King Size: A Royal Bad Boy Romance

by Lexi Whitlow

  My hands drifted along her waist even as her lips brushed against mine. She was magnetic, that Julie of mine, and I felt my jeans tighten as my hands slowly drifted up her shirt. She pressed into me and bent her body backward, and I could feel her hard nipples underneath the cloth of her shirt while her lips trailed down my neck. We plummeted to her bed, nothing but limbs and fabrics flying in all sorts of directions, and I could smell the scent of lavender waft through the air.

  She wanted me as much as I wanted her, and I couldn’t wait to feel her silkiness on my tongue.

  Her hips were thick with the strength of riding horses all her life, and moved my body quickly downward towards her panty line and tugged away at the fabric. I slung her legs over my shoulders while my tongue drew itself along her the dark secret of her sex. She pulled my hair, trying to bring me closer and closer into her body, like she might lose me in that very instant, even though I was buried as close to her as possible.

  She shook and writhed underneath my hands as they trapped her on the bed, and strings of obscenities that fell from those innocent lips shocked even my ears.

  “Fuck, Axel.”

  “Please. Please don’t fucking stop. I’ll do anything.”

  Her breathless cries spurred me on, and I realized I’d be anything she wanted me to be. I’d wake her up with rolling orgasms and pin her to the wall when she needed to be set straight. I’d take her up on every promise she made while chasing her orgasmic high, and I’d ride her bucking body all the way into the sunset if it meant I could feel her strong legs shaking uncontrollably along the stubble of my cheeks.

  Her breathless comments antagonized my throbbing cock, and when I finally felt her fall over the edge, with her hands clutching my hair and her legs shaking around my head, I reached down and pulled my cock free from my boxers. It ached against the cool sheets of the bed, thick with the desire to feel her, and I reared back onto my heels and surveyed her trembling body before one word flew from my lips.

  “Anything?”

  Her half-hooded eyes connected with mine, and I gasped for air while her body slowly spiraled her back to earth. Out of all the women I’d ever been with, she was the only one who threw her entire being into sex, and it was addicting how powerful she could make me feel. Her earth-shattering orgasms always left her weak and pliable in my hands, and I knew exactly how I wanted her tonight.

  Exactly how I wanted her every night for the rest of my life.

  I laid myself down on her body and propped myself up on my hands, and my thick shaft slowly rubbed up and down her swollen and sensitive folds before I slowly slid into her. She met my eyes while her body trembled in my wake, with her milky skin that held a burning passion between her legs, and the flush that spread over her chest when I bottomed out into her tight core complimented the raging blue of her eyes.

  I thrust into her slowly, watching the frustration cascade over her features with a grin on my face. She was mine. Julie August was wholly and entirely mine, and I was never going to let her forget it. Our skin slapped together in the darkness of my dorm room, and my balls hit the crook of her ass when she wrapped her legs tightly around my waist. I lifted myself up onto my knees and unhooked her legs before I tossed them over my shoulders, and I could tell by the way her eyes widened that things were about to get interesting.

  I folded her in half and laid my body weight onto her hamstrings, trapping her underneath my body. I wanted her immobile, forced to take the pleasure I was drilling into her body while she raked her nails up and down my arms. Her dirty obscenities devolved into mindless drones while her jaw hung open, and I thrust my tongue between her sweet, pillowy lips and swallowed every single groan that wafted up from her stomach. I felt her fingernails raking down the muscles in my back, and my hips snapped against hers so hard the bed was knocking against the wall.

  She could draw any pattern she wanted with those nails, so long as it was my body she was drawing them on.

  “You’re mine,” I grunted. “And you’re beautiful.”

  “Fuck, Axel. Oh… yes. Right there. Right there. Right-”

  My hips stuttered just as her walls gave way to my cock. They fluttered around my dick, milking my body for everything I could give her, and I filled her core with the essence of myself. I choked her name into the nighttime air while our cap and gowns fluttered with the air conditioning on the floor, and the only thing I could think was how I wanted to do this.

