Queen Sized
Royally Screwed: Book 7
Madison Faye
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Also by Madison Faye
Mailing List
About the Author
Copyright Notice
Copyright © 2019 Madison Faye
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Chapter 1
Oren
The bike thundered down the road, tires biting the asphalt as I cranked the throttle. There was a tightness in my jaw—a fire clawing through my veins and my blood pumping like molten steel. My shoulders bunched, hands gripping the handlebars tight as my eyes narrowed on the road ahead.
The road to her.
We’d only met once. One touch. One look. One kiss. But that’s all it’d taken. A single hit of the illicit drug, right to the vein, and I was a fucking addict. Consumed by her. Obsessed. Hungry. I craved her soft lips, and the sweet taste of her moans in my mouth. I hungered for the feel of her full, soft curves under my big, rough hands.
It’d been months since the night of King Rian’s ball he’d thrown to find his bride. And he had, though not how he’d imagined he would. It’d been a night for many people to find their one true love—King Rian with his Emilia, and his friends the brother-Kings Adam and Shane with their Vi. Rian may have been my King and employer, but he was also a friend. As were Adam and Shane McDermott. And I was happy for my friends for having found their happiness.
And yet, there was a darkness inside of me. A hunger. An ache that wouldn’t go away.
Because it wasn’t just Rian, Shane, and Adam who’d found their true loves that night.
I had, too.
I’d been on duty, of course. My duty as Rian’s Captain of the Guards to his kingdom came first, above all and everything else. Always. That night, as the ball and the festivities had gone on around me, I’d kept a sharp, cold eye over it all—surveying, assessing, watching. Ever vigilant, ever driven to complete my duty above and beyond the required. Because that’s just who I am.
It was when I’d slipped out of the ballroom to check on some of my men at their checkpoint post that I’d found her. Found, held, kissed, and utterly fallen for.
…Well, technically, she’d fallen first.
Literally.
As I said, duty comes first for me. Always, and beyond everything and anything else. No distractions could sway me, no temptations could pull me away from my sworn duty and mission. And yet that night?
That night, all that hardened drive and unwavering commitment went out the damn window, and all from one damn look at her.
She was a vision in silver and royal blue. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a silver crown and a gown that hugged her ample, mouthwatering curves—cupping her ass and taught across her full tits in a way that could make a man jealous of silk. She moved like smoke across the floor of the side-hallway outside of the main ballroom. And I. Was. Lost.
I watched her like a man stupefied by a spell—utterly smitten, utterly hooked. Completely obsessed. The ball was forgotten. Duty went out the fucking window. And my cock turned to steel in my uniform as my blood ran hot like fire. And then, I watched it happen in slow motion.
She tugged her dress up over her bejeweled heels as she took a step up the small staircase up to the open-air terrace that looked over Rian’s gardens. That dress pulled tight across her succulent, full ass, and I swear I groaned out loud as my balls swelled with cum. She took another step on her stilettos, and then another, and then, her foot landed on the world’s most ill-placed cocktail napkin, lying in the shadows of the staircase unseen.
And I moved like lightning.
Her foot kicked out, her breath caught, and she started to lose the fight against gravity as she slipped backwards—right into my arms. She gasped, her eyes going wide and her breath rushing out of her in a whoosh as my thick arms caught her and held her tight, cradling her against my chest.
“You—” Her cheeks flushed pink, her gorgeous blue eyes sparkling into mine as her soft, pouty lips pulled back in a half smile.
“You caught me,” she breathed.
I could only nod, my eyes blazing into hers. Fuck, the feel of her curvy body against mine, and my hands holding her like she was mine to hold had my mind going numb as the blood thundered through my veins and rushed to my cock.
Her eyes flickered over me as the blush deepened on her cheeks.
“You’re—you’re huge,” she whispered, her eyes moving over my arms, and my shoulders, and then glancing over her shoulders to see just how high she was off the floor with my height.
“So I’ve been told.”
I hadn’t meant it to be a double entendre, but I knew she’d taken it that way the second I saw her eyes snap to mine. And I was about to say something when I saw the faint little flicker of a grin spread over her soft lips.
I needed to put her down. I didn’t know who she was, but this was a royal ball, and from the elegant gown, to the silvered crown on her head, I could guess she was royalty. I was merely a soldier, and here I was cradling her and pulling her tight to my body like I was about to kiss her or carry her over the threshold of our marriage bedroom.
And yet, the thought of letting her go, and of not having my hands on her sent rage through me, and I felt frozen.
“You should probably put me down,” she whispered, her breath heavy.
I frowned, shaking my head from the fantasy I’d been slipping into as reality came up to slap me in the face.
“My apologies, highness,” I muttered. “And at once—”
“You don’t have to.”
Her words came out in a heated whisper, her eyes hooded and locked on me, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. The fire began to burn fiercer inside of me, my muscles clenching and my hands tightening on her. And fuck I was so hard I could have carved marble with my cock.
