WHAT A QUEEN WANTS

Bella Andre

Chapter One

Elizabeth walked down the stone hallway, lit by green and blue swirled glass sconces. Her thoughts were dark and heavy and her beautiful face bore faint lines of worry. She was an unusually stunning woman—her hair a natural strawberry-blonde, her eyes a vivid, startling blue—but on days like today when she was troubled by news from her staff, she felt decades older than her thirty years.

Many times she had selfishly wished that she had been born into a normal family, like anyone else. As a child, she had daydreamed about attending school with other children. But instead of having fun with playmates her same age, instead of playing leap-frog and jump-rope, she had watched them with envy from her window high above the fields as they ran after dogs, swam in streams, and rode horses over the mountains.

As she grew older, Elizabeth began to wish for nothing more than the power to do whatever she wanted to.

Of course, Elizabeth understood that the Queen of Magonia could not be permitted to live such a normal existence, lest the country be left without a ruler. Her parents had died when she was five years old, in a plane crash in the mountains, and so the throne had passed on to her. Elizabeth's earliest memory was of the chief counselor instructing her not to cry upon hearing the news of her parents' deaths.

She learned the lesson well: a royal must never show emotion, regardless of how frightening the situation might be.

Her heart beat in time to the click-clack of her blood-red stiletto heels on the cold stone floor. She wrapped her slender arms around her shoulders and shivered slightly. She was thankful that the electricians had finally figured out how to install central heating in the ancient castle, after years of having to wrap her body in thick furs, even in the summer. Right now, she looked forward to a bath, hoping the warm water would soothe the tired and aching muscles around her neck and shoulders.

Elizabeth stared blankly out the small hall window, down to the gardens below. Something inside her stirred as she spotted a young couple kissing passionately. Firmly, she tamped down on her reaction, working to convince herself that she wasn't the least bit interested in having a romantic relationship.

Unfortunately, she admitted with a small sigh as she turned away from the window, she was having a harder and harder time lying to herself as she grew older. Sure, her hormones were starting to scream for a husband and babies, but Elizabeth was smart enough to realize that at the core of her longings was the one thing she was convinced she would never be able to have.

Love.

Finally arriving at the door to her private suite, she opened it and walked into the foyer. The room was pitch-black—she couldn't see even six inches in front of her face—and Elizabeth assumed that one of the maids must have recently closed her thick red velvet drapes. She shut the door behind her and flicked her finger over the light switch beside the door.

Nothing happened.

“Damn it,” she cursed softly, wishing for the hundredth time that she didn't have to live in a drafty old castle with outdated wiring. What she wouldn't give to live in one of those new houses that she admired in the pages of Architectural Digest. If she had her way, she'd live in a house entirely made of glass and wood, with not the slightest bit of stone in sight. She was standing in the dark, thinking about which state-of-the-art residential electronic devices she'd install throughout her dream house, when she heard a small noise.

Her heart began to pound beneath her ivory silk sheath and red Chanel jacket. “Is someone there?” she asked, her voice tentative and breathy.

When there was no response, Elizabeth shook her head and chuckled slightly. Of course there was no one else in the room with her. It was just her overactive imagination. It would be impossible for anyone to get past the two huge guards posted at the end of the hallway that led to her private quarters.

She set down her briefcase on the floor and carefully began to make her way into the front sitting room. All she needed to do was open the drapes and then the pitch-black room would be brilliantly illuminated by the sun.

She took several slow steps forward, past the wall and entry table that separated the foyer from the sitting room, feeling her way by running her fingers along the smooth, cold cherry table until she again made contact with the pitted stone archway. Reaching out her hands in front of her, she walked through the opening in the four-foot thick rock walls and into the sitting room.

Waving her hands slowly in front and then beside her body, she crept further into the room, the sharp points of her heels vibrating loudly against the smooth stone floor.

She was just about to skirt around the spot where she knew the antique sofa sat when a large, calloused hand gripped her wrist. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her heart in her throat.

She heard the counselor's voice in her head: A royal must never show fear. Never! Struggling to regain her composure, Elizabeth licked her lush red lips. She was suddenly thankful that the room was pitch-black—otherwise the perpetrator would have seen her alarm.

“What do you want?” she said sharply as she tried to pull her arm out of the man's steely grip.

But instead of a response, a second man gripped her other wrist, stretching her arms open wide.

“No!” she cried, trying to fight the men, but her struggles were useless. She heard a third man approach her and nearly screamed as his hand slipped into the front of her silk sheath and then ripped the sheer fabric from her body.

Her nipples were cold and stiff with fright in the cool, dark room. The edges of her short wool coat swung and scraped against her generous breasts, making them grow tighter.

Determined not to give in to her fear, she said, “What do you want from me?” hoping none of the men could hear the slight tremble behind her tough words.

Apart from the sound of her ragged breathing, the room was still and silent, until the man in front answered her question by roughly stripping her slip from her hips and ripping off her wispy silk thong in one fell swoop. Dropping between her legs, he ran one thick finger over her smooth, hairless pussy and then forced open her lips with both hands, wasting no time in grinding his face into her cunt.

Elizabeth tried to struggle against his bodily onslaught, but the other two men held her wrists so tightly, all she succeeded in doing was giving the man between her legs better access to her vagina.

His tongue had found her clit and he had begun to lick it in a lazy, circular motion. Against her will, Elizabeth found her hips swaying in the same pattern as his tongue, and she couldn't stop the moisture from seeping onto the man's tongue.

He slipped one large, rough, long finger into her tight pussy and a moan escaped from between her lips. Her sound of pleasure echoed off of the stone walls of her sitting room and reminded her that she had to fight to get away from these men.

Her kingdom depended on her escape and survival.

If they kidnapped her for their sexual pleasure, her country would fall into disarray. She struggled in earnest again, but even though she worked out with a personal trainer two hours a day, seven days a week, in a state-of-the-art gym, her captors were far stronger than she could ever be.

The man between her legs began to suck her swollen clit into his mouth, and increased his onslaught by dipping another finger in and out of her wet, increasingly slippery, needy passage.

And then, suddenly, her wrists were freed. But before she could react, before she could break away from the mouth sucking so urgently at her pussy, her jacket was ripped from her body.

Elizabeth now stood completely naked in her red stiletto heels. Her arms were held firmly behind her back by one of the men, forcing her large breasts out in front of her.

No matter how she tried to ignore the sensations pouring through her body, Elizabeth couldn't resist the intense pleasure being given to her by the man kneeling between her legs. He was lapping and sucking at her swollen labia with such intensity, the next time his tongue slid across her clit and then pushed hard and pointy into her cunt, her knees weakened. Unable to stop herself from wanting more, she leaned part of her body weight onto the man's mouth. His teeth ground against her as his lips sucked greedily at her clit.

The coarse skin of another man's hands pushed the huge, smooth globes of her breasts together and Elizabeth waited feverishly for her nipples to be squeezed and touched. Even though it was wrong, even though these men were intruders into her kingdom, they had done nothing but bring her pleasure thus far. Could she trust them?

All thoughts of mistrust or fear or escape fled her mind when one of the men rolled her nipples between his fingers with just the right pressure to even further inflame her body.

“Please!” she begged as she rubbed her breasts into the hands that held them. “Suck them!” Quickly answering her command, a hot tongue found her and began to lick first one hard point and then the other.

