Page 59 of Broken Desires
“It would, wouldn’t it?” He raises his hand, and instead of helping me, he reaches for the shoulders of my dress and pulls it down, revealing my breasts to his hungry eyes. “And yet I won’t help. You need to earn the royal cock.”
I let out a surprised laugh. It’s not a side of him I’m really familiar with, but I must admit I’m not mad at it. “How royal of you.”
“Isn’t it?” He trails his fingers over my breast and pinches my nipple, sending a zing of pleasurable pain all the way to my core, causing more wetness to trickle down my legs.
“Enough,” I mutter, so frustrated now that I pop one of his buttons, but finally, his thick, hard cock is out. I look up at him as I squeeze, and I’m rewarded by a moan that makes his whole chest vibrate.
I place him at my entrance and slide down slowly, squeezing him with every inch, wanting to torture him as much as he tortured me.
I start moving up and down very slowly, almost painfully so, as I lean down and kiss him. He raises a hand and fists my hair, pulling my head closer to him so he can deepen the kiss and explore my mouth in the sensual way he always does.
And then the craziness of the situation falls on me. I’m having sex with a king on his throne. Well, that’s one version of it. I’m, first and foremost, having sex with the man I love.
I break the kiss when I’m fully seated on his cock again. “I love you, King Alexander the Third.”
I see his barely hanging control snap, and he grips my hips, taking control of the pace, which I’m happy to give him. He holds me tightly in a way that’s going to leave bruises on my skin, and I am not mad about it. I like having his marks on me. He pulls me up and pushes me down again, raising his hips, fucking me hard. I let out a loud mewl, uncaring if we can be heard as he keeps increasing his pace, and all I can feel is him—his huge cock in me, his mouth on my breast, his tongue lapping on my skin like a starved man. I close my eyes, resting one hand on his chest, and reach between our rocking bodies, touching my swollen clit as his thrusts turn more erratic, knowing he is only seconds from coming.
As soon as my fingers brush against my clit, I come, tightening my walls against his length so much I can feel every vein and every ridge. Suddenly, I feel the rumble in his chest, and I know he’s coming, calling my name.
Collapsing into the comfort of his embrace, I let the intensity of the moment wash over me, savoring the closeness. His scent envelops me—a mixture of warmth and a hint of something uniquely him, a reminder of all the reasons I’ve fallen so hard.
As he speaks, the vibration of his voice against my skin prompts me to lift my gaze to meet his. The depth of emotion reflected in his eyes nearly overwhelms me—it’s filled with tenderness, vulnerability, and something fiercely determined.
“Stay.” He says before brushing his lips against mine, pulling me even closer, if that’s possible.
I laugh. “I don’t think I could move even if I tried.”
He smiles then—it’s like he’s won some silent victory. “No, I mean stay in Copenhagen with me.”
His words hang in the air, heavy with implication and desire. The suggestion, so unexpected, sends my mind reeling. “Oh…” is all I manage, my heart racing at the prospect.
“The universities here are excellent, comparable, if not better, than Silverbrook. I need you, Nessa, not just in moments stolen between duties and quick trips, but here with me, as a constant presence in my life.”
His words hit me hard, full of truth and need. Being this essential to him, especially after feeling like an outcast in my own family, who always seemed to hide me away or see me as a problem, it’s both scary and thrilling. Starting something new here, in a place that’s steeped in history but still has room for us, sounds really appealing.
Thinking about it—really letting myself imagine staying, being a part of his life in a big, everyday kind of way—it’s huge.
I’m lost in thought for what feels like ages, and I can tell he notices—the hopeful look in his eyes dims slightly. Gently, he reaches out, his hand brushing my cheek in a comforting gesture.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” he says, trying to ease the pressure. “I get it. It’s a huge thing to consider, and I’m not just expecting you to drop everything and stay. You’ve got your life back home, things to sort out. But… I hope you’ll think about coming back here. To me.”
“I need to think about it,” I manage to say, feeling a whirlwind of emotions. This is all moving so fast, and it feels a bit wild to even be considering such a life-changing move. Plus, there are a ton of questions bubbling up inside me, questions that seem awkward to ask right now when his softened cock is still inside of me.
He leans in, planting a soft kiss on my lips, a gentle reminder of the connection between us. “Of course, take your time. And, uh, I should probably go get ready for the official dinner tonight. Someone made a bit of a mess,” he teases, lightening the mood.
I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, I’d say we both did.”
I raise my hips now that my legs are steadier and he puts himself back in his pants before getting a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping up the mess between my legs.
I reach for his wrist. “No, it’s okay; I can do it.”
“You can,” he agrees, “but I consider it my royal duty.”
I let him care for me gently, my heart beating so fast it’s almost painful. He helps me up, and I sway a little.
“Let me walk you to your bedroom,” he says, giving me his arm.
“People will talk,” I whisper, knowing very well how we look. The afterglow of a mind-blowing orgasm will not be missed.