Sold to the King

by Falcone, Carmen

  Of course. In fact, she was surprised he’d found time to see her at all. “I totally understand. Are you sure you want me to go?” She sucked in a breath, then released it, afraid she’d seem too eager to skip the event. She could use the time to snoop around more deserted areas of the castle.

  “It’ll be strange if you’re a royal guest and don’t go to a historic event such as this one.”

  “Alright.”

  He scratched his chin. “Also, my mom will be attending. She can be…troublesome.”

  She’d heard Candace talking about Queen Regent Kesia’s beauty and poise. Izzy hadn’t made much of the information. After all, what would she have to do with Nassor’s mother? This wasn’t a routine meet-your-boyfriend’s-mom situation. “Does she know about me?”

  “I told her you’re a friend from the U.S. She doesn’t need to know anything else.”

  “Ditto.”

  “She wants me to get married sometime this year, and even though she promised me she’d wait until you leave to start her ridiculous matchmaking attempts…something in my gut tells me she might use the coronation as a good opportunity.”

  Disappointment sagged her shoulders for a nanosecond. Quickly, she squared them again, slapping on a half smile she hoped would save face. “So your future wife might be in attendance.”

  “Wives.”

  Wives. Her heart shrank to the size of a sad, lonely pearl. Acid spread into her bloodstream, reminding her exactly of who Nassor was—a privileged man who had the opportunity to change the lives of many, to break from a secular cultural tradition, and yet, he didn’t. He wouldn’t. “Wives. Yes, that makes sense. Why settle for just one,” she said. “How many are we talking about? Seven? Eight?”

  He rubbed his forehead. “Four or five.”

  “Great. Well, again, I can say I have a headache or a bad cold tomorrow and simply not go. I’d hate to make things awkward for you and the nice ladies lining up for a long-lasting marriage.”

  The minute each word fled from her lips, she regretted them. Yet, she glanced at him with what she could swear was her best resting bitch face. Her pulse throbbed—even if confronting him about his impending marriage to several women was none of her business.

  “If you’re a history teacher, you should know polygamy is common in many cultures and it’s a tradition. Why are you so judgmental?” He stared into her eyes, challenging her.

  She folded her arms over her chest. Even though the bubbles and jets prevented him from seeing her naked, she hated how vulnerable her situation made her. “I know a lot about ancient history. Doesn’t mean I agree with every war or tradition I read. I have a mind of my own.”

  He sighed. “By marrying four or five women, I’ll give them the title of queens. They will have a life of protection and luxury forever.”

  Protection? A thread of anger coursed through her. What kind of protection had her stepmother received? None. Because she’d been a common woman and worse, a foreigner. Just like me, if they discover my identity and goal. “Which means nothing, because if you die, they can’t rule. It has to be your future son. So they’re powerless objects of decoration. Trophy wives.”

  He opened his mouth, then hesitated for a second and ran his fingers down his face. “You’re very knowledgeable of my customs for someone who just got here.”

  A pang of panic moved through her. Am I paranoid because I’m guilty, or is he up to something? “I fit a visit to the castle lobby between my beauty appointments and read some brochures.”

  He lifted his eyebrow. “I doubt they said those things.”

  “I’m good at reading between the lines.”

  “You’re good at a lot of things,” he said in a sexy tone that sent her hormones into overdrive. When she’d sucked him, she’d enjoyed the power of making him come. He’d exploded in her mouth, and she’d never forget the look of satisfaction in his eyes when she’d swallow his salty cum.

  Shivers raced down her spine, and instinctively, she licked her lips. Ever since the previous night, he hadn’t screwed her. She’d appreciated the break to recover physically from their encounter, but her body throbbed, her clit swollen and achy. “What are the specifics of having four wives, anyway? If they were here, for instance, would one of them suck you while the others bathed you?”

  A delicious smile formed on his lips. “Why do you care, my dirty girl? Are you jealous?”