Elizabeth ground her pussy into the tongue of the man on the floor. “Oh yes. Oh god, yes,” she groaned as her tits were sucked and pulled in the same rhythm that two wide fingers slid in and out of her engorged lips. She clenched her inner muscles around the fingers, wishing that one of the men would feed his cock into her, knowing a hard, hot penis pumping into her would make her fast-approaching orgasm complete.

And then, as if she had uttered her prayer aloud, the man behind her put one arm around her waist and bent her forward several inches. Still keeping a firm grasp on her wrists behind her back, he began to rub his thick, hot cock between her ass cheeks.

Elizabeth tried to wriggle her vagina closer to the cock she so desperately craved, but the man between her legs was holding her hips steady between his big hands while continuing to torment her clit with his tongue, lips, and teeth.

Inflamed with desire, wanting nothing more than to be fucked hard by the large, stiff cock at her back, she assumed the voice of the Queen that she was and ordered the men to give her the ultimate pleasure that she now needed more than anything else in the world.

“Fuck me,” she said as she rubbed her slick, sensitive nipples against the stubble of the man toying with her breasts and then into his mouth, and then back out again across the stiff bristles on his cheeks.

“Fuck me hard,” she repeated, as she simultaneously pushed her clit up against the thick, hot tongue of the man between her knees and hiked her hips up so that the man behind her could get better access to her cunt.

“Fuck me now!” she demanded.

Her wishes were obeyed as the first inch of a thick cock opened up her labia and slipped into her slick warmth. “More,” she demanded and the man behind her obeyed, abruptly pushing his enormous cock in to the hilt. Tongues lapped furiously at her clit and her breasts as the cock rammed in and out of her again and again.

Gasping for air, all breath was ripped from her lungs in an incredibly powerful explosion that ripped through her body. She bucked wildly against the mouth between her legs, into the hips and cock ramming into her from behind, into the lips and tongue that felt like they were sucking every last piece of come from her body through her tits.

She fell limply into the arms of the man on the floor and it took several long moments for her to catch her breath. Finally she stood up in her heels and said, her voice no longer holding any hint of sexuality at all, “Open the drapes.”

The three men quickly moved to do her bidding and then stood before her waiting for her next command.

Sunlight streamed into the room and Elizabeth stood proudly naked before the men, enjoying the sight of their rippling muscles and huge hard-ons. She ran one red-nailed finger up a large cock still glistening with her come and said, “Excellent work, men. You may go.”

The men dressed silently while Elizabeth watched the light play over their perfect bodies. Her cunt was still throbbing from their delicious onslaught and she considered keeping one or two of the men behind for round two.

The phone rang and she quickly crossed the floor in her heels, her long legs supple and elegantly muscled, paying no attention to the appreciative glances from her sexual servants.

“Elizabeth,” she said crisply into the phone and then, “Fuck. I forgot,” slamming the phone back into its cradle.

She looked back at the men, knowing she'd have to wait until later for another glorious group fuck.

Not bothering to wash off the saliva and come on her body, she forgot all about the three men as she entered her huge, well-lit closet. She pulled another Chanel suit from the top rack and slipped into it. She ran an ivory-tipped comb through her hair, then pinned it back into a neat bun with several bobby pins. Her flawless skin needed nothing more than a light sweep of red lipstick. Pausing to inspect herself in the green and yellow suit, pleased at her tidy, only slightly flushed reflection, she kicked off her red spike heels, and slipped into green Manolo Blahniks adorned with four yellow straps across her arch.

Noting that her “bodyguards” had left, she grabbed her briefcase and stepped out into the dimly lit hall, closing the door behind her with a click, already having forgotten about the sexual delights from mere minutes ago.

It was time to head back into the business of being Queen.

Chapter Two

Elizabeth swept into the large courtroom. Without offering any apologies for being over an hour late to the proceedings, she strode towards the large leather chair in the front of the room, a picture of elegance and confidence in her well-tailored suit and expensive shoes. She sat down, crossing her long, supple legs sensuously.

Banging a wooden gavel down on the table before her, she said, “We may begin.”

Visitors to Magonia were always amazed when they found out that the Queen still ruled all of the court cases. Writers of history books marveled at the power that one woman had in their country, but as far as Elizabeth was concerned, being the judge and jury for every court case was a huge pain in the ass.

She derived little pleasure from listening to whiny stories from people who had stolen from a local shopkeeper, from husbands who said their wives had been unfaithful and wanted a divorce, from business partners whose joint venture had gone sour. Most of all, she hated displays of emotion in the courtroom. For a woman who had never been allowed to express even the littlest of emotions, no matter how dire the situation, she had no patience whatsoever for tears, sobs, or even sniffles, regardless of the hows, whens and whys.

Consequently, Elizabeth ruled every case quickly and efficiently. She had developed a remarkable talent of cutting straight through the bullshit to the heart of the matter. The quicker she made sense of a case, the quicker she could rule and get on with her day.

Particularly on a day such as this when her men had only served to whet her appetite and she was ready for more explosive orgasms.

The minutes crept by as she pronounced her rulings on dozens of cases. She had already read the files on each case, so she needed little additional testimony. She closed the file on her final case and began to stand up, when her court counselor slipped one more folder before her.

Elizabeth sighed loudly, but dutifully sat back down. A local man was being accused of tax evasion. She frowned and quickly read through the evidence, noting that there wasn't nearly enough data in the file to prosecute the man. She had no doubt that it was a clear-cut case of someone trying to get back at the man for bad investment advice.

“Is Gavin Court present?” she asked in a crisp voice.

A strikingly beautiful man rose out of the final row of seats in the back of the courtroom and came forward. “Your Highness,” he said with an over-exaggerated bow.

Elizabeth was glad for her years of training at hiding her emotions. How could she have missed such a man as this sitting in her courtroom? Even with just a quick glance, she could see that he packed a powerful punch between his legs. She knew with the utmost certainty that time spent with this man would be hours upon hours of pleasure.

As was her way, Elizabeth studied him carefully, feeling that she needed to know everything about him. His hair was more black than brown and fell to his shoulders, in need of a trim. His green eyes seemed lit with an inner fire that promised naughty pleasures to anyone who should be lucky enough to lie naked beneath his gaze. His shoulders were so broad, they looked ready to burst through the linen of his shirt. And his legs were well-muscled, lovingly encased in worn blue jeans.

She considered him thoughtfully. Perhaps when this case was closed she would invite him to the castle for a night neither of them would ever forget. And yet, she couldn't get beyond the fact that everything about his stance, the ridiculous little bow, seemed to be mocking her.

“Your accent tells me you are not from here,” she said when she had finished her perusal.

He swept her body with an intimate glance, his eyes coming back to rest on her ample breasts. Finally, having looked his fill, he bestowed a grin on her. He had decided to play the role of a charming scamp, obviously aware of the power he had over women with a mere grin. Elizabeth very much disliked the feeling that she was being played for a fool. This man obviously did not know whom he was dealing with.

Nobody got the better of Elizabeth Orleans. Nobody. No matter how good looking he was or how big his penis was.

“I used to live in California,” he said. “I moved to Magonia last year.”

“And yet you have the necessary permits to run a financial investment company within the borders of our country?”

“My mother was born here and so was I.” Giving her a sharp glance that said she wasn't going to be able to pin anything on him, he said, “I retained my citizenship.”

“What is your plea in this case?” Elizabeth asked, her voice laced with scorn. Even though she was certain that Gavin was innocent of any crime and was even more certain that he would be a mind-blowing screw, she refused to either let him off easy or to give in to the throbbing longing between her legs. She steadfastly ignored how hot and bothered she felt. She disregarded her need to step down off the raised platform and kneel in front of him to unzip his pants, to run her tongue up and down the big, juicy length of his cock.

