Her King Read online

  “Washed me.”

  “Surely, you jest.”

  “I am sure as a child, I had help, but never as an adult.”

  “I find that hard to believe. No one in the brothels?”

  “I’ve never visited a brothel, Braya.”

  “All men do, even peasants,” she says.

  “Not this man,” he says with conviction.

  “I suppose the brothel comes to you,” I say absentmindedly. He grabs my wrist and pulls me so that I am just a few inches from his face.

  “I thought we went over this.”

  “If you tell me about more handsome kings than you, I will leave you here all alone.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I am saying that there are none more handsome than you. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  “Fair to who?” He asks as I move the soapy cloth over the rest of his body. I do not linger though I want to. I have never even seen a naked man, let alone been this close to one. Touching one would have seemed out of the question ten minutes ago.

  “Anyone. I do not know. I am speaking out of turn.”

  “You can speak freely to me, Braya.”

  “Your Majesty,” I whisper, my lips a breath from his.

  “Christofur,” he says before devouring my lips.

  Before I know it, I am in the tub with him. My clothes are soaked, but I do not care. All I can think about is this moment. Our tongues do some kind of dance I would never have thought of, but I love it. My body loves it too.

  Again, I ask myself, what am I doing? I am ruining myself, and I can not bring myself to care. He is my king, and I am his more than willing subject. Suddenly, he stands with me in his arms and steps out of the tub. Water drips everywhere, but he doesn’t seem to care. He sets me on my feet carefully and reaches behind me, untying my apron and tossing it away.

  “I must admit that I don’t know how to open your dress,” he says, chuckling.

  “Oh, let me,” I say, reaching behind me and deftly opening the tiny buttons down my back. I could have left the room. Gotten away from the man, but I chose to stay. To see what happens. Living in the country, I have some ideas, but now I need first-hand knowledge. My dress loosens, and I am standing before him in a soaking wet shift. Reaching down, I pull it up and over my head. Suddenly, I am just as naked as he is.

  “You are so damned beautiful,” he says, his hands running down my body, coming to a stop at my hips.

  “Thank you. You are quite handsome yourself,” I tell him.

  “Do not lie to me, Braya.” I want to murder everyone who did this to him. Everyone who told him he was less than. He is the king, for God’s sake. His confidence should know no bounds.

  “I do not lie, Your Majesty. I also do not wish to hear this kind of self-deprecation, especially when it is not true.”

  “Christofur,” he says, his lips finding a rather delicate spot on my neck.

  “Hmm?” I moan.

  “Say my name,” he demands, going back to my neck.

  “Christofur,” I moan, then he takes my left nipple into his mouth, and I lose it. I put my hands on his wet skin, letting them roam over his back before moving to the muscular expanse of his chest.

  “You’re mine now,” he growls before placing me on the bed.

  “Your what?” I ask, basking in the feel of his lips on my belly, moving lower.

  Chapter 3

  Christofur

  Her beauty astounds me. I do not think I’ve seen a more beautiful woman in my entire life. The fact that she sees more in me than I ever have makes me want her even more. I feel powerful for the first time ever as I get on the bed above her. I know that once this happens, she will be mine forever.

  "Everything," I murmur in answer to her question. Her mouth forms an "o" shape, but no sound comes out.

  “Why are you just staring at me?” she asks, trying to cover her body. I push her hands that are obstructing my view.

  “I literally cannot help myself,” I reply honestly.

  “It is impolite to stare,” she says, laughing.

  “I suppose it is.” I lean down and kiss her lips again. My hard cock is begging for relief. Using my fingers, I run them through her folds. She is wetter than I thought she would be. She moans at my slight touch. I bury my face there and taste her. I may not have done this before, but I have heard talk from my men about this kind of thing. War makes conversation bawdy, to say the least. It does not take long before she is grinding into my face harder and harder. I thank God that I am doing it correctly. Everything about her screams says that she is mine.