  She snorted, waving him off. “Me? Jealous? Please.”

  He moved closer, flecks of silver flashing in his eyes. “Why such interest?”

  “Well, because I’m baffled at how you can handle four partners at the same time. That’s it, a purely pragmatic curiosity,” she said, telling herself more than him.

  He touched her elbow, propping her to turn around so her back touched his front. “Right now, my love, the only one I’m interested in handling is you,” he whispered near her ear, and she melted into his embrace from behind.

  He moved them closer to the edge of the whirlpool. She closed her eyes, mentally telling herself to push him away and teach him a lesson. When she opened them, she faced their reflection in the large mirror in front of them.

  His black skin glistened against hers, sparkling like a dark diamond. He deposited a kiss on her shoulder, loosening her muscles. When he lifted his gaze and saw hers in the mirror, she clenched her stomach. The look of pure desire in his eyes lit a fire in her.

  “You’re so beautiful, Izzy.”

  I was thinking the same thing about you. He cupped her breasts, possessively, as if he had complete ownership over her body. She swallowed, unable to look away from the mirror. Who was the woman who glanced back at her? Was she a traitor of the kingdom, or was she betraying herself by enjoying this…affair so much? Craving more. Craving him.

  He parted her legs with his, and his impressive hard-on poked into her skin. She bucked, surprised at her own quick reaction to him. A pearly cream dripped from her folds, her inner walls swelling. Without her permission, her entire system readied for his claim on her. He nipped the outer shell of her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine and raising the little hairs at the back of her neck. Damn.

  He continued to fondle her breast with one hand, while sliding the other much farther south. When he brushed his palm over her sex, she bit the inside of her cheek, bracing herself for the tsunami of emotions about to flood her. Did this happen every time people screwed? She parted her lips and almost asked him, but hesitated. He probably would say something nice and flattering, and likely far from the truth. Because, soon she’d leave his life, and he’d choose other women to be with him. He wouldn’t pick her.

  “What’s in your head, Izzy?” he whispered, his tone demanding.

  She shook her head, and when she peered at their reflection, she understood what he’d meant. The expression of confusion in her face plus the stiffness of her shoulders must have clued him in. He stood behind her, sexy as sin, but apparently adamant on getting an answer. He rested his hand on her pussy, not moving.

  “It’s…pretty intense sometimes when you touch me. That’s what I was thinking about.”

  “Good. So we’ll keep working on your sex talk.”

  “Don’t give me a challenge. I can’t resist those.”

  “I’d be disappointed if you did.”

  At last, he scissored her folds with his fingers, causing a ball of heat to travel through her, awakening her every sense. She moaned, loving how he teased her, playing with her, making her even wetter. She touched the side of his leg, his strong, muscular leg, letting her hand rest on his skin. Claiming him as hers.

  Mine? She rolled her eyes at the ridiculous idea.

  He swatted her ass, and she yelped. “You were thinking again.”

  The touch of his hand still tingled her ass. An awareness stirred inside, something new and…good. Her nipples ti
ghtened, and she swallowed a lump of confusion. How could anyone…like this type of treatment?

  “I want you to be in the moment, Izzy. Won’t work if you’re not with me.”

  “Yes, but spanking?”

  He lifted her off her feet, spinning her into the same position as earlier. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it. It’s okay to let someone else be in charge.”

  Groaning, he pressed his hand on the small of her back, coaxing her to lower herself farther and lean onto the edge of the tub. He caressed her buttocks, where he’d swatted, kneading her flesh. Lust grew within her, and she undulated her hips, finding it harder to keep still.

  He smacked her ass again, this time harder than before, causing a hot sting to spread across her butt.

  “I didn’t do anything,” she hissed out, drunk on arousal.

  “This is still for not giving me the attention I deserve,” he said, and delivered another swat on her, and this time, her flesh burned immediately. Awareness traveled through her, sizzling her nerve endings. “And for fun,” he said, before swatting her again.