Gavin's grin fell away, replaced with a hard look. “Not guilty, of course. Anyone with half a brain could see that I've been set up.”

Elizabeth raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “So the question is not whether or not you are guilty, is it Mr. Court? The question is merely whether or not I can make use of at least half of my brain?”

Gavin narrowed his eyes, then said, with obvious sarcasm. “That does seem to be the case, Your Highness.”

The onlookers in the courtroom gasped.

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, looking like a cat who had plunged into a vat of cream. “Mr. Court, I am sorry to have to tell you that although you retained your Magonia citizenship, you have neglected to keep up with local laws. You see,” she said, leaning forward to give her soon-to-be-prisoner a generous look at her full breasts, looking not the least bit sorry, “in order for our court cases to run smoothly, the local people voted a unique law into place nearly one hundred years ago, which states, and I quote, `Anyone who insults a judge during a court proceeding will be automatically sentenced to eight hours locked within the stockade.' This,” she said, with a satisfied glint in her eyes, “is to ensure that the person has ample time to think about his or her behavior.”

Elizabeth tapped one long red fingernail on the table before her. Considering what she had just told him, she was rather impressed with Gavin's stony expression. Of course, she would never let him know that she had anything but the greatest disrespect for him. He was a man, she decided, who must be firmly put into his place.

“Have you nothing to say for yourself?” she asked him imperiously.

Gavin held his hands out to the two guards that flanked him. “I can't think of anything I'd rather experience more than eight hours locked up in an ancient wooden stockade.” Looking disparagingly up and down Elizabeth's well-displayed charms, his upper lip curled. “Nothing at all.”

Elizabeth felt her cheeks flame with fury. No man had ever been able to resist her sexuality, no man had ever judged her body and found her wanting. But this man had practically spat his distaste of her in front of the entire courtroom.

“Take him away!” she cried, and then immediately spun around in her chair, and disappeared through a door behind her.

* * * * *

Thirty minutes later, Elizabeth stood in the window of a guest room two stories above the stockade. She looked down upon her new prisoner, her blood heating up at the sight of his perfect physique.

His shirt had been stripped from his body and even though he stood beneath the hot midday sun with his head and arms locked into the stockade, Elizabeth could feel his pride was not lost. Not in the least.

Well-defined muscles across his shoulders and chest were glistening with sweat, and Elizabeth found that she longed to taste him. Even more now than in the courtroom, Elizabeth wanted this man.

Her fingers instinctively moved to play with her breasts. She unbuttoned her silk shirt until the mounds of her breasts rose up over the fine lace of her bra. As her cold fingers slipped beneath pink lace to find her hot, tight nipples, as she squeezed them between her slender thumb and forefinger, Gavin turned his head and looked directly into her eyes.

Knowing she had been caught watching him, admiring his partial nakedness, hot juices flooded her. Elizabeth squeezed her legs together while twisting her nipples within her hands, unable to stop touching herself.

She wanted to give the arrogant man something to think about during his long hours in the sun. She wanted to teach him a lesson about not treating his Queen with the proper respect. Oh yes, she wanted to show him exactly what he was missing. She moved closer to the low window and leaned forward until her breasts were just skimming the glass.

She thought she saw passion leap up into her prisoner's eyes, and she decided to go further with her taunts, to tease him mercilessly with her luscious body. She wanted him to know that he could have had the privilege of licking the come from between her lips, had he only behaved properly in the courtroom.

Slowly, she stripped off her jacket and threw it onto the stone floor. Next, she undid the remaining buttons on her silk shirt, pulling it out from her skirt. As she shrugged the shirt off her slender shoulders, she shook her breasts and enjoyed the feeling of them jiggling wildly above the edge of her bra. Her nipples grew harder as they scraped against the lace of her bra and brushed against the cool glass on the window.

Taunting her prisoner was one of the most sensuous things she had done in a long time—her capture fantasies with her bodyguards had gotten a bit boring in the past year, she realized—and she moaned as she ran her hand down the front of her skirt to her throbbing mound and squeezed her pussy through the fabric.

She saw a rivulet of sweat drop from Gavin's head to the cement. Even though his expression hadn't changed a bit—he was still just as arrogant as he had been in her courtroom when the guards took him away—Elizabeth knew that watching her sex show in the upstairs window was driving him crazy. She bet that his cock was fully, beautifully engorged. And although a part of her wanted to rush down the stairs to unzip his pants and start fucking him while he was locked up and at her mercy, unable to do anything but give in to what she wanted, she refused to give him the satisfaction.

She unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the ground, standing only in her wispy bra and thong before the window. She slipped her fingers past the rim of her panties, into her hot, wet flesh. Her lips were plump and incredibly sensitive to every stroke of her cold fingers. She undid the front clasp of her bra with her free hand and her large breasts sprang free from their lace bindings. She ground her breasts into the window, reveling in the ice-cold glass against her hot, hard nipples.

Reluctantly removing her fingers from her sopping pussy, she pulled her thong down her thighs, wriggling slightly, letting it fall down to her ankles. She stepped out of them and propped one of her high-heeled legs up on the eighteen-inch high windowsill. Her labia stretched open to Gavin's gaze and she pressed her fingers into her vagina while rolling her nipples in her other hand.

Elizabeth couldn't remember the last time she had been so excited. She knew that she was on the verge of a very powerful orgasm. Just knowing that her prisoner was watching her show, just knowing that he was likely about to burst in his jeans from watching her stroke and fondle herself, made her want to scream out in ecstasy.

Training her blue gaze on his piercing green eyes, she swirled her clit. She rubbed herself slowly, wanting to prolong her prisoner's torture. But she was so excited by her own performance, so excited by Gavin's searing gaze, the delicious sensations built up quickly to a fever pitch. She couldn't hold on much longer.

Staring deeply into Gavin's eyes, imagining that his tongue was lapping greedily between her legs and impossibly, wonderfully, roughly sucking her breasts at the same time, she pressed her fingers into her clit and spun them hard and fast into herself. Her fingers were wet and slippery with her juices as she came in an explosive burst of pleasure, her inner muscles convulsing so strongly that she was nearly rocked off her feet by the force of her orgasm.

Throughout it all, she held Gavin's gaze, not allowing herself to close her eyes or throw her head back in rapture. She came for what felt like an eternity and she thought that she saw her prisoner smile as the force of her orgasm pounded her breasts rhythmically against the window.

But later, after she had stepped away from the window to dress and get back to the business of running a country, Elizabeth couldn't shake the very disturbing feeling that perhaps she had not been the one in control at all. That, odd as it seemed, she had been powerless to fight the pull Gavin had over her body. That everything she had done in the window had been to his specific request.

That he was inexplicably, inexorably in charge.

Not her.

Chapter Three

Elizabeth took a quick shower, intent on washing Gavin's gaze from her body. But instead of succeeding in cleansing herself of him, as she ran the soft, soapy cloth over her tender breasts she couldn't help but imagine that he was sucking them, teasing her tits with the tip of his tongue, nipping at the fleshy mounds with his even, white teeth. And when she ran the cloth between her legs, she could almost believe that his beard was scraping against her swollen labia as his lips and tongue worked her clit, urging her to come.