  “Stop. Please,” she begs with her words, but her hands tell me something different. I do stop because I have to be inside of her now.

  “Are you ready for me, Braya?” I ask as I move up her body and line myself up with her opening.

  “Yes. Take me,” she demands, wrapping her legs around my hips, effectively pulling me closer to her. I smile as I guide my cock into her slowly, pushing past her innocence. I am dangerously close to coming, but I surge forward, moving my hips faster and faster.

  “Christofur,” she moans loudly, her legs tightening around me.

  “Braya, fuck,” I growl, pounding in and out of her without restraint or regard for the bed. It creaks and groans under us. The only other sound in the room is our flesh and the little mewling sounds she makes.

  I can feel her tighten around me as she screams her release. I fill her with my seed. The only thought in my mind is breeding her, making her mine in every way possible.

  I pull out of her and lay beside her, so I don’t hurt her, but I drop kisses on her forehead. She reaches down and pulls the blankets over us; just as she settles down again, the door to the room bursts open.

  “Braya?” A man yells, storming into the room. He grabs her by the hair and drags her from the bed. At least she has the foresight to drag one of the blankets with her.

  “Father, you are hurting me,” she yells right back. Damn, this will not be good.

  “You have dishonored our family and the king,” her father says.

  “Take your hands off of her, sir,” I demand, getting out of bed, forgetting that I am not dressed.

  “Your Majesty,” he says, bowing his head.

  “You have not released her,” I growl, and he immediately does so.

  “I have other whores, better ones than she,” the tavern master says.

  “I am not interested in whores. What is your name?”

  “Robert Lyons.”

  “Mr. Lyons, I must ask you for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  “I am afraid I cannot give her to you, my lord.”

  “Excuse me? I am your king; I was merely asking out of courtesy,” I growl. This man is pissing me off mightily.

  “She is already betrothed, and I have taken her bride price.” I look at Braya and feel utterly betrayed. She belongs to another man.

  “What?” Braya screeches. “To who? When?” It appears my girl didn’t know this, but it hurts all the same.

  “Just this evening to Lucas Kreacher.”

  “Lucas Kreacher is an old man,” Braya says.

  “So, he will not notice what a whore you are. Get your clothes and get out of here at once.”

  Braya looks at me. Her eyes plead with me to interject, but there are some things a king should not do, and breaking contracts, especially betrothals, are one such thing.

  She has tears in her eyes as she grabs her clothes and walks out of the room.

  “Your Majesty, I apologize for my daughter’s behavior; she knows better.”

  “It was my fault, Mr. Lyons.”

  “Even so. I will beat the whore out of her.”

  “You will not,” I growl, upset that he would lay a hand on my girl.

  “All due respect, Your Majesty, I will do as I please with regards to punishing my daughter. There is really nothing you can do about it. Are you sure you do not want the services of one of my whores?”
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br />   “Fuck off,” I say, and he glares at me before bowing his way out of the room.

  I need her, and there is no way in hell, I will let anything happen to her, nor will I allow her father to live long. As king, I am afforded the right to do as I please. She is what pleases me. I get dressed and storm out of the room, calling for Carlise as I go. He appears out of nowhere.

  “Prepare the horses; we are leaving at once,” I tell him. If he is surprised by my order, he says nothing. He bows and leaves to do my bidding.

  The only other door along the hallway that is closed has to be where she is. I kick the door open, startling the inhabitants. It’s not who I am looking for.

  "Fuck," I shout. I leave the couple and go downstairs into the kitchen. I find her alone in the corner. She's dressed again, and there are tears in her eyes and the beginnings of a bruise on her face. Without a word, I pick her up and carry her out of the tavern in my arms.

  “Oy! Where are you going with my daughter, Your Majesty?” her father demands from behind the bar as I stride to the door of the debauched establishment.