  This was how I wanted to end every day for the rest of my days… buried inside of Julie as her body gave its control over to me.

  I could smell our scents entangling with one another while the sweat from our bodies dripped onto each other’s skin, and as she slid her legs from my shoulders, I watched her body shudder while I slowly pulled out from between her legs.

  My body felt naked when it wasn’t pressed against hers.

  I held her entire being close to me that night. We didn’t bother cleaning up, and we didn’t bother showering, we simply stared into each other’s eyes before I finally watched her fall asleep. We’d reached the end of the road of our childhood and were about to venture out into the cold world of adulthood, and I thought back to our graduation ceremony that morning and how proud I was when I heard them call her name.

  My Julie was nestled safely in my arms, and she had graduated college when no one else thought she would.

  But I woke up that morning to an empty bed, and she was nowhere to be found. No water was running, no breakfast was being begged for, and no lights were on in the dorm room. There wasn’t even a note scrawled out to give me any sort of inclination as to where she had run off to.

  And just like that, my Julie was gone. No rhyme, no reason, no explanation, and no apology. She took what she wanted, Julie gave what she could, and she left before sunrise.

  And she dumped my heart at the entrance to my dorm room before she’d left.

  Axel

  Axel - Chapter Two

  I saw the angry bull off to my side as I stood on the railing of the cage. The barrel men were lined along the opposite wall, and I couldn’t help but feel a tremor begin in my legs. I took a few deeps breaths to slow my breathing, but I couldn’t help but get angry at the nerves I was feeling. It had been a few years since I’d ridden a bull, but it’s like riding a fucking bike: you just get back up there and do it. There ain’t no practicing or trial runs or nothing like that, you just hop up, jump on, and feel the bull underneath your legs.

  See, that’s the thing about bull riding: everyone always thinks you gotta tame the bull. Somehow control its rage. But you can’t control the rage of a bull any more than you can control the path of a tornado: it just takes off, and all you can do is protect yourself and move your body in contrary motion to how the bull is bucking. I picked my eyes up and looked around the stadium, and I realized every single seat was full. Sure, I’d been advertised a bit around town with getting back into the swing of things, but I didn’t think this many people would show up just to watch the ride.

  It calmed my nerves a bit, seeing all them out there.

  I love performing for a crowd. Yeah, sure, I got myself my own ranch and all, but there ain’t nothing like riding for a crowd. Making people smile has always been a thing I’ve enjoyed, and if I can make them smile while doing something that makes me smile, then even better.

  “Mr. Rawlings? Time to go.”

  One thing I’ve always prided myself in was, I never had a re-ride. Even if I knew something had gone wrong with the equipment, I always knew I could hang on. I never needed the barrel men to dig me outta trouble, and I always felt confident at the draws before the competition. Bull riding ain’t ever about the animal you get. It’s always about how you can cope with the situation handed to you for eight solid seconds.

  Don’t sound like much time, but when that rough stock drops for the first time and that bull takes off, it sure as hell begins to feel like a lot of time.

  Of course, the draw this time around for my
homecoming ride, they had to give me the bull that almost killed its last rider. When any rough stock ends up wounding or killing its rider, there’s usually some sort of investigation that happens to determine whether the animal should be retired or not. After this bull’s investigation, they decided that the rider didn’t do everything he could’ve to roll right off the bull, and it put his body in the bull’s way.

  I had to keep that in mind when finally rolling off this bull after my ride.

  I took a deep breath and hopped onto the bull, and I felt his muscles start to twitch beneath my legs. When I did not get off his back, he began flinging me around in the pin, and I adjusted my body weight not to slide off. That usually frightens even the best of bull riders, but to me, it’s a little sneak peek into what’s to come… a little practice run to see how the bull will move. I can tell a lot about a bull by those preliminary shakes in the cage: where it likes to throw its weight, which hooves are more dominant, whether the bulls likes to rear backward or forwards. It’s like a little cheat sheet for the next eight seconds.