Cursing her prisoner, cursing her need for his touch, she aimed her specially designed water nozzle at her pussy and rocked her hips into it as she came again with a moan.

Drying off with a large, plush towel minutes later, her vagina still throbbing in the aftermath of her two violent orgasms, she thought back to the beginning of her sexual games. She had been a twenty-year-old virgin—having been cloistered in the castle her whole life, leaving only to meet with the rulers of other countries—she had never had so much as a date. Her ancient professors had taught her Latin, physics, and chemistry, but no one had thought to include sex education into her tutoring. She had never touched herself for any other purpose than cleansing. She didn't know what she was missing out on, she just knew that sometimes she felt a pent-up energy rocketing through her body, begging for sweet release.

That was the year she had received several written threats against her life. She discounted them as nothing more than the rantings of a self-pitying fool, but her counselor and staff disagreed. Given that there were no other heirs to the throne, if she were killed, her country would be left without a ruler, at least temporarily, which could be utterly disastrous for its citizens. Unwilling to risk such chaos, two bodyguards were assigned to her. One to watch over her during the day, one to watch over her in the evening.

Elizabeth hated the thought of being followed around every minute by two big men who clearly didn't have a brain between them. She went out of her way to hide from them, to confuse them with her whereabouts.

It was a perfect spring day and Elizabeth was certain that she had lost her bodyguard in the winding paths of the forest. Hot and sticky and feeling more than a little reckless now that she was free, she stripped out of her clothes and dove into the cool waters of Lake Almadine. She swam for several minutes, enjoying the feel of the fresh spring water sliding over her skin. When she had surfaced for air, she looked up into the angry face of her bodyguard, standing on the banks of the lake with her clothes held between two of his fingers.

“Queen Elizabeth,” he said in a rough voice. “You must come back with me at once.”

Elizabeth couldn't believe he actually thought that he could tell her, his Queen, what to do. And yet she knew he was right. She had to return to the castle before her staff sent a whole team of men after her.

“Fine,” she said, making sure that the man knew her displeasure at his command. “Turn around and leave my clothes on that rock.”

Her bodyguard shook his head. “No. I will not turn my back on you. You will run away.”

Elizabeth couldn't believe one of her subjects had just disobeyed a direct order. “I will see that you are fired and sent away if you do not do as I say.”

The man's expression changed not at all. “You can fire me as soon as I return you to the castle.”

Elizabeth knew she was caught. Chewing on her lower lip, she realized she had no choice but to let her guard see her unclothed. Tentatively rising up out of the lake, she felt ashamed of her nakedness—no one but her nanny had ever seen the golden curls between her legs, or the dusky tips of her full breasts before, and she had been told time and time again that she must never let anyone see her unless she was dressed to the nines—she planned to hurry over to the bodyguard to take her clothes from his big, meaty hands, intent on not meeting his gaze. Once this whole fiasco was over, she would fire him, he would be gone, and she would never have to think on it again.

But as she emerged from the lake, her nipples hard and pointy from the cold water and the light spring wind, she couldn't help but feel as if her skin was suddenly on fire. Looking at her bodyguard with alarm, she saw that he was staring at her breasts with a great hunger, as if he wanted to devour them. Her clothes had dropped from his fingers and she could see a bulge beginning to appear between his legs.

Was she actually causing this reaction?

Suddenly, Elizabeth was filled with a greater sense of power than she had ever known before. Unbelievably, it seemed that the mere sight of her unbound breasts was enough to inflame her bodyguard. Testing her newfound knowledge, she instinctively cupped her breasts, letting the nipples overflow from her hands, testing their weight. Her skin felt tight and hot as she touched herself in such a forbidden way. She risked another glance at her guard and saw, with great satisfaction, that the bulge in his pants had grown larger. Much larger.

Licking her lips, she rose up further out of the water, until the vee of her legs met the glassy surface. She could see her body mirrored in the water, her face flushed with excitement, her hands cupping her large breasts, her legs spread, the blue sky behind her. Elizabeth had never felt so wonderful in all her life. So powerful. So whole. This was what she had been looking for, waiting for, dreaming of.

She felt a throbbing between her legs—hot, insistent, wet—and marveled at the sensation. Wanting more of something she couldn't even name, she slowly ran one of her hands down her flat belly, through her curls, and between the folds of her pussy. She was met with a slick warmth. She tentatively stroked her forbidden flesh, and learned with a shock of surprise just how sensitive and swollen her skin had become.

Her bodyguard groaned loudly and she looked back at him, pleased by his response to her body. “Come here. Now,” she said to him, her heart pounding in anticipation.

He broke out of his trance and came over to her, like a dog obeying its master.

“Take off your clothes,” she demanded, half-expecting him to argue with her, to tell her that they needed to get back to the castle. Instead he stripped his shirt and pants off with record speed.

When his huge shaft sprang free from his pants, Elizabeth blanched slightly. She had seen barnyard animals rut, so she wasn't completely na�ve to sexual acts, but she couldn't imagine taking his huge penis into her.

None of this, however, stopped her from reaching out to touch it. It was so big and red and velvety, she thought it was the most scrumptious, wonderful thing she had ever seen.

This is a penis, she thought, marveling at its proud shape, at the veins that shot up the length of it to the large, smooth head. A drop of come appeared on the tip of his penis and she bent forward to taste it. Her guard moaned loudly, his skin hot with barely contained lust.

Not wanting him to think she didn't know what she was doing, she said, in a firm, even voice, “Touch me how you touch your girlfriends.” She saw the man hesitate and worried that he was going to come to his senses and change his mind. Desperate for the pleasure that she was sure was waiting for her at his hands, from his huge cock, from his mouth, she egged him on by moving her hands back up to her breasts and squeezing them together, pinching her nipples with her well-manicured fingers.

“Don't you want to lick me?” she asked. “Don't you want to touch me?”

He came towards her then, falling to his knees in the shallow water, his face pressed between her breasts like a newborn calf suckling its mother, depending on her milk in order to stay alive.

Oh god, never before had such wondrous sensations coursed through her body. She arched into his mouth, and he pressed his meaty hands against her tight ass, pushing her pussy into his chest. An impossible pressure was building up between her legs and she was desperate for something, some kind of release.

His fingers found her clit, slid down her slick folds, and he roughly pressed one finger into her tight passage. Greedily, she ground her hips against his hand, loving how his finger stretched her vagina, wanting more. As if he heard her unspoken request, he slid another finger into her pussy, and Elizabeth gasped at his onslaught as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. Her pleasure was so intense, it was nearly painful, and Elizabeth felt incoherent with joy.

This is what I've been waiting for my whole life, she thought as the heaviness between her legs grew nearly unbearable. Her guard found her clit again with his thumb. As his fingers plunged in and out of her pussy, as he swirled her distended nub, as he suckled her breasts, Elizabeth learned that there was indeed a power greater than any Queen.

Giving in to the glorious supremacy of being fucked, she rocked her pelvis into his hand, rubbed her breasts against the prickly stubble on his cheek, and fell into the abyss of her first amazing, incredible orgasm, screaming out her pleasure, wanting the contractions to go on forever.

Her body a mass of tremors, her guard pressed the thick head of his cock against her and thrust all the way in without pretense. She screamed again at his onslaught, as the pain of his sudden ambush pierced her orgasmic daze, but within seconds she was sliding up and down on his penis, all thoughts of pain gone, focused only on her next orgasm, which she instinctively knew was mere moments away.

