by Jessa Kane
I dreamt of Rexington Monroe naked.
I should be ashamed.
This dear man showed me such kindness and here I am, objectifying his…excitingly large body. Saints alive, if the castle were falling, he could probably prop it up with one hand and not even break a sweat. There is weight around his middle, his thighs and backside are thick, impenetrable slabs of muscle and fat. His arms are big, meaty weapons. He makes the other guards look like schoolboys. And yet, he was so gentle with me.
There is definitely hair on his body. The question is, how much? And where?
Is it coarse? Would he like me playing with it?
Stop at once, Britta. You are shameful.
“Now then, Queen Britta,” drones Richard. “I know this is a most difficult time for you, but we are in a vulnerable state, you see. Without a king on the throne, Downsriver might appear…vulnerable to our enemies. It is in the kingdom’s best interest for you to take a husband as soon as possible.”
My spine snaps straight. “A husband?”
For some reason, my gaze shoots to Rex. He is still staring straight ahead, but a muscle is now bunched up in his cheek.
“Yes, Queen. A husband fit to wear your father’s crown.”
“I don’t understand,” I manage, massaging the sudden pounding in my temple. “We aren’t absent of a leader. I am capable of guiding the kingdom.”
Mostly.
Okay, barely.
But I can fake it until I am.
Can’t I?
This small continent we share with three other kingdoms suddenly seems quite vast. Full of people who depend on their leaders for resources. For their chance at livelihood and families. There is one river running through the center of our continent, which is nestled in the sea between Ireland and the Great Britain. Two empires reside on either side of the mighty river, and we are the farthest south. We each have particular goods to offer and I assumed our relationships with the other nations were peaceful, but I am beginning to think I know very little of the politics between kingdoms.
“Yes, of course you are capable of guiding us, Queen. But others might be…shall we say, skeptical? That a girl of eighteen could defend against attacks or make strategic decisions.” Richard hesitates, combing fingers through his thinning gray hair. “I don’t want to make this time harder for you, but it appears the attack on your parents wasn’t merely a robbery. They were hired assassins from the neighboring kingdom of Northstream.”
My blood turns icy. “Assassins?”
“Yes.”
“Why? What would Northstream hope to gain from killing my parents?”
“We can only speculate, Your Majesty, but…”
“Please.” I lean forward. “Speak plainly.”
Richard nods. “The king of Northstream is ambitious. It is possible he wanted to provoke a war with Downsriver. And without the king and queen on the throne, he might assume a victory is inevitable.”
“I see. And if I marry, we might avoid a war. Or win one, if need be.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I have two choices in mind. Both of them princes. Marrying one of them would not only secure Downsriver but build an alliance with another kingdom as well.”
I hum in response, feeling as though I’m having an out-of-body experience. If only I could go back to yesterday morning when these huge decisions weren’t mine to make.
Once again, my attention finds its way to Rex and he’s watching me openly now from the corner of his eye, those big hands balled into fists.
A spear seems to have lodged in my middle.
If I take a husband, I’ll never be able to hug him again.
I’m suddenly so anxious for one of those hugs, I could choke.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about, Richard,” I say, ready to fling this heavy crown across the hall. “I’ll give you my decision before the day is over.”
Richard laughs nervously. “Your Majesty, my apologies, but I must insist we move quickly on this. I’ve already sent word to the princes. They will be here tomorrow.”
I swallow my reaction with difficulty. An advisor isn’t supposed to make decisions of this magnitude without express consent of their superior. In this case…me. But he’s known me since I was a child. He’s my godfather. So while I know the proper thing to do is admonish him, I can’t seem to find it in me. Not with all the members of the palace court present. Furthermore, maybe he’s right. Maybe this isn’t something that can wait and I should be grateful for his proactive attitude. “Thank you,” I murmur.
Which isn’t necessarily an agreement.
The last thing I want to do is send soldiers—soldiers like Rex—into a battle to die. And what of the people who I now rule? What if they are killed or lose their houses? Loved ones? I cannot allow that to happen.
But is my only option marrying a prince for protection?
Surely there must be another way.
Needing some air, I push to my feet.
I start to come down from the elevated throne platform, when a thought occurs to me. There is a chance I won’t be able to avoid marriage, but I am still the queen.
I do have power, don’t I?
“Richard,” I say, lifting my chin, frowning when the crown slides down and I have to push it up. “Starting today, I shall only require one guard, instead of fourteen.”
He whitens. “But, Your Majesty, if anything, you should have more protection now that you are queen—”
“I will retain Rexington Monroe as my personal guard,” I blurt, before I can lose my nerve—and oh my. Saying his name out loud makes me shiver. “The other thirteen brave men will be placed among the streets of Downsriver. I seem to recall my father discussing an uptick in crime near the market. They can better serve the kingdom there. Thank you.”
I don’t wait for another argument, hurrying down the center aisle of the great hall.
I’m shocked at my aplomb, but I do my best not to show it.
When I’m even with Rex, he pushes off the wall and follows me, his big shadow swallowing me up from behind. “I think I’ll go for a swim,” I say, smiling at him over my shoulder.
