Page 15 of His Queen

“What does that have to do with our current situation?”

“You’ve been doing stretches for the last hour, yet your brain can’t see through Jean-Luc’s neon green spandex.”

“Yet, I have the mental capacity to see that you’re acting like a child.”

“At least my balls ain’t hanging out of my pants like Jean-fucking-Luc’s.”

“Grow up. Not everyone wants to fuck me, Nicoli,” I say, turning my back to him and grabbing my towel, wiping my face. “And even if half this country’s men wanted to have sex with me, I can promise you Jean-Luc isn’t one of them.”

“Of course he is.”

“He’s gay, Nicoli. There’s a better chance he’ll get a hard-on while touching you rather than me.”

He stares at me, deadpan. “I really don’t care what his sexual orientation is or what he chooses to shove his cock into, he has no right touching you when you’re half-naked, all sweaty, and exhaling.”

I cross my arms. “So, I’m not allowed to breathe, then?”

“No. You’re allowed to breathe. Jean-Luc, on the other hand, is not.”

My attention is suddenly drawn to the hard-on tenting his pants. I purse my lips and frown at him. “You’re turned on by us fighting.”

“Extremely.”

“You actually want to have sex right now?”

“Very much.” He takes a step closer to me, his eyes bright with anticipation.

I’m shaking my head at him, but there’s a small smile tugging on the corner of my lips.

“Whether we’re fighting or not, I’m always in the mood to fuck you, Hummingbird.”

My heart starts hammering in my chest, and I’m suddenly nervous and excited all at the same time. I can feel his warm breath on my face as he moves even closer. His lips hover just inches away from mine.

“I’m not going to apologize for wanting to kill a man who touched you. I’m not going to pretend I’m not a wild fucking animal when it comes to my wife. You are mine, and I won’t think twice about slitting a thousand throats to keep it that way.”

“There’s no need to slit throats, Nicoli. I’ll always be yours,” I say.

“Yes, well…I don’t like to leave anything to chance. Take off your clothes.”

I scoff. “What?”

“I’m sorry. Did I stutter? Take off. Your clothes.”

“What makes you think I want to have sex with you right now?”

His lip curls up at the corner, and I imagine it’s the way the devil would smirk when the human race would say we don’t like the rush of sinning. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’m going to slide my finger between your legs, and if you’re not wet, I’ll walk away. But if I find your cunt drenched and ready for me, we’re fucking.”

“And here I thought you’d say something like if I’m not wet for you, you’ll spit on my pussy and fuck me anyway.”

The look in his eyes turns from daring to primal, and I gasp as he grabs my arm, twists me around, and pulls my back against his chest. “Well, that settles it, then. Whether you’re wet or not, we’re fucking. But something tells me my wife’s cunt is already making a mess.”

With a gentle sway of my hips, I brush my ass against his hard-on. He groans, and the sound has me parting my lips and inhaling sharply.

“I have a confession to make,” I start as Nicoli slides his hand painfully slow down my naked abs. “There’s this foolish part of me that—” he slips his hand into my tights, dipping a single finger through my slit “—um…oh, God—” his fingertip eases against my clit, and my legs start to shake.

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