She felt his cock swell up even bigger inside her, stretching her tight, small passage to fit its impossibly huge width. As his mouth latched onto her nipple again, he pounded into her, hard enough to bruise her tender flesh, and she came again, each contraction milking the come out of her bodyguard's perfect penis.

Coming back into the present, Elizabeth realized she was sitting in her dressing room with her hand between her legs. Glancing at the wall clock she accepted that she had to leave right away to greet the King and Queen of Italy. But tonight, she would play another game with her men.

Sex was the only way she could release her tensions, her anxieties, and whatever pent up emotions she had within her.

And she wouldn't trade fucking for anything in the world.

Chapter Four

Gavin stood outside the Queen's bedroom door with great anticipation. He could hardly believe what the royal bitch had done to him during the past twelve hours. Now, she was going to pay for her misdeeds, and pay royally.

Gavin smiled at his pun. After he was through with her, Queen Elizabitch was going to regret having given him the past eight hours to do little else but plot her fate. Although Gavin had never had much of a taste for revenge in the past, he was starting to see that there were distinct advantages.

No one fucked with Gavin Court and walked away smiling. Not even a Queen.

He had only been locked into the stockade for an hour—a long, hot, sweaty hour during which he silently cursed her up and down—when his body had started to buzz. He had wondered if he was suffering from dehydration, but he had been in far hotter climes in far worse circumstance and knew he wouldn't be fading under the sun after a mere hour. No, the buzzing was indicating something else entirely.

The stockade was in what looked to be an abandoned part of the castle, which made sense given that such a ridiculous punishment had to have gone out of fashion at least a hundred years ago. Probably, he figured, until today they had only used the stockade for show-and-tell with the local schoolchildren. They'd certainly get an eyeful if they arrived on a field trip today.

Locked into the wooden contraption, he faced the east wing of the castle. A handful of windows looked down upon the stockade, and Gavin stared at the windows directly in front of him, seeing no one.

The buzzing had moved from his chest to his head, and his ears were now ringing. During his time as an undercover agent Gavin had learned never to discount his sixth sense, so he turned his head up to a somewhat unnatural angle just in time to see a wonderful sight. His nemesis, the Queen of Magonia, was standing in the window, watching him, and she had just slipped her hand inside her bra to play with her nipples.

Gavin had worked to keep his expression blank, but he didn't look away from what she so blatantly offered. Regardless of his situation, regardless of the fact that the woman in the upstairs window had sentenced him to this indignity, and would pay when he was set free, Gavin couldn't deny that she was a seriously hot piece of ass. Legs that seemed to go on for days, a tight round ass, and breasts that threatened to put Dolly's to shame.

He had heard her called the Ice Queen and it was rumored that she never showed any emotion whatsoever. Watching her now as she fondled herself in the upstairs window, he wondered how she had ever come by such a false reputation.

Had he met her under more favorable circumstances—say in a local bar on a Friday night, as opposed to a courtroom where she was the judge and jury—he would have had her fuckable body jammed between him and a back room wall, with his cock ramming into her cunt and her juicy tits between his lips, in five minutes flat. He had no doubt that she would have thanked him handsomely for the pleasure.

As it was, even in such an awkward position, locked between thick wood planks, blood had rushed into his penis, engorging it, getting it ready to sink into a hot, wet vagina. Gavin had been pleased to see the Queen start slightly, her blue sorceress eyes growing big with the knowledge that her prisoner had caught her touching herself. He knew with 100% certainty—just as he had known in the courtroom—that she wanted to rake her long, red fingernails down his chest to wrap them around his cock. He was certain that she would give her last breath to lie crushed beneath the weight of his body, her slim legs spread wide as she stretched to take his enormous cock. In the courtroom she had been so arrogant, so sure of her allure, he had derived great pleasure from taunting her with his disinterest, even though it had gotten him nothing more than a day in a stockade.

Then again, it suddenly seemed that he was about to get a great deal more.

Gavin had gotten the sense that she thought she could torture him further with her body, and he was glad for her misconception as she moved close to the window and pressed her huge globes up against the glass. Damn glad.

Go on, he urged her silently. Show me what you've got. I dare you.

Her Highness must have gotten his telepathic message, because she began a striptease that Gavin knew he'd never forget. He began to sweat, but not from the heat, as she stripped off her clothes and her breasts bounced and shook against the window, her nipples sharpening into hard points. Moments later, she stood proudly before the window in a truly slutty set of lingerie—sheer red lace that barely covered more than an inch or two of skin at most.

Who would have thought that the Queen would wear lingerie that was clearly made for only one thing?

For endless down and dirty fucking.

He watched her slip her hand down into her panties and saw her mouth open in a gasp of pleasure. Another minute later, she was naked, her full breasts ground into the window—he could only imagine how good the cool, smooth surface must feel against her taut nipples—and then she propped one long and slender leg up onto the windowsill, exposing a hairless, slick, pink pussy to his hungry gaze.

Oh yes, he had thought as he watched her masturbate, her movements frantic, her orgasm so strong she nearly broke through the glass to fall down at his feet, Queen Elizabitch would be one hot fuck.

Not long after her sex show, Gavin was released from the stockade. Perhaps she had decided to display her wares to him in person? But instead of setting him free, four guards threw him into an ancient dungeon.

Gavin sat in the cool, damp cell, patiently waiting for someone to come with food or water. He used the time to meditate, to calm himself, and to plan. Years of eastern studies had given him an endless supply of serenity, for which he was now thankful.

Several hours must have passed by the time a heavy key turned in the lock. Gavin stayed seated in a cross-legged position, waiting until the guard entered with a tray of water and food to pounce. He sprung up quick as a cat after a mouse, and kicked the tray from the guard's hands, sending a second kick straight into the giant's jaw. Gavin's aim was dead on—the man would be knocked out cold for five or six hours, but he would feel no serious ill effects when he woke up.

Stripping his clothes off, Gavin rolled the unconscious man over to take his clothes. Dressing the guard in his now worse-for-the-wear jeans, he closed the guard's thick black belt around his waist. At 6'2”, Gavin was only a couple of inches shorter than the guard—nothing anyone would notice with just a quick look, especially given the baseball cap the man wore over his shaggy hair.

Picking up the keys that had dropped to the floor, Gavin locked the guard into the cell and stepped out into the crisp night air, sucking it into his lungs. Another guard yelled, “How's the prisoner?”

Gavin pulled his borrowed cap down further over his face and gave the man a thumb's up.

“She wants you up above,” the man said. “She damn near wore three of us out this morning, but you know the Queen. She can never get enough.”

Gavin nodded and headed in what he hoped to be the right direction, pondering the guard's words. She can never get enough. She damn near wore three of us out this morning. Gavin was pretty sure the guard wasn't talking about a game of racquetball. Could it be that the Queen liked the high hard one, and often? Were her guards more than mere bodyguards? Sex slaves, perhaps?

Finally, Gavin stood outside the Queen's bedroom. The two guards in the hall had barely looked at him once they saw his uniform. Everything was going nicely according to plan, as the first key he tried opened the door to what he assumed were the Queen's private quarters. He silently stepped inside.

“It took you long enough to get here,” the Queen said angrily, her voice muffled by a wall. “Hurry,” she demanded. “I was about to take care of myself.”

Gavin walked through the thick stone archway towards the sound of her voice, which seemed to be coming through a wall of books and a fireplace. There must be a secret door, he mused and he looked for a way to get in. He had just seen an old movie where the sconces on either side of the fireplace were levers to a trick door. Figuring it couldn't hurt, he tugged on one.

