The Royal's Pet

by Adora Crooks

  “Focus.” That growl is all Ben, and he bunches my hair up in a tight fist. The strain on my skull recenters me. I cut down the second leg of his briefs as Roland flicks my nipples and Ben’s lips trace my throat. My boys aren’t making this easy on me, and my body hums for them. I’m almost done, though, when I see how aroused Roland is. His white briefs barely cover his half-hard shaft, and the fleshy tip pokes out from the ruined cotton. I’m thirsty for him and the sight of him draws a low throb from between my legs.

  I’m shaky with need. My hand twitches and I gasp when I see a small, crimson nick on Roland’s inner thigh. “Oh, shit.” I drop the offending pocketknife. “I’m so sorry.”

  I don’t know what I thought would happen, but the thought comes to me—so he is human, he does bleed. He’s so godlike, so untouchable, that it’s striking to see him bleed the same blood as the rest of us mere Normals.

  “Leave it,” Roland says. There’s this new look in his eyes, a near-feral glow. The orange sunset bounces off his irises, giving him that purple hue. He tugs my head down so my lips meet his and kisses me roughly. The hunger in his lips… oh my God. It turns me on. There’s nothing practiced or proper about my animal prince. It takes less than nothing to rip his briefs from him, and now he’s completely naked underneath me. I straddle him, arms and legs tight around him, and sigh into his kiss. The nighttime sea breeze is cool on my bare skin, but his body is furnace hot, and I leave no space between us.

  “I need you inside of me,” I whisper. His organ is stiff on my stomach, and it’s killing me to have his perfect manhood so close and yet so far.

  “I’m crazy for you.” His breath hits my lips.

  Ben’s hands find my hips. “Let’s get rid of these,” he says. Then I feel it, the blade press against my thigh. The sting makes me freeze. My breath gets stuck in my throat when Ben tickles my thigh with the very tip of it. I feel tension on my panties when the blade catches on the side and then a sudden release when it snaps.

  Oh hell. That shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but it sends a flood of warmth through my middle. My heart pounds furiously in my chest as he goes for the other side. Again, the blade at my thigh, a snip—and that’s all it takes. Ben grabs the useless fabric and yanks it from between my legs so I’m bare. The soft cotton tickles my feminine folds on its way out.

  The sensation of them snipping my clothes away until I’m completely naked and vulnerable in front of them… it’s a rush. My head spins. Roland reaches over the chaise to grab his pants and pulls a condom out. He unpacks it, rolls it over his hard length, and then guides his cock inside of me. I moan. Ben kisses and fondles me from behind. My crimson patch of hair meets Roland’s chestnut curls as he fills me completely. Ben claims my throat with his lips and grips my hips, guiding my pace as I ride the prince. I hook one arm behind me around Ben’s neck and plant another hand on Roland’s chest.

  I have a prince underneath me and a bodyguard literally guarding my back. When did this become my life? It feels so unreal… and yet so right.

  Roland has his tongue down my throat when I hear Ben spit. I feel Ben cup my rear and press a saliva-lubed finger… there. He just holds it against my asshole and then murmurs in my ear, “Is this okay?”

  It’s hard to think, let alone speak. I’m lust-drunk. But I manage to nod and murmur, “Yes… that’s good.”

  Ben’s teeth make little dents in my neck, and he rubs circles against my secret place. Then he probes inside and—oh. With Roland’s thick organ penetrating me and now Ben’s finger, I whimper. It feels amazing in a way I never expected. He’s scratching an itch I didn’t even know I had, and now, with the both of them exploring me, my pleasure spikes. I feel dirty. So dirty. So filthy and used and… theirs. Completely theirs.

  Ben crooks his finger in a way that I can feel him petting the thin membrane between his finger and Roland’s cock, and it nearly does me in. I’m sweating now, overheating and on edge, but I need more to push me over. I’m not normally this kind of girl. I’m not normally this kinky, this desperate, this greedy. But these two men send me to places I never dared to go before, not in my wildest fantasies. Finally, I can’t hold back.

  “I want the both of you in me,” I beg. “Please.”