  My name was announced over the intercom, and the crowd went wild, and I wrung my hand in the rope before I set myself. My shoulders were back, my head was high, and I watched the assistant open the gate before the bull I was riding shot outta the cage like a piston in a car. He leapt forward, tossing me with him, and I shifted my weight just before he dodged to the right.

  I kept my breath even with his kicks, making sure never to try and take in a breath while he was rearing up on his haunches, and when he dropped his front shoulders down to the ground, I flung my weight back as far as I could. This bull was volatile; I’d give him that. Most bulls I rode kept their weight centered while they jumped in the air and bent their backs out, but this bull was dropping every side of him into the ground to try and get me off.

  But just as he was out of control, I was in control, and I had to relinquish the muscle tension in my arms and legs in favor of contracting my core and making sure my torso stayed as stable as it could.

  With every breath I took, I counted the seconds up. My last ride had been just shy of eight seconds, and I was determined to go the full eight. My tan rawhide hat went flying through the stadium, and I saw it hit the ground beside me. But, so did the bull, and when he sharply turned his body, I felt my entire ass slide off to the right.

  I tugged at the rope as far as I could, but I couldn’t get my body back up on the back of that thing. His hooves stomped my hat, and I felt my chaps riding off to the side, and part of me began to panic because I just knew I was about to fall. The clock was only at four seconds, and I had to find a way to hang on for another four while this bull dropped and dodged to try and get me off.

  But I wasn’t losing to him today.

  I closed my eyes and felt the bull’s muscles shift dominance underneath my legs, and when his hind legs made contact with the ground I swung my torso back to the left, and it forced the saddle to slide back into place. I heard the crowd go wild before the bull lunged forward, and when my nose connected with his back, I heard a large gasp from the crowd. My nose ached, and my body felt like it was being pulled joint by joint, but when I caught a glimpse of the clock, I realized we’d just passed six seconds.

  Two more to go, and I’d officially beat my own record.

  My hand was starting to swell, and I was pretty sure I’d dislocated one of my fingers, and as my grip began to slip I clenched my thighs around the bull’s strong back, and he didn’t like that one bit. He flung himself around in a circle, making my body slowly lean off to the side again, and just when I thought my hand was going to give way and throw me to the mercy of this bull’s hooves, I heard that telltale air horn that every bull rider loves to hear.

  I’d made it the full eight seconds.

  I loosened my grip from the rope, and the bull felt me shift. The barrelmen came running out to capture the bull’s attention, and with a swift kick of his back legs, I went flying through the air. I tucked my head and protected my neck, trying to get a good idea of where the ground was before I came down on it, and when I rolled my body away from the bull I heard the stamping hooves of the pickup men.

  But then, the crowd began to scream, and I opened my eyes and saw the bull’s hooves hovering right above my face.

  I threw my body off to the right and rolled out from underneath him just as his legs came down where my neck would’ve been, and I felt someone grab my arms and drag me off to the side before I could scramble to my feet. That bull had come after me and almost crushed my skull, and I knew as I stood up and looked that bull in his eyes that I would be the last person that ever rode it. If it wasn’t clear with the last rider that the bull had intentions of hurting us, it was very clear now.

  “You alright, Mr. Rawlings!?” the barrelman yelled.

  The crowd was roaring and chanting my name, and I panned my gaze around before I jogged out of the ring. My heart was racing, and my hand was aching, but when I hopped the fence, I turned towards the countdown clock one last time before I smiled and shook my head.

  8.4 seconds.

  I’d stayed on that damned bull for 8.4 seconds.

  The barrelman brought me my crushed rawhide hat, and I hooked my legs into the large pen fence before I dusted it off. I put it back on my head, saluted the crowd, and hopped back down before I started towards the back of the stadium.

  And the crowd chanted my name until I got back to my trailer.