A thick door slid open as if on pulleys, and Gavin grinned. He had always wondered what living like royalty would be like. He was starting to get a pretty clear picture.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light in the windowless room, and he inhaled, smelling the unmistakable scent of female musk. Oh yes, the Queen was definitely a bitch in heat.

“The straps are on the table,” she said, her voice crisp with authority.

Gavin picked up the bundle of leather straps and took several more steps into the room. As he turned a corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. What looked to be a torture rack was set up in the middle of the room. But what was even more astonishing was that his adversary was stretched out upon it stark-naked, her sight masked by a black leather blindfold. The rack was set up such that her head was several feet higher than her perfectly manicured toes.

Gavin had intended to frighten the Queen, to force her to apologize for locking him into the stockade and then the dungeon, not to rape her. He had never forced a woman to have sex with him—the truth was, women usually threw themselves at him—and he wasn't about to start now.

However, if she was going to beg for it like this, he supposed it would be rude of him not to oblige her, especially given that she had the most fuckable set of tits Gavin had ever seen, unmatched by any porn star. He had been impressed with them through the window, but live and in person they took his breath away. He couldn't wait to feel their creamy, plump perfection milking his cock as he slid between them, squeezing them against his shaft.

Everything about the Queen screamed of sex. Her smooth waxed pussy gleamed with a fine sheen of her arousal already seeping out between her thighs. He was sure she knew the potent effect she had on men—even those she was paying to have sex with her—given the way she lay upon the rack, with a slight arch to her back, emphasizing the slenderness of her ribcage, and the small circumference of her waist, perfectly showcasing her huge globes to hungry eyes.

Not wasting one second of this precious opportunity, Gavin silently covered the distance separating them and deftly tied up her slender wrists.

“Ouch,” she complained as he tightly tied the restraints. “You're hurting me, you oaf.”

Don't dish it out if you can't take it, he thought silently.

“The damn prisoner put me in a bad mood with his arrogance. Who does he think he is? I'm the Queen, goddamn it, and he'll do as I say. So don't mess with me today, James. Just make me come and get out.”

Gavin roughly grabbed her ankle, pleased that he had bothered her so much. Elizabeth fought him as he tied up her ankles, trying to wrench her foot away from his firm grasp. He enjoyed watching her breasts heave and jiggle as she tried, unsuccessfully, to wriggle away from him.

“Untie me,” she commanded.

Gavin laughed, a harsh sound that bounced off the walls of the cave-like room.

Elizabeth's body stiffened. “James?”

Gavin's voice was smooth as silk. “I'm afraid James couldn't make it today.”

“Who are you?” Her blindfold masked the fear that Gavin was sure he'd see in her eyes. He was tempted to rip the leather from her face so that he could watch her quivering, see the whites of her eyes grow big as she begged him not to hurt her. As it was, she still sounded much too sure of herself for his liking.

He'd have to make sure to change all that.

Gavin tied the last strong knot around her ankles and admired the plump lips of the Queen's labia, spread out before him. He slipped one finger into her moist canal. She gasped and her muscles clenched around his fingers. A fresh spurt of liquid surrounded his fingers.

So the little bitch got aroused even when she was in danger? Gavin found that new piece of information to be very interesting.

He slipped his finger out of her pussy. Circling one of her tight nipples with the very tip of his finger, watching himself spread her come onto her puckering areola, he leaned forward until his mouth was touching her ear.

“I am,” he said softly, every word laced with meaningful intention, “your worst enemy.”

Chapter Five

The Queen's breath stilled and for half a second, Gavin thought she might begin to hurl obscenities at him. Instead, she surprised him with an upturn of her delectable red lips.

“I hope you enjoyed your time in the stockade,” she said, her voice arrogant and far too sure of itself.

Gavin wondered how she dared to mock him when she was in such an indefensible position—with all four limbs tied to the rack, her body his for the taking, in any way he wanted, for however long he desired.

“I've been meaning to get some sun,” he said, his voice easy and all the more menacing for the threat it now lacked. “Thank you for the time off.”

His goading worked its magic. Elizabeth tensed again, ready to fight. Her breathing grew labored and her perfect breasts shook beneath his hands, the creamy skin surrounding her nipples growing a light shade of pink in her outrage.

“You pig,” she spat. “I'm certain that my guards have probably already discovered that you are missing from your cage. So go ahead and rape me. I dare you. You will pay for your indiscretions.”

Gavin wanted to smack the indignation and superiority right out of her. Oh yes, he would enjoy bringing his hand down onto the flesh of her tight little ass. He would ignore her pleas for him to stop his onslaught. He wouldn't care if her cheeks got pink and stinging beneath his calloused hands. He would work her over until he was satisfied, her wants and needs be damned.

And the cherry on top would be the hot, wet pussy that he knew would be waiting for him when he was done spanking her sweet little behind.

Because all indicators thus far pointed to the undeniable fact that the Queen liked it rough.

And dirty.

Which, if she wasn't careful, was exactly what she was going to get.

Unfortunately, she hadn't shut up yet and Gavin seriously considered shoving one of the pieces of leather into her mouth.

“You are going to lose everything,” she said, as haughty as if she were in full regalia greeting a foreign ambassador, rather than stretched open and in heat on an ancient torture rack.

Gavin wrapped his hands around her breasts, noting with glee that his large hands couldn't come close to containing them. He squeezed them, measuring their heavy weight in his hands. He was going to blow like a pimply-faced teenager if he wasn't careful.

Then again, who cared if he exploded after five seconds? He could get it up and come all over her creamy skin ten times if he wanted to. After all, she was at his mercy.

“First of all, my dear,” he said, his voice light and playful, without a care in the world, “I heartily recommend that you get over the notion of your guards coming in to save you.”

“You're delusional,” she said. “My guards would never leave me in jeopardy.”

Gavin ran one of his fingers down her throat, finally resting it at her pulse point. “Because you are such a joy to work for, I presume? Because you heap them with praise? Or is it because they couldn't bear the thought of not being able to fuck that tight, juicy pussy of yours?”

Gavin's taunt hit home as Elizabeth's cheeks flamed, the flush working its way down her neck to the tops of her phenomenal breasts, her pulse beating wildly beneath his finger.

“Good,” he said. “I like to know that you are afraid of me.”

His words set Elizabeth off like a rocket. “I'm not afraid of you, you lowlife bastard!”

He leaned forward until their lips nearly touched. “As for my second piece of advice, might I suggest, Your Highness,” he said, delighted with the knowledge that her lips were trembling less than an inch away from his, “that you start to behave with a little more circumspection?”

“Fuck you!” she cried.

Gavin chuckled and ran his thumb over her lips. She tried to bite him and he laughed again. “There will be plenty of time for biting later. Just be patient.”

He grabbed her jaw and clamped her mouth shut so he could finish speaking without further interruption. “You see, I wanted to thank you in person for that titillating strip tease you did this afternoon. I'm not sure I've ever seen anyone come quite so hard before.”

Lowering his voice to barely a whisper, he added, “Now it's my turn.”

* * * * *

Elizabeth was scared shitless. She hated being powerless. After twenty-five years in control of everyone and everything around her, she balked at even five minutes under someone else's control.

But none of her dismay at her current predicament did anything to change the facts.

Fact: Somehow her prisoner—the one she had spontaneously sent into the stockade and then had locked into the ancient dungeon—had escaped.

Fact: He was definitely going to kill her.