  Ben rewards me with a kiss to the side of my face. I melt into it before he pulls back, finger and all.

  “Stay,” he says.

  It’s an easy command to follow. As Ben pulls away, I lean forward against Roland. His body is hot, his arms cradle me, and his shaft hits me deeper than ever in this position.

  “I want to consume you,” Roland purrs, his voice like velvet on my skin.

  “Lucky for you, I want to be consumed.” I grin against his mouth.

  Our tongues meet, warm and wet. I run his silky hair through my fingers. I love that this strong, powerful man lets me set my own pace over him, grinding against him so I can keep him in, deep, deep, deep. A gull caws in the distance, the waves lap against the cliffs below, lulled by the swollen moon slowly on the rise, and I steal deep, dark kisses from my British prince. I don’t want to leave his arms, not ever.

  Ben is back—I only know because his fingertips run feather-like down my spine and make me shudder. He maps the small of my back, between my round cheeks, and manipulates my little hole again. I know what’s coming next, and the thought makes me throb around Roland’s manhood.

  Ben takes his hand away briefly, and when he replaces it, his finger is gooey with lube. Now he slides a finger inside me easily and then inserts a second. He’s testing my limits, stretching me. I push back into his hand. I can’t get enough.

  “Are you sure you want this?” Ben murmurs in my ear.

  I want this. God, I want this so badly, I can taste it. I want to be part of them. I want them to be part of me.

  “Please,” I whimper. “I want you. All of you.”

  Ben’s fingers slip away from me, and I push my hips forward against Roland to make up for the absence. But then I feel Ben press against my tight hole… and he feels so big here, so, so big. I clench at first, uncertain that I can take him all. But my body wants him, craves him, and slowly, inch by inch, he eases his monster instead of me. I gasp loudly and arch back.

  “Is that okay?” Ben asks as he cups my head. I feel droopy and limp in these men’s arms.

  “Yes…” I moan. “It’s… so good. I can feel you. Both of you.”

  It feels so bizarre at first. It should be impossible to feel this full, full of them, full of love, filled to the brim. They shower me with affection, using their lips, their hands, and I lose track of who is touching me where. All I know is my skin is on fire and I’ve never been more aroused in my life. They’re moving in tandem, like a wave, and I’m sucked into the riptide of their bodies. They moan, growl, suck my skin hungrily, and touch me reverently. I’m their pet, their toy, and their princess.

  All thoughts have fled. Any other day, I’d be plagued by homesick thoughts, guilt, distraction, fear—a swath of conflicting emotions battering around my head. Here, trapped between these two British alphas, my mind goes blissfully blank.

  Their love for each other is palpable. And then there’s me. The glue. The beating heart between two lungs. Here, in sync, we’re perfect and unstoppable. Even our hearts beat together—one tangled being.

  “You’re beautiful,” Roland whispers in a breathless mantra. “Beautiful, beautiful…”

  “I can’t hold back,” I breathe. My voice feels tight in my throat.

  “Then don’t,” Ben demands. “Cum for us, pet.”

  My orgasm explodes from me. My throat is nearly pinched shut, and I only get out a strained whimper and a series of, “Oh God, oh God, oh God…” I’m pulsing around them, both of them, as their hard members thrust inside of me, milking every throb from me. They release too, together, it seems; Roland tosses his head back with a shout, and Ben bites my shoulder and groans there. I can feel them dripping in me, out of me, and my greedy body continues to throb, holdi
ng them inside of me. My skin is so hot, but my throat has finally opened up and I pant for breath, dizzy with satisfaction.

  “I love you,” Roland says in a reverent moan, “I love you, I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” I whisper.

  “I love you both,” Ben murmurs last.

  I know this is the part where sparks are supposed to go off—we did it! We said those three magic words for the first time… all three of us! But it feels so natural, just like having them inside of me feels so natural, and there’s a warm, satisfying comfort about the romantic nothingness of the proclamation. We were just meant to be.

  We crumple together, one lazy mess of bodies on the chaise. We’re dirty, I’m covered in their fluids, but I can’t move. My muscles have dissolved, and my bones are rubbery and useless. Ben kisses my back, my hips, and Roland covers my face with his lips. I bliss out from my two affectionate, dominating men.