Do I hear a groan or is that my imagination?
3
Britta
I’ve been coming to this private inlet of water since I was a child, though it has been a while. Specifically, when I got breasts, I started coming here a lot less. I couldn’t very well go frolicking around in wet underthings with fourteen soldiers watching me, could I?
I’m not sure why I feel safe doing it in front of Rex.
Or maybe safe isn’t the correct word.
I find myself…wanting to be daring with Rex.
Last night, lying with a man who wasn’t my husband? That was incredibly daring.
It isn’t unusual for two young people to marry after being caught in such a compromising position…
Marry.
If I’d been caught with Rex, would my parents have forced a wedding to salvage my honor? Or would they have tried to cover it up?
Probably the latter, considering he isn’t a royal.
But it’s an interesting thing to ponder, isn’t it?
Marrying Rexington Monroe.
If anyone could keep a kingdom safe, it would be him, wouldn’t it?
He is certainly more than enough to keep me safe. His watchful gaze and poised posture tell me as much. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword, his deep brown eyes scanning the trees that surround the inlet. “You can relax, Rex,” I say, finally taking the crown off my head and moaning at the sudden loss of pressure in my neck. “No one is going to ambush us.”
“With respect, that’s for me to worry about, Your Highness.”
“Can you please call me Britta?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. His attention narrows in on my hand where it kneads the sore muscles of my neck. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, the crown is just heavy.”
Rex grunts, his fingers flexing on
his sword. Is he thinking of massaging me himself?
That thought sends an arrow of sensation straight to my nipples and they pebble inside the bodice of my dress, fuzzing the edges of my vision.
“Will you marry one of the princes, then?” Rex half-shouts at me.
“I haven’t decided yet. But it can’t hurt to meet them.”
He snorts.
I draw up short. “Are you angry with me?”
“No, love. Of course not,” he sighs, his knuckles white on the hilt of his sword. “I’m mad at the circumstances. I’m mad that you’re being asked to do something so ridiculous.”
“Why is it ridiculous? It’s a common occurrence, royalty marrying for the sake of an alliance. If my parents were still alive, it probably would have been arranged eventually.” Ignoring his thunderous expression, I toe off my slippers. “There are far worse reasons to marry than avoid a war and being responsible for casualties.”
“You wouldn’t be responsible,” he growls. “The king of Northstream would be.”
“No. If I have the power to stop him, I have to do it, or I would be responsible.”
Rex paces away with a curse, turns around and stomps back. “And since you asked, I’ll tell you what would be ridiculous. To marry some pretentious prince when you’re well able to rule the kingdom yourself.”
My lips twitch. “How do you know they’ll be pretentious?”
His expression is pure disgust. “They just will.”
I press my mouth into a straight line to keep from laughing. It seems Rex has more than one mode to his personality. Last night, he was sweet and comforting. Today he’s a grumpy bear. “Do you want to come swimming?”
He shifts uncomfortably, crossing his arms. “No, thank you. But I’ll ask you to be careful, Your Majesty.”
“I’ll limit my number of back flips.”
Now he seems to be the one battling a smile.
Rex turns his big body slightly, giving me a modicum of privacy, while still keeping me in his sights to protect me. Quickly, I strip off my dress, fling it into the grass and wade into the water wearing my slip.
The inlet is warm and clear. It welcomes me, beckoning me to sink down beneath the surface, and I do so, coming up to take a breath and let the sunshine warm my face. Yesterday was long, but today was even longer. But this place I used to come when I was a child soothes my grief with its familiarity. My parents and I didn’t have close relationship and they were often busy with political business, but we loved each other in our own way. Fondly. With respect. And I will miss seeing them in their thrones.
I’m about to sink beneath the surface again when I get a cramp in my toe.
“Ow!”
Rex is already throwing off his armor and splashing into the water, sword drawn. “Britta,” he rasps, panicked. “What is it?”
“You called me by my name!” I gasp, shakily.
A vein ticks in his temple. “You cried out in pain. What is wrong?”
“Just a toe cramp.” The kinked sensation promptly moves to my entire foot. “Oh. Ow!”
“Fucking hell.” Dropping his sword, Rex picks me up out of the water, holding me against his chest with his strong right arm, reaching down with his left to massage my foot. “Right here, love?”
I press my cheek to his chest with a gusty sigh. Lord, it feels glorious to be held by this man. The entire world could fall down and he wouldn’t let a speck of dust reach me. “Yes. Right there. Thank you.”
When I sling my legs up around his waist, I swear I do it so his arms won’t have to hold my entire weight. I’m trying to be helpful. But oh God, I don’t expect it to feel so good to have the thick trunk of his body between my legs.
“Oh my,” I whisper, nestling closer—encountering a thick ridge between our stomachs.
Rex goes very still, his breath rattling in my ear. “Ah, love. This isn’t suitable.”
“What is that?” I whisper, shifting my hips.
He hisses through his teeth. “That’s a part of me you’ll never have to worry about. I’m sorry. It’s very difficult to keep it from…reacting…when you’re clinging to me like this. Wet and beautiful and other things.”