  Axel

  Axel - Chapter Three

  “Congratulations, Axel!”

  “You broke your record; how does that feel!?”

  “Is this your official declaration of coming back to the sport, Axel!?”

  “That was a hell of a ride, buddy. Way to go.”

  The people were chanting behind me in the stadium as I walked through the white hallways of the horse stalls and bullpens, and every time I rounded a corner someone wanted to shake my hand. People were thrusting microphones in my face and tape recorders to my mouth, all wanting a statement that confirmed for them that I was coming back to bull riding full time.

  But I had no intentions of coming back to the sport full time. I just needed a ride every so often to get my rush of adrenaline.

  “Mr. Axel!? Is it true?! Are you back!?”

  That’s the thing with the media: if you don’t give them an answer, they just make up one to get you to confirm or deny. I enjoyed owning the animals I did, especially the horses and bulls. I had a couple of dogs that helped me run around and field the few chickens I had, but my main animals were the rough stock for the exact rodeos I used to ride in. I’d had a few close calls in my time, and although it never stopped me from riding, I also knew that I didn’t wanna die with the last thing I saw was some bull’s balls in my face.

  Who the hell wants to die with balls in their face?

  So, I took to raising rough stock and training new riders. I took on horse riders and bull riders, and trained them on the same rough stock they would then use in the rodeos and roping contests. Some people tried to challenge and say that was illegal, like giving a member of a baseball team the chance to play with their competitors before the actual game. But all I did to navigate around that was enter in different livestock animals than the ones they trained on during the off-season.

  Problem solved, and I got to keep my lucrative business.

  I didn’t make a ton, but I made enough to keep myself and the ranch afloat. A man like me doesn’t need a fancy vacation or nice-looking clothes all the time. Who the hell is gonna feed the chickens in a three-piece suit?

  I looked at the woman staring up at me, with her blonde hair and her blue eyes, and all of a sudden, I wanted to get back my trailer.

  “Well? Are you, Mr. Rawlings!?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am. I ain’t coming back to the rodeo. Just wanted to remember what it felt like to be in the ring again.”

  “Will you ever let us see you ride again?” another reporter asked.

 
“Will you ever reconsider!?” the blonde woman asked. Her skin was silky smooth, like ice cream in a milkshake, and her eyes burned with the ferocity of a dedicated fan. She reminded me of someone I wanted to forget, and suddenly I felt an anger surge within my gut.

  “I’m happy training and owning my animals. If you’ll excuse me, ma’am.”

  I turned my back on her and walked away as memories of that night flashed behind my eyes. Memories of Julie tangled up in my sheets and the sounds our skin made brushing against one another. Memories of the way her eyes rolled into the back of her head and how her wet, silky pussy felt tightening around my cock. The night before she left me was the first night I’d really felt like I’d understood how emotions played into sex, and I knew I’d want to bury myself into her for the rest of my days if she’d let me.

  I sighed a deep breath of relief when my trailer came into view, and I ripped the door open before I leaped up and pulled it closed behind me. The sounds of the stadium were swallowed by the metal frame of the moving home, and I flopped myself down onto the couch before I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. Even today, I could still conjure the way her legs felt shaking around my head, and it made my vision tremble just thinking about it. I groaned and put my elbows on my knees and started my deep breaths, trying to rid myself of the anger in the pit of my stomach as well as the tension growing behind my pants.

  It was enraging, how the memory of her could shake me to my core while still churning the fire in my gut.

  The truth was there had been no one like her since. Her big, bold eyes carried a certain independence that every farm girl around here seemed to carry, but her long blonde hair and her apple cheeks always lent her a face that seemed a bit younger than she really was. She had all the curves a farm girl developed: thick muscular thighs from riding horses bareback, a strong back and broad shoulders from throwing hay on the backs of trucks, and a tapered waist from twisting and heaving an ax through the air before bringing it down onto part of the trunk of a tree.