Fact: After raping her, that is.

The worst part of it all, however, was that even though she knew she could be taking her last breath at any moment, she still wanted desperately for him to fuck her. She had to stop herself from begging him to suck her nipples, to slip his hand between her legs and massage her engorged clit.

Elizabeth couldn't bear the thought of denying herself pleasure. She cared not the slightest bit whether her guards came—in fact, half the time they were still rock hard when she dismissed them. But it was vitally important to her, a live-or-die situation, really, that her needs were always sated.

Whatever the reason, it wasn't difficult to allow herself to give in to the sensual onslaught being dosed out by her prisoner. Can I help it if I'm powerless to fight the need that dominates me? she thought.

At least if she was going to die today, she would die a well-pleasured woman. She nearly smiled at the thought.

She felt Gavin's tongue lave her nipple and moaned. Oh yes, that's what she wanted from him. She was eager to feel his hot breath work its way down her body to her cunt. She was more than ready for him, slick and pink, and dying for the nine or ten inches between his legs.

Now that she had decided to give in to his torment, to enjoy every last orgasmic moment she had on earth, she relished her excitement, which only seemed to grow with every quiet threat he delivered. Already, she was so much more aroused than she would have been with her guard, James. No doubt about it, her usual sex games had gotten old.

“You like that, don't you?” he asked her, his voice thick with lust as he moved his searing lips to her other breast.

She moaned again in response, her lips and tongue unable to form words as her prisoner found purchase at the tips of her sensitive, puckering areolas. The stubble on his chin scraped the delicate undersides of her breasts and his fingers lightly ran down her belly.

She tried to arch her pelvis into his hand, but she was so tightly strapped into the archaic torture rack she couldn't move more than an inch.

“Should I taste your pussy?” he murmured into her stomach, as he dropped his lips to her belly and licked a path between her ribs. He dipped his tongue into her belly button and she whimpered. Hot liquid flooded her cunt at the thought of his mouth coming down over her mound, at the vision of his tongue lightly flicking at her clit. Elizabeth couldn't help but be amazed by how little Gavin was doing to turn her on so much.

It must be the danger, she decided, barely able to keep a coherent thought in her head. With the threat of harm real this time—as opposed to the well-choreographed scenes with her bodyguards—fucking was so much better.

She didn't for one second believe that the man himself was responsible for her inflamed reaction. All men were interchangeable. She had always found that no matter how exciting they were in the beginning, she was soon bored silly by them.

She trembled with anticipation as his teeth nipped at her lower belly. She knew her newly waxed mound was glistening with her come, and she wanted her prisoner to taste it. To lap it up between his full, masculine lips.

His tongue found the opening of her slit and slid warm and coarse past her engorged clit, separating her stretched lips even further, and into her vagina. Long and deft, it stroked her walls. Elizabeth was on the verge of her best orgasm ever.

Suddenly, a blast of cold air covered her body.

Her prisoner must have stood up. “Please,” she begged him. “I'm so close.”

She hated the sound of her usually powerful voice beseeching him to finish her off, but she couldn't bear not to come. Not when he had had her on the edge of such a promising orgasm.

He could fuck her for days, any way he wanted, if only he would let her explode against his tongue.

She heard him undo the buckle on his belt. Elizabeth hoped, no, prayed, that he was unleashing his cock. That he had stopped sucking at her cunt because he was planning to ram his penis into her. She held her breath, waiting for the sound of his zipper, and panted in anticipation of feeling his thick shaft on her belly.

“It can be painful to be so close to getting what you want and then having it ripped away, don't you think Elizabeth?” His voice was soft, almost a caress.

Elizabeth shook her head violently. “Go ahead and rape me,” she pleaded. “I won't tell anyone. I promise.”

She hoped her pledge would make a difference, would convince him to fuck her, but no such luck.

Instead, what she assumed to be the metal buckle on his belt swept up the inside of her leg, from her ankle, past her calf, then knee, and up the moist, sensitive skin on her inner thigh.

She whimpered and bit the inside of her lip. Maybe he was just going to tease her for a little while longer, she thought. Maybe he didn't want her to come until he had worked her up into a fever pitch?

Oh yes, her prisoner was so much better than her guards, who would have kowtowed to her demands to come, too afraid to deny her anything, even if it meant a mind-blowing release.

Less than an inch from the folds of her cunt, Gavin repeated his actions on her other leg. From ankle, to calf, to knee, to thigh. Elizabeth knew that if the belt buckle so much as flitted across her clit she would come.

“Don't stop there,” she implored him. “Just another inch or two higher.”

But instead of giving her what she wanted, instead of the feel of cool metal dragging over her clit, she heard the belt crash loudly against the stone wall.

“No,” she cried, wishing that Gavin hadn't thrown the belt away, when he could have put it to such good use between her legs.

“I can't wait any longer,” she said, no longer caring how pathetic she sounded. She had never begged any man to screw her, not once in the past ten years. But then again, her every sense had never been this inflamed. She was sure she'd never been more ready for a man's cock, never more ready to dive over the edge into a boundless orgasm.

“I'm very much afraid, Your Highness,” he said in a low voice, “that you are going to have to learn some patience.”

Elizabeth was so caught up in the sound of his zipper coming undone that she barely heard his words. She was absolutely certain that he was finally about to give her what she needed—a working over with his thick, hot penis and maybe, if she was lucky, his lips sucking at her tingling nipples while he thrust in and out of her. How could he resist everything that she was offering? No man ever had, and Elizabeth was confident that it wasn't just because she paid their salaries that her hired men fucked her with such wild abandon.

But instead of taking her—roughly, gently, slowly, swiftly, she didn't care how—she realized that Gavin was turning the hand crank on the ancient torture rack. As her head was lowered to no more than two feet off of the ground, until she was lying horizontal rather than vertical, she felt a prickling of unease return.

What is he planning on doing to me? Why won't he fuck me? Any other man who found her tied to a rack in a windowless, soundproof room would have had his pants around his ankles and his cock stuffed into her in sixty seconds flat.

But not this man. Not her prisoner.

Elizabeth shivered as her fear returned, matched in equal parts by her ever-growing excitement, and her areolas puckered even tighter into rigid buds.

After a long moment of doubt, as the restless feeling grew near to bursting in her belly, Gavin answered her unspoken question by lifting one leg over the side of the rack, straddling her body and the metal rack with his powerfully built thighs.

How she longed to have her hands free to take his shaft between them, to judge his girth, his length, to run her thumb over the come spurting from the tip and taste him on her lips.

Elizabeth had never before cared to lick or suck any man's penis. She loved the power of making men hard, of telling them what to do with their rod, how to use it to pleasure her the most. But she had never longed to run her smooth fingers up and down a man's length until he was about to burst. She had never dreamt of feeling a man's hot length slipping in between her tits, letting his come spurt into her eager mouth.

But now, she dreamt of it all. It was amazing. She hadn't even seen his cock yet, and yet she dreamt of tasting her prisoner, of licking his head, slowly sucking it in between her lips until he groaned with pleasure.

Planning all the ways she would get pleasure from her prisoner's penis once he untied her, she grew even wetter, her skin even hotter, the skin across her breasts more constricted.

And then his hands came around the outside of her breasts and Elizabeth moaned, delirious with joy just to have his hands on her, anywhere on her body. Suddenly a new heat seared her flesh, in the deep valley between her breasts, and she moaned, “Oh god yes, Gavin,” in rapture.