It’s an erection. Of course. I’ve been learning about health and anatomy for years. It’s just that the diagram of the male body made the penis look so small. Like a thumb.
This has the thickness of my bedpost. The length of a milk jug.
“W-was it like this last night?” I whisper into his neck, unable to subdue a thrill.
I hear him swallow. “I’m ashamed to say, yes, Britta. I was…very hard with you pressed up against me like that. I couldn’t make it go away, no matter what I tried.”
Pleasure slides into my belly, sticky and hot. “You desire me, then,” I breathe. “You want to put—”
“Oh Jesus. Don’t finish that sentence,” he growls. “I am your guard. I shouldn’t even be holding you like this. I’ve no goddamn right.”
“But I like you holding me.”
Rex pulls back, his expression incredulous. “Why? Don’t you have eyes, Britta?”
My brows knit together. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He shakes his head. “Britta, I look like a beast of the bloody forest. Scarred and heavy and hairy—”
Ha! I knew it!
“And you’re…well, you have a mirror. You’re nothing short of an angel. Do you not see the differences in us?”
As he’s been speaking, his hands have begun to shape my calves, his palms running up and down the curves of each. As if unconscious of the movement. And I’m definitely not going to say anything to stop him, because the scrape of his rough hands is heaven itself, sending fiery tingles along my limbs. “I don’t understand. Are you saying two people have to be the same body type in order to—”
“Do not. Finish. That sentence.” His hands are coasting over my knees now, gripping me mid-thigh. “Let’s get you dressed and back to the palace, Princess.”
That’s what he says. But his eyes are zeroed in on my mouth.
“Maybe you should kiss me instead,” I murmur, tilting my face up toward his. “I think that’s what you want to do.”
“What I want doesn’t factor into this.” His touch coasts higher, dragging my drenched slip up toward my hip, his mouth dipping closer to mine. “I’m your servant.”
“Maybe I’ll order you to do it, then,” I whisper. “Just like last night.”
He holds his breath a beat.
I search his eyes, wanting to make sure the feeling is mutual and I’m not abusing my power over this man. But no. His pupils have bled into the rich brown and I sense the same hunger inside him that is purring inside of me. Maybe his is even stronger than mine. Yes, his hands clutch my hips now, molding me, learning my shape, and I roll my body on instinct, enticing his bulge with light rides of my sex. In response, he yanks me closer, his shallow breaths pelting my mouth. “Britta.”
“I hereby order you to kiss me, Rexington Monroe.”
I’m not prepared for the full force of this man, my guard. He makes a hoarse sound and goes to battle with my mouth, a rough angling of his lips, breathing, breathing, absorbing me. Pulling at my mouth with seemingly everything inside of him. He begins to walk us toward the shore, the water making rippling sounds around his legs, moving with more and more urgency as he goes. And he never breaks that first suctioning kiss. Not until he has me laid down on the grassy bank of the inlet and he’s blocking out the sun above me does Rex finally give me his tongue. He tastes me with it just as I’m running out of air, so I gasp into the determined intrusion, before recovering, lungs replenished, and I reach up, spearing my fingers into his hair, pulling him down for more.
I’ve read books and seen plays where the woman is overcome with lust, often destroying her life for one night, one experience, and I always thought it silly. But I never will again. I would trade chests of gold and ships and land for Rex’s kiss. There is no hesitation in him, just out
and out hunger, gruff grunts coming from his throat while he licks that tongue into me, over and over again, his thick body settling in between my thighs, though never giving me his full weight. I mewl over that fact, trying to pull him down on top of me, but he resists and kisses me with even more thoroughness, distracting me, turning me into a writhing paramour beneath his thick, warrior’s body.
Finally, Rex tears his mouth away, burying his face in my neck, his breath sawing in and out. “Jesus, the taste of you. Perfect. Perfect girl. You have to stop me, Britta.”
“I don’t want to stop.”
He lifts his head, his eyes clouded with thirst. Some anger as well. “What are you offering me? Your virginity? The future king might have something to say about that.” He looks down at my body, on display in nothing but a wet, white slip, and groans, running his hand down the center of my breasts, my belly, stopping just above my mound. “My God. If there’s a female alive worth getting hanged over, it’s you.”
“No.” My breath stutters. “I would never let that happen. I’d never tell.”
As if compelled, his hips move more securely into the cradle of mine, his erection hot and hard against my core. With a bitten off moan, I wrap my bare legs around his hips and take a slow, involuntary thrust from Rex, both of us panting, panting, his fingers burying in the grass, ripping it up. “I was in your bed chamber last night. You’ve made me your personal guard. It might be insane, the beautiful queen taking a beast between her thighs, but they’d have no one else to blame. Worse than anything, you would be…ridiculed. I couldn’t bear it.” He pumps his hips again and bares his teeth at me. “I can’t fuck you, Britta. Bad as I need to.”
Reality comes crashing down on me.
He’s right.
He’s…right.
If we were found in this position, Rex would take the punishment. Not me.