  “I am taking her home,” I say, walking outside, daring anyone to try and stop me. I set her on her feet and swing up onto Dredge. I grab her hand and pull her up to sit in front of me. It’s a cold night, but luckily, we do not have a long way to go.

  We will be warm in my bed within four hours, give or take. I will deal with her father later. Her safety is what is most important right now.

  Chapter 4

  Braya

  With Christofur's big strong arms around me, I feel safe. So safe that even the wild horse ride through the forest in the middle of the night as he takes me from my father is lulling me to sleep. He has even wrapped his cloak around the both of us and is teasing my nipple without his man, Carlisle, I think; we were only briefly introduced before we took off at a breakneck speed, knowing what is happening beneath the cloak. I am throbbing between my thighs, so much so that I find myself rocking back and forth, seeking the sweet release I found earlier in my bed with the man behind me.

  “Sit still, Braya. Your arse is driving me mad.”

  “Apologies, Your Majesty,” I say, turning my head slightly so that he can hear me over the wind.

  “My name is Christofur,” he growls directly into my ear, sending delicious shivers throughout my body. All I can do is nod in acknowledgment of his words.

  Finally, we arrive at his castle, and I have whisked away to his bedchamber, without him. I am not sure what to do, so I lay down on the vast bed that dominates the room and close my eyes. I am awoken a little while later by a maid lighting the fireplace.

  “Hello,” I say, startling her.

  “Oh, hello, my lady. I am Eliza, your maid. His majesty sent me to help you change.”

  “Change into what?” I ask, remembering that I just have the shabby clothes on my back.

  “I’ve brought a nightdress for you. We are similar in size. He says that you should rest.”

  “Of course, but I can dress myself. I am not accustomed to having help with anything.”

  “I understand; his majesty told me you might feel that way. I am here if you need me,” she says, handing me a soft nightgown.

  “Thank you, Eliza.”

  “You are very welcome, my lady. Please pull this bell if you need me, and I shall come at once.”

  “Please call me Braya, and I will. Thank you.”

  “I cannot; that would not be proper.”

  I nod, though I don’t understand. I know that I am in the king's actual chambers, not a guest room.

  “I understand. Can you tell me when or if I can expect him?”

  “I am here now, Braya,” my king says from the door I did not hear open.

  “My lady, Your Majesty,” Eliza says, curtseying before backing out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

  “How are you settling in?” he asks, sitting in a large chair.

  “Settling in? What is happening here? Am I to be your mistress? I do not understand why you took me. You do not owe me anything.”

  “I owe you everything. I have taken your virginity.”

  “I gave you my virginity. You did not force me,” I remind him, but he ignores me.

  “I wanted to do this properly, but I do not know how to.”

  I do not speak; I cannot. The look on his face is severe and arousing at the same time. Still, he says nothing.

  "Do what?" I whisper.

  "Be my queen."

  "Are you telling me or asking me."

  "Both." I love what he is saying, but it is not practical.

  "How would this even work? I am nothing more than a serving wench from a tiny village pub.

  "And I am the king, and what I say goes. No one would dare question me or besmirch your name."

  "Not out loud," I say under my breath.

  "Say yes, and I will be utterly devoted to you. You will help me lead our people.”

  “Are you certain, Your Majesty?”

  “Call me Christofur, and I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life.”

  “What of love?”

  “What of it? You know that is between us already,” he says, getting up from his chair and coming closer to me. As soon as he says it, I know it to be true. I love this man, and I will do anything to keep him.

  “My king,” I begin. “I love you.” My voice is barely above a whisper, but I know that he heard me.

  “I love you too, my queen,” he says before devouring my mouth. We move toward the bed. He pauses to rid himself of his clothes. I reach down and do the same. We come together again, flesh on flesh. He is so warm that I forget that there is a chill in the air as he takes me down to the bed. His hard cock digging into me, making me feel alive.

  “Christofur,” I cry out as he pulls my nipple into his mouth.

  “Yes, my love?”