“Perhaps I should,” I growled.
“Probably,” she whispered back. “But—”
“But maybe I won’t.”
She swallowed, the heat burning through her cheeks as our eyes locked.
This was wrong. This was dangerous. This was me losing myself. But I could. Not. Stop. I didn’t want to. I knew in an instant I’d never stop when it came to this girl.
I moved before I could stop myself, turning and pressing her to the stone wall behind her. She gasped, her hands tightening on my uniform, her breath coming panting and heavy as her eyes blazed into mine.
“I—” she swallowed. “What are we doing?”
“This.”
And before I could think it through—before reason could yell at me how supremely stupid this was, before the vows of duty I’d taken could blaze their way into my head, I moved. I moved with a purpose I’d never known before, and when my lips crushed to hers, the rest of the world faded to nothing around us both.
I groaned into her lips, swallowing the moans from hers as she panted them hu
ngrily into my mouth. Her body had writhed against mine, her hands clutching me tight, her full breasts pressed to my chest, and her mouth locked with mine. It may have lasted a second, perhaps an eternity. All I know is, when I did finally pull away, I knew I was never going to be the same.
And just then, the alarm on my radio sounded with a code red, and everything shattered. I brought her gently to the floor, and just like that, she was slipping away from me. The war between lust and duty raged in my head. But in the end, I didn’t have to pick a side.
…She did.
“You—I—” She swallowed. “I should go.”
“Highness—”
But just like that, she was turning, stepping past me, and hurrying down the hallway back towards the ballroom.
…Just like that, I watched as she slipped through my fingers. My heart. My everything. My fallen-in-one-second love. And just like that, she was gone.
Until now.
It’d been months since that night. The others who’d found love that night had moved forward—two weddings, and now a baby on the way inside the Queen Emilia. But there’d been no moving forward for me. In fact, I’d been stuck back in that night ever since, trapped like a prisoner, with her my only escape.
It was soon after that night that I realized who she was, which in a way makes it worse. Her name is Alessia Karl, and she was the damn Queen of Danesland, one of Bandiff’s neighbors to the north. She was a queen, and me a guardsman of decidedly un-royal blood. It may be the twenty-first century, but there are still customs that are followed. She was my obsession, and yet she was so off limits and so far removed from my world that it was almost a fucking joke.
But that hadn’t stopped me. It hadn’t stopped me craving her. It hadn’t stopped me from wanting her and hungering for her. And that day, it hadn’t stopped me from roaring my bike down the road towards her.
For the last few months, I’d been consumed by my duties to Rian and Emilia, especially with the baby on the way. But that day, Queen Alessia was back in Bandiff. And she was going to be mine.
Technically, she was to be another’s. That’s why she was there, actually, staying at the royal summer palace on the shore of Lake Camden. She was meeting her betrothed.
Spoiler: it wasn’t me.
His name was King Brian LaBeau. Well, king-apparent. It wouldn’t be until his marriage to Alessia that he fulfilled the laws of his country of Seyvette and ascended his late father’s throne. And as Rian’s Captain of the Royal Guard, I’d been tasked with guarding the summer palace and the “esteemed guests” of Bandiff.
…It’s almost funny how cruel a twist of fate it was. A woman I couldn’t have, who I was lost for, and now it was my sworn duty to oversee her marriage to another man.
I snarled as I gun the engine, the bike spitting smoke and gravel as I roared off the highway and onto the country road that would lead me to the summer palace.
I’d spent a lifetime following orders. I’d committed my life to duty, and honor. But that day?
Well, that day, I was going to break those vows. I was going to be neglecting duty. That day, my orders would get left behind.
Guard her and watch her while she marries another man?
My jaw tightened.
No.
Queen Alessia had been mine the moment she fell into my arms and into my world. And that day, I was going to remind her of that, if it was the last thing I did.
Chapter 2
Alessia
It’d finally come to this: arranged marriage.
God, what a silly an antiquated term. And yet, here we were, and here I was, about to meet this “betrothed” for the first time.
At twenty-one, I was Queen of Danesland. And while, yes, my kingdom had welcomed me as their queen, even as young as I’d been when I was crowned. But Then I’d turned eighteen. And then nineteen. And twenty. And now twenty-one, and suddenly, there’d been “murmurings” amongst a certain set of people. People who wondered “what was wrong with me” or started conversations in bars or on online forums wondering how effective a ruler I could possibly be being single.
…Something told me, should I have been a king and not a queen, we wouldn’t be seeing a single whisper of these same conversations.
A queen, yes, everyone’s fine with that. But a single one? An unmarried one at twenty-one? My goodness, you’d have thought the world might stop spinning if a woman wasn’t dutifully at her husband’s side the way some people were talking.