  Fuck. What the hell did she get herself into?

  He ran his finger down her back, outlining her spine. “You have the sexiest ass,” he said, circling her dimples. “With time, I’ll play with it more.”

  Play with it? She sucked in a breath, and he must have sensed her apprehension, for he slid his hands past her ass and closer to her drenching cunt. She melted, and when he thrust two fingers into her, her limbs loosened, and she had to fight not to slide down the tub. “Nassor.”

  “What?” he asked, making a circular motion. “Tell me,” he demanded, then stopped moving his fingers inside her.

  “Fuck me. Oh God, please.”

  “Like this?” He withdrew his fingers, then thrust them hard, adding a third digit.

  “Yes, but…I want your cock,” she said, grinding into his hand, eager to take some of the pressure off.

  He removed his fingers abruptly, and she parted her lips to speak, but he quickly plunged his cock inside her, so hard a thread of pain traveled through her. She inhaled, her inner walls clinging to him, and he caressed her hair, massaging her scalp, silently soothing her. Or maybe that had been his intent, but to feel his strong hands on her scalp sent thrills down her body.

  He growled, finally moving inside her. The discomfort dissipated, and a need for more drove her to rock her hips into him. “That’s my girl,” he said, his accent so pronounced it took her a few seconds to understand him. “Ready for some fucking.”

  He pulled her hair, provoking goose bumps all over her skin. She felt another coat of her cream sliding down her folds, helping her welcome his massive dick each time it retreated and returned.

  She clenched the edges of the tub as loud moans escaped her. “God. You’re making me so hot.”

  He lowered his hands to her shoulders, cupping them, then glided his hands down her waist. “You are, too, baby. You were made for this.” He withdrew his cock and slammed all the way to her hilt. “You were made for me.”

  Made for him… The words danced and spiraled in her brain like some old-fashioned waltz. Sweat glistened on her face, her palms, so much so that she almost lost the grip of the tub. Each time he rammed into her, the water around them sloshed out of the tub. She didn’t care.

  Her vision dimmed, and she focused on bucking her hips to him, receiving more of his man meat inside her. Soon, the pressure in her core rocketed through her, and she could no longer take it. She contracted for one beat, then, her heart hammering in her ears, she came. Wave after wave of pleasure washed through her, and she welcomed them, each one.

  “Fuck yeah.” He withdrew from her then plunged into her pussy one more time, deeper than he’d ever been. She mellowed, the mix of pleasure and pain making her lightheaded. And he emptied himself, spurts of hot load filling her.

  She let her head fall on the edge, barely registering the kiss he planted on her shoulder. Her body still trembled. A body, according to him, made for this. Made for him.

  Apprehension clogged her throat. Was this kind of romantic nonsense what convinced Mary to travel so far for love? To hear nice words even if they were meaningless? No. She cleared her throat. Mary had believed in them.

  I can’t afford to make the same mistake.

  Chapter Six

  Nassor tilted the crown on his head, feeling every ounce of the pure gold with encrusted precious stones.

  He scanned the large crowd, many of whom had camped outside the palace for a day or so to catch a glimpse of the new king. The collar of the red ceremonial robe tightened around his neck, and he reached for it, discreetly, tugging just enough for a long exhale.

  All those people counted on him to give them a better future. His throat thickened, his shoulders tightening with the weight of new responsibilities. Many cameras flashed at him, and he gave them a reassuring smile. Inside, he mourned the death of his private life as a man, but outside he had to celebrate his new position as king.

  The entire day had been hectic, packed with a long list of rituals and activities. Dignitaries and nobility from all over the world attended the event and vied for his attention, calling his name and waving at every opportunity.

  His uncle had made his announcement brief and gave him his blessing.

  For the evening festivities, most attendees consisted of international guests and VIPs.