  “Do not tease me so. I need more. Give me more,” I demand, and he chuckles against my skin, the vibrations giving me nothing but pleasure.

  “I am your king, my love; I can do as I please.”

  “Very true,” I whimper, grinding my body against his seeking the sweet relief I crave. He has made me addicted to him in a matter of hours. I should be concerned, but I am not. I am delighted beyond belief that love is real, and I get to navigate it with this man.

  “I shall not tease you anymore, Braya, but I cannot hold back.”

  “I never asked you too,” I say, grabbing his chin and guiding him to my mouth. The searing kiss we share is almost my undoing, but then he slides into me slowly.

  “Fuck, Braya. You are beyond perfection,” he growls, his teeth clenched.

  “I should hope not, my king. That would be very boring indeed,” I cry as my breath leaves my body in short, desperate pants.

  No more words are shared between us, just gasps, moans, and groans coming from both of us. He is so deep inside of me; I could swear our souls melted together. I scream his name as I come apart in his arms.

  “You never answered me,” he growls, still pumping into me, harder and faster than earlier.

  “What?” I ask, confused; I am not sure I could even tell him my name right now.

  “Marry me. Tomorrow.”

  “The banns,” I say, and he pauses his movements.

  “Banns are nothing to the king, Braya. Marry me.” He looks down at me before resuming. I tighten my legs around his waist, never wanting him to stop loving me like this.

  “Yes,” I hiss as my release finds me again.

  “Thank fuck,” he growls as he fills my wombs with his seed yet again.

  Tomorrow cannot come soon enough.

  Chapter 5

  Christofur

  Once she is asleep, I gently get out of bed. There is much to be done. I dress in darkness before stoking the fire. I do not want her to catch a chill without me to warm her. Outside the bedchamber, I find Gavin. He’s still the best damn protocol officer, but he is advancing in years and will r
etire soon. He has been training his replacement for about six months now.

  “Good evening, Your Majesty. I trust you are well?” he asks, a grandfatherly and knowing look on his face. He knows. I think the whole castle knows. If there is one thing Braya is not, it is quiet.

  “Very well, Gavin. You are up late.”

  “I assumed you would need me eventually. An unchaperoned girl in the castle can only mean marriage bells.”

  “Indeed. We are to be wed later today.”

  “I thought so. Forgive me for anticipating your needs. Bishop Taylor is already here and in guest quarters. He says he can be ready at ten in the morning.”

  “Excellent.”

  “I have also set up a wedding breakfast on the south terrace for eleven. I just need to send out invitations, but I wanted to be sure this is what you wanted.”

  “Yes. Guests are welcome to the breakfast, but I would prefer if the ceremony were private. Her coronation should be at the same time. I will host a ball later this month in her honor.”

  “Very good. I will send messengers out now with the invites. I am not sure how many will turn up with the late notice, but I am sure the promise of a ball will appease those that cannot make it.”

  “Very well. I should also require my knight's council to meet me after the ceremony before breakfast. Can you handle that for me?”

  “Of course. I shall set it up in the throne room. Shall I have the smaller throne moved back in?”

  “Yes, please,” I reply. Gavin is making this so easy for me. I will hate to lose him.

  “Very well. Get some sleep, Your Majesty. It’s going to be a wonderful day for all of Raultshire.”

  “Indeed. I will also be barring Robert Lyons from the premises. If he resists, have the guard kill him.”

  “Sire?”

  “My lady’s father. Not the best man, if you know what I mean.”

  “Very good. I will inform the guard at once.”

  “Thank you, Gavin. For everything.”

  “You are very welcome. Now, sleep, sire.”

  I leave Gavin and head down to the kitchens. The cook, Belinda, always leaves some sweets for me. Sure enough, they are right there on the table in the middle of the kitchen. I make a plate, grab a bottle of wine, and head back upstairs. Braya is sitting up in bed. Her breasts are out, but the blankets cover her lower half.