It was my uncle and late mother’s brother, Lord Nolan, who’d first proposed the idea. Now, don’t get me wrong, Nolan was very firmly on my side when it came to how silly this whole “unmarried queen” bullshit was. But Nolan also very much had his fingers on the pulses of all sorts of circles—the public, the private little groups within the palace, and the royal council, of which he was the chair of. He fully supported me not being married and living my own life as a strong and capable ruler. But he also understood the will of the council. And if the murmurings got too loud with the right people, I could very well be de-throned.
Ridiculous, I know, but there we were, and there I was, ready to meet my “betrothed.” I didn’t want to get married, but I was also savvy enough to know that I’d get much more shit done as ruler of my kingdom if I had the council on my side. And if I needed to marry some man to get that done? So be it. Plenty of other regents had had to swallow far more bitter pills in order to lead effectively.
So, fine. So be it.
As it happened, my uncle had found me someone, well, beige, for lack of a better word. That’s really the best way I could describe King-apparent Brian LaBeau. He wasn’t some macho guy, or one of those rich, arrogant, pompous princes you always see in the tabloid headlines. Hell, most people hadn’t ever even heard of Prince Brian, of Seyvette before his father had died. Apparently, he’d been estranged from his late father, and off traveling the world. But when his country’s somewhat old-world ideas of there being a male heir to take the throne, Brian has come home to his sister, Simone. That’s when my uncle had stepped in and made the proposition.
Brian was also not a big man. He was young, with a wispy beard—red, like his hair. The man was… well, small, with delicate hands. Honestly, “effeminate” is the best word I had to describe him. Uncle Nolan hadn’t outright said it, but I was sure all of this was on purpose. He knew I didn’t want to marry, and a man I could throw around myself was a man I wouldn’t ever have to cow to or “obey” like a dutiful little queenly wife. This was my throne, and I would not be giving it up to some man because of history or customs about male ascendency.
Fuck. That.
I sighed as I stepped out of the bedroom of the summer palace onto the terrace that looked out over the gorgeous lake. I’d already had a few “meet and greets” with Brian, but us being here in Bandiff for the this “weekend to get to know each other” with Brian was… well, confusing. Maybe even a little painful. Because months ago, it was here where I fell, literally, for the one man who’s ever made my heart skip a beat. The one man who’s ever turned my blood to fire and my panties to a soaking mess.
Huge, brawny, muscled, and freaking gorgeous. Dark hair, blue eyes, and just enough scruff across his chiseled jaw to make my knees weak.
His name was Oren Henley, and he was the only man I wanted. The only man who’d been haunting my dreams ever since that one-night months ago.
The man who happens to be King Rian of Bandiff’s Captain of the Royal Guard.
I shook my head, taking a breath of the clean lakeside air as I looked out over the countryside.
It was wrong to want him like that. Dangerous, even. Because after all, I was a queen, and even with this being the twenty-first century, people had certain notions about how royals wed, or more importantly, who they wed. The easy solution to all of this would have been to storm into my council and tell them the man who I’d be marrying to settle their ridiculous notions would be Oren—my huge, brawny, mysterious fantasy man from
the ball those months before.
Except, Oren Henley was no royal. It didn’t matter one lick to me, but I wasn’t naïve enough to think the council would ever have okayed it. Then, of course, there was the other part to this—that maybe, just maybe, this was all in my head.
Not him being real—I mean, I wasn’t crazy. But the feelings I had, and what I’d felt after that night. I wanted to believe it was as powerful and as real as I’d felt, but I had to realize that Captain Oren may have felt differently. After all, I very much doubted with a man like that that I was his first kiss.
…But he’d been mine.
Yeah. At twenty-one, falling into a stranger’s arms and getting lost in his gorgeous blue eyes had been my very. Freaking. First. Kiss. Maybe that’s pathetic, but who knows.
I mean, when else would I have had it happen? I’d been crowned at the age of twelve. I’d been running an entire kingdom by two years later. When exactly would I be out going on dates or having first kisses? So, yes, months ago, in a dark palace hallway, in the powerful, muscled arms of a gorgeous stranger, I’d had my first kiss.
I’ve been obsessing over it, and him, ever since. And being back in Bandiff wasn’t exactly helping. I didn’t know who he was that night, but it didn’t take long after for me to piece together who he was. And right now, I was trying to decide if I was happy or sad that he wasn’t at the royal summer palace that weekend for my “meeting” with Brian.
You know it’s for the best.
Maybe I did. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
Weirdly, it was Brian who’d suggested the summer palace in Bandiff to be our meeting place for the weekend. But, my pulse-quickening obsession with King Rian’s gorgeous, hunky Captain of the Guard aside, I was actually pretty glad to be there. In the months since the night of the ball, I’d actually become pretty good friends with Queen Emilia, and through her, Lola, one of the Duchesses of Bandiff, and Queen Vi, who was one of Emilia’s best friends growing up and now the queen of neighboring Nessa. I mean, Bandiff was a neighbor of Danesland. And when a new queen close to my age came into the picture, I guess we just started to hang out.
Queen Sized: Royally Screwed: Book 7 Page 1