  Staring at Roland, his blue eyes vibrant, I realize just how vastly different my relationship with these two men is. Roland is fire and passion. It’s impossible not to fall crazy, deeply in love with him. Ben is a slow burn. He’s the calm in the middle of the storm and anchors me to the ground. Together, they balance me out. It’s weird, but it doesn’t even feel like I’m in two different relationships. They make one complete boyfriend—my yin and yang boys.

  Could this be my life?

  For the first time in a long, long time, I don’t want to be anywhere else.

  “How are you?” Roland asks, stroking my hair from my face.

  “Good,” I tell him. I must look crazy, my hair all over the place, eyes half-lidded. “Really, really good.”

  I giggle. I can’t help it. My endorphins are in overdrive.

  “That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” Ben states. “Hands down.”

  “Same,” Roland sighs. “We should do that every day.”

  “I’m not sure my body could take it,” I chuckle. What is wrong with me? I’ve come down with a fit of the giggles. Everything seems incredibly funny right now.

  “Ben will take middle next time,” Roland says. “Won’t you, mate?”

  Ben huffs audibly, and I bark a laugh.

  We catch our breath, and the men extract their softening organs from me. My body feels empty now, so I cuddle in close and soon the three of us are snuggled up, a pile of limbs.

  “Hell,” Ben says after a long lapse of comfortable silence. “I wish we could use the pool.”

  “That would require getting up.” Roland opens his mouth in a lion’s yawn. “And I’m in no state.”

  “I’ll test it.” I feel invigorated with my second wind. I clamber over their naked bodies and off the chaise. Even under the black blanket of night, the stone floor retains the sun’s warmth under my bare feet. I walk over to the edge of the pool and dip my toe in.

  It’s nice. Not too warm, not too cool. Minus some leaves floating around, it’s really not that bad.

  “Verdict?” Ben asks.

  I turn and wink at them. “Pussies.”

  I jump into the refreshing water with a splash. One after the other, they pile in after me.

  “My sister in white. Whodathunk?”

  I turn from the oval mirror, and my wedding dress flutters around me. My brother sits behind me. His tall, stick-thin body has been fitted into a handsome tuxedo suit. There’s a white flower pinned to the arm of his wheelchair. He looks great.

  I beam and lift the hem of my dress in a faux curtsy. “What do you think? Too much?”

  “Definitely.” He nods, his messy ginger hair flopping around his ears. “But it’s your wedding day. You’re allowed to be too much. Speaking of.”

  He nods to my hand.

  “What, this?” I ask innocently. I show off my hand. Two matching engagement rings are stacked together on my ring finger. One diamond for each of my fiancés. I’m the luckiest girl alive.

  “That,” Oscar shakes his head. “They spoil you.”

  We’re in a room that I’ve decided is my bedroom, though it looks nothing like my old room at my parents’ place. But my dream logic takes over. White, wooden-paneled walls line the space, and a window nook fills the place with bright light.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Oscar asks. He has my sea-green eyes, always questioning.

  “Yes,” I tell him. “No more running. No more hiding. This is the life I want.”

  “I’m just glad I get to walk you down the aisle,” Oscar says and then half shrugs. “Well. Roll.”

  I laugh and take his hand in mine, linking our fingers. He’s so real, my brother. “Me too,” I whisper. I squeeze his hand in mine when—

  I hear a sick, gut-wrenching crunch.

  Two of his fingers have popped out of place and twist at a jarring angle over my hand. I gasp and pull away to help him, but his whole arm comes with me.

  The doll arm hangs limply from my hand. Oscar blinks at his empty sleeve, unfazed. “Oh,” he says simply. “That’s a bad look.”

  I open my mouth to scream out for help—someone help him, please—but no sound comes out. My throat closes and my voice only comes out in small, scratchy squeezes.

  Help! Save my brother! Please!

  27

  Ben

  Rory thrashes in her sleep.

  Her head swivels back and forth on the pillow. Her eyebrows knit in pain, her mouth open, and she emits squeaks and whimpers.