  After a well-known local band started playing music, he sighed, searching for Izzy in the crowd. When he found her, sitting in the third row, peering at him, the air left the room. His body was tired, and a silly sensation, warm and carefree, swirled around him. He wished he could bypass all the people whose hands he needed to shake and run to her and forgo the dancing in the ballroom next door.

  His mother gently nudged his elbow. “Honey. Please meet Morowa Peete.”

  He cocked his head to find a stunning woman next to his mother. He’d seen her a couple of times at other events, always leaving a trail of admirers behind. Tall and slim, with a gorgeous dark complexion and braided hair, Morowa’s beauty stopped men in their tracks. Tonight, plenty of jewelry and an over-the-top golden dress adorned her. “Hello. Nice to see you.”

  She bowed to him, then flashed him a smile. “Thank you for having me for the dance. Congratulations, my king,” she said. “A new day begins.”

  “Thank you.”

  “A new day indeed,” his mother said, blinking at Morowa.

  Jesus. Did his mother have to be so obvious?

  “I hope you’ll give me the pleasure of a dance later,” Morowa said.

  Annoyance pulsed in his throat, but he managed to say evenly, “You’re too kind.” As a new king without a wife, he could dance with several women, to at least show the crowd he intended on marrying soon.

  Morowa flashed him another winning smile then sashayed away, and the line kept moving.

  He gave his mother a sideways glance. “I told you no matchmaking yet.”

  She angled closer. “This was a simple coincidence. Of course I’m not seeking people out, but you’re naive if you think women won’t pursue the opportunity now you’re a king.”

  “Which doesn’t mean—”

  Kesia lifted her hand to urge him to let her continue. “You don’t have to take any of them on dates. Just be cordial. The American girl will go home, but your life is here, my dear.”

  He touched his collar, pulling at it, wishing he could just rip the fucking robe off and be comfortable for once. For the next several minutes he shook hands and small talked with the attendees. When Izzy crossed his path, his heart beat quickly, and that new sensation washed over him again. He bit back a smile. What the hell was happening to him?

  At thirty years old, he was no longer naive enough to be smitten, particularly in these circumstances.

  “Your Majesty,” she said, wit
h a twinkle in her eyes. “You handled yourself very well. I’m sure you’ll handle the country in the same fashion.” She emphasized the word he’d used before they made love the previous night.

  The robe tightened around him some more. “Which is?”

  A shade of red stained her cheeks, and he had to control himself not to stroke them. The tips of his fingers tingled with the need for a touch, but he willed it away. One careless moment and people would suspect something—no one expected him to be celibate before his marriage, but Izzy stuck out in the crowd.

  Her gaze slid down to his lips. “With passion and energy.”

  His heart drummed in his chest, muffling the sounds around them. A quick glance to his mother’s side showed her laughing at something the next woman in line told her. Probably making small talk so people wouldn’t notice how much longer this greeting was taking. Yet he couldn’t let Izzy go. Not yet. “I can think of no other way to handle a country.”

  She took a step toward him, and he caught a whiff of her fresh and feminine scent. “I guess it depends on the issue. Some are quick and urgent. Others…”

  He searched her eyes with his. “Languorous and long-lasting.”

  She parted her lips, and he had to leash every thread of control not to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. “Yes.”

  “Son?” His mother’s voice spilled chilly water into their hot exchange, extinguishing the fiery energy between them. “Aren’t you going to finally introduce me to your guest?”

  He stretched to his full height. “Of course. Mother, this is Izzy Lima, a dear friend. Izzy, meet Queen Regent Kesia.”

  “It’s an honor to meet you,” Izzy said, stretching out her hand and not bowing like others would. What did he expect? She wasn’t from here—her customs were different, and if he remembered this maybe he wouldn’t get hurt in the end.

  “Thank you,” his mother said, shaking her hand. “My son said good things about you. Maybe we can meet for lunch sometime.”

  Izzy blinked, probably surprised, then acquiesced. “Of course. I’d love to have lunch with you.”