Crown of Thorns
“I am,” I whisper. My body warms to him and my head begins to loll to the side.
“And who is your king?” he demands as he brushes his thick cock against my center, making me whimper.
“You are.”
“Aye, hen, I am,” he says as he notches the plump head of him to me. “And are you going to fuck your king?”
“Yes,” I replied immediately.
“Then do it.”
Instantly I sink down over him, feeling him stretch me wide. He grips my ass cheeks in his hands and holds me open, fucking me from below until I’m panting and begging to come.
“Please.”
“Fuck yourself on my cock,” he says, loosening his grip. “Make yourself come. Take what you need.”
I bounce on his lap, driving myself closer to myclimax, but also enjoying taking my time. I see the tension on his face as I move over him, bringing him with me. I slow down and watch his eyes flash with awareness. Rhys knows that I’m teasing us both.
I let out a moan as I pick up my pace again, racing toward the end. He feels so good, it feels so good to be the one in control.
“That’s it, hen, come all over my cock,” he says as I slide up and down over him. “You’re so fucking tight and wet. I can feel you milking my cock.”
“Yes,” I pant. I drive myself down onto him, over and over. I cry out his name as I drop down against his chest, letting him hold me open to him as he thrusts up into me, driving through my orgasm. It’s all I can do to hold on as I come.
He wraps one arm around my waist, holding me tight. His other hand grips the back of my neck, holding me to him as he chases his own release, drawing mine out as he does.
It feels so good to be wrapped up in each other as our hearts race and our breaths slow, and I think maybe, just maybe, we can get through all of this together.
Chapter 18
The Abbey
The sun is beginning to set around Saint Peter’s Abbey making the two historic towers that flank the front fairly imposing. The towers as well as the front building are part of the original structure that was dedicated in 1205; construction began the same year. It’s the oldest abbey in the country, made of gray stone with dark, stained glass windows, an upgrade from the fur pelt covered lookouts of years gone by.
Moss and ivy scale the stone façade and do nothing to ease the trepidation I feel simply looking at it. I step out of the car that was driven by Leo and accompanied by one of my uncle’s guards and followed by another SUV of guards.
“You’ll be greeted by streets full of citizens of the world and there you’ll wave and smile to the crowdsbefore the doors are opened to welcome you into the abbey.” Craig, Rhys’s personal secretary, runs through what to expect on the day of the wedding. “When the doors open, the music will change to the bridal march. Stella, do not walk down the aisle yet. It’s bad luck. Your Majesty, if you’ll follow me.”
I skirt the far side of the pews with Dahlia at my side.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure your train has nary a crease or wrinkle as you walk down the aisle,” she says with a cheeky wink. She’s enjoying the idea of being my bridesmaid since we’ve become so close.
We watch as Craig shows my uncle the pace he should take down the long aisle, where to pause to acknowledge the box of royalty that will sit higher than anyone else, and then on to the altar where the archbishop will be waiting alongside Rhys and Taylor.
“Here you will give your most gracious curtsey, ma’am,” Craig tells me. “It is customary to slightly bow your heads to each other, your Majesties. Afterward, the archbishop will lead the services.”
“We will go through several passages, as well as a reflection on the importance of union in marriage,” the archbishop says. “Then, I will tell you that you may kiss your bride.”
“My favorite part,” Rhys jokes.
“After, you will walk back down the aisle and out to the royal carriage, which will be waiting to take you back to the castle,” Craig says. It will be slow moving.Smile. A Lot.”
I just nod. There’s so much to take in and I’m terrified that I’ll make a mistake if I don’t pay attention to everything.
“It’ll be all right,” Rhys says, only for me to hear. “I’ll be with you.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