  I reach through the blue darkness and take her small shoulder in mine. “Rory,” I murmur. “Wake up.”

  Her whole body shivers. She’s panting like she’s run a marathon.

  Roland, on the other side of the king-size bed, sleeps like a log. Of course. A bloody dragon couldn’t wake sleeping beauty.

  “Rory,” I repeat and shake her now. “Open your eyes, love.”

  Her eyes fly open suddenly at my command. The whites of her eyes swim as her gaze flickers around. Panic. I squeeze her shoulder again, gently this time.

  “It’s all right,” I tell her. “It’s just a dream.”

  She sits up and splutters for breath. Her lungs sound hoarse. “I need…” she croaks.

  “Water?”

  She nods, holding her throat.

  “Come with me.”

  I link my hand in hers. She flinches at first, as though my touch frightens her, but then she lets me lead her through the dark bedroom, down the winding stairs, and into the kitchen. Moonlight pours through the tall windows, swathing everything in indigo blue. I flick on the artificial kitchen light, which changes the room to pale white.

  “Sit on the couch,” I tell her. Rory coughs and wheezes as she sits down.

  I pluck a glass out and fill it with water from the sink. I move to Rory and hand the glass to her.

  She tilts it to her lips. The glass shakes in her hand. Once she’s sipped, she sets it down and rasps, “Thank you.”

  “What do you need?” I’m on red alert. This isn’t a normal nightmare. Normal nightmares go away when the sleeper wakes up. This is leeching off her.

  Rory motions to herself. “It’s… nothing. Just having a… little… panic attack.” She screws her eyes shut and groans. “My heart is beating so fast. I just need to… mm. Slow it down. This happens all the time.”

  “Does it?”

  She cracks an eye open. “It used to. I haven’t… in a long time. I’ll be fine.”

  I don’t like this. I don’t like feeling helpless while the woman I love gasps and chokes inches away from me.

  “Maybe you can… take me in the car,” she rasps. “And we can drive. Just drive.”

  Her eyes are wild and unfocused, staring ahead. She’s looking for an exit.

  “Do you mind if I try something?” When I phrase it as a question, it sounds like she has a choice.

  She shakes her head. Her hand is stuck on her chest as though she can reach inside and physically slow the hammering of her heart. “Please,” she says.

  Our clothes are scatter
ed all around the estate. My belt is curled up on the floor from I can’t even remember when. I pick it up and stand over her. “Lift your hair,” I say.

  She looks at me like I’m crazy. I can’t blame her. She can barely breathe, and I’m going to choke her.

  “Do you trust me?” I ask.

  At that, it clicks. She obeys and lifts her hair from the back of her neck. I loop the belt around her throat and then slide one end through the buckle. It catches around her neck like a collar.

  “On the floor,” I demand.

  Rory shifts off the couch and gets to her hands and knees on the floor instead. No more protests from her. She’s obeying me instinctively.

  Good. This is right where I want her. “Sit, pet.”

  She plops her bum down. I crouch in front of her so I can better see her expression. Her gentle moon eyes melt me. I wrap the loose end of the belt around my fist and tighten it slightly. The buckle constricts her throat, and she gasps.

  “How does it feel?” I ask.

  “Tight.”

  “No, how do you feel? Confined?”

  “Yes.”

  “Scared?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Safe.”

  “You are safe.” I want to tell her that, over and over. You are safe, you are safe, you are safe. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.

  She seems to get it. She’s stopped panting. She’s stopped panicking. Instead, she’s submissive. Compliant.

  “My panic attack,” she notes, incredulous.

  “Yes. It is.”

  She looks at me like a child looks at a magician. Pure wonderment. “How did you know to do that?”

  “I saw it in your eyes,” I inform her. “When I first took you to the palace. And again, here. On your knees, licking my cum from Roland’s hand. You crave submission.”

  She looks lost for a second, and her gaze swims before refocusing on me. “You’re… really good at that.”

  “How long have you been having panic attacks?” I ask.

  We must look crazy—having quiet pillow talk on our knees in the den with my belt around her throat. It’s the only way I know how to communicate.