Her prisoner stilled the slow thrust of his penis between her tits, pausing for an interminable moment, and then resumed his progress until his cock lay safely nestled between her breasts, the smooth, wet head of his penis pushed up into her chin.

With every stroke between her tits—slick from the slight sheen of sweat that covered her body—as he pushed her boobs harder and harder against his shaft, as his breathing grew harsher, as he twirled and pinched her stiff nipples between his fingers, Elizabeth felt that she was nearly there, nearly on the finish line of an orgasm that needed no lips, no tongue, no fingers, and no cock to help it explode into a million pieces.

A low roar emerged from her prisoner's throat. He plunged into her breasts with several long, hard strokes. Elizabeth felt warm, thick come bathe her neck and the tops of her breasts. It ran between her mounds, and slid beneath Gavin's pulsating shaft, easing his passage on her already slick skin.

She imagined tasting his semen, licking him clean, and getting him ready to enter her cunt, and the image was so potent, she felt her muscles begin to clench, her labia swelling in eagerness for release.

Loud voices sounded from the room beyond, her guards coming to save her from the escaped prisoner.

She was going to fire each and every one of them.

She felt a whoosh of air over her wet skin as Gavin jumped off her. She heard him zip up his pants.

“Where's the other exit to this room?” he demanded, his voice harsh.

Elizabeth was too disappointed by her lost orgasm to bother answering. Everything was about to go back to the way it always was—boring and normal with her guards doing whatever she told them to.

She wished she could have more danger, more excitement, more Gavin, but she knew that it wasn't going to happen. Gavin would run out the back exit, her guards would recapture him and he would be punished. She would go back to her usual sex games, while dreaming of her prisoner and the orgasm that might have been. End of story.

But instead of running, he began to untie her leather bonds, growling impatiently, “If you want that orgasm you've been dying for, tell me how we can get out of the castle with no one seeing us.”

Hope sparked in Elizabeth's breast. He planned to make her come after all, thank god.

“There's another door,” she said, her need for him blaringly obvious in the husky cadence of her voice.

He finished untying her and scooped her naked body up into his arms. “Where?”

“Untie my blindfold,” she said. “I'll show you the way.”

He sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, sending tremors all the way through her. “If you do anything to escape from me,” he said calmly, quietly, “anything at all, that'll be the last time I'll ever touch you again.”

Without even needing to think about it, Elizabeth declared, “I promise I won't escape. I don't want to.”

Gavin pulled her blindfold off with his teeth, scratching at the smooth skin on Elizabeth's cheek with his rough stubble. She shivered at the delicious sensations that washed through her and boldly captured his mouth in a kiss, tasting herself on his salty lips, her tongue slipping between his even, white teeth, wanting to know his taste, to remember it forever.

The voices from outside grew louder and Gavin pulled away from her eager kiss. “Direct me. Now.”

Within seconds they were traveling down a secret passage built into the thick stone walls by her early ancestors. She briefly wondered how her prisoner knew that such a thing existed, but she was tired of thinking, instead choosing to relish the comfort and safety she felt in his arms.

No man had ever held her to him as if he possessed not only her body but her soul. In Gavin's arms, she felt that no harm could come to her—unless he doled it out, of course, she reminded herself with a delicious shiver.

They traveled underneath the castle, out through the fortress that surrounded it, before Elizabeth found her tongue. “Where are you taking me?” she asked as they surfaced in a deserted thatch of trees just off a farm road. Her voice was softer than usual, her usual demanding tone replaced by a melodious quality.

Instead of answering her, Gavin, put her down on her feet in the cool moss that covered the ground. Running his hands slowly up her body, from the curve of her hips to the small of her back, up her spine, he slid her blindfold up and back over her eyes.

Elizabeth grew hot all over again, all lazy thoughts of comfort and safety gone. Oh yes, she thought with delight, he was finally going to give her that orgasm she so desperately needed. He was going to lay her down beneath the oak trees and cover her body with his.

Elizabeth was shocked when he stuffed a strip of leather into her mouth and gagged her. This wasn't part of the plan, she thought wildly. She tried to fight him, wishing she hadn't been such a slave to the demands of her body—she could have screamed for help, and now her chance of survival and escape was bleaker than ever. Her attempts were quickly made futile when Gavin wrenched her hands behind her back and tied them in a firm knot, arching her back uncomfortably, pushing her breasts out toward him.

He left her propped up against a tree and she heard him dialing a cell phone. How could he have possibly had a cell phone on him?

Elizabeth quickly put two and two together, realizing that he must have stolen hers off the table in her “game” room when he was zipping up his pants.

This is the last time that bastard gets the best of me, she vowed silently. Oh yes, he is most definitely going to pay.

Chapter Six

Gavin told his driver his hidden location and turned off the cell phone, then threw it into a thick hedge of poison oak to hide the evidence.

The Queen was standing by the oak tree, naked, bound, gagged and blindfolded. As he looked at her from several feet away—still amazed by her perfect breasts, still drawn like a moth to the flame of her hot, wet cunt—he ran his hands through his jet black hair.

What the hell am I doing? he asked himself.

He had been so blinded by his anger, by his need for revenge, that he had trespassed in the castle. But when the game had turned on him and he had become so painfully, so incredibly aroused by what the Queen was offering him, he hadn't been able to think straight anymore. No longer could he just take what he wanted from Elizabeth and then leave. So when the loud voices came from outside her perverted little game room, the next thing he knew, he had the Queen's supple, potent body in his arms and she was clinging to him as if he were her savior on a white horse, instead of the black knight about to ravish her.

But even worse, even more confusing, was the passionate kiss they had shared. The kiss she had given him. Somehow, her lips on his, her tongue flicking past his teeth into his mouth, tasting him like she had been starving for a man her whole life, only served to push his thoughts of revenge even further and further away, damn her. If only the Queen weren't so beautiful, so alluring, so in heat, he could have had his payback. He could have frightened her, taught her a valuable lesson about messing with him, and gotten the hell out of her castle.

He stared hard at her, standing with her legs slightly spread, as if she was ready to fight him, to spring at him, and he could see her clit was still swollen from his touch and from her need. He tried to remember all of the reasons he had to hate her, all of the reasons he had to watch her pay.

He willed away any softness, any sense of respect he might have had for her, and forced himself to laugh at the obvious pain of her unfinished arousal. He was certain that the Queen was used to coming on her own schedule, never on anyone else's.

A royal's prerogative perhaps?

He stripped off his borrowed shirt and wrapped it around the Queen. With a muffled grunt, she twisted and turned in his arms. Fed up with her behavior, he threw her over his shoulder and headed through the thick forest to the country road where his driver would be waiting.

Joe, his driver, barely even looked up at the sight of his boss with a nearly naked woman thrown across his shoulder. Gavin grinned. Two decades of service as the right-hand man of an undercover-agent-turned-investment specialist had definitely jaded his staff.

“Thanks for the ride, Joe,” Gavin said as he threw the Queen into the plush black leather seat in the back half of the town car.

Joe raised an eyebrow, taking in Gavin's tattered guard uniform with disgust. “How was your trial?”

Gavin shrugged. “Could have gone better.”

“Evidently. Where to?”

“The cabin.”

Gavin slipped into the backseat next to Elizabeth, letting out a sigh of exhaustion as he sat back against the seat. He longed for a few minutes of rest, but his hostage was, unfortunately, not the least bit tired.

She grunted loudly and kicked at his chest, landing a few hard blows across his body before he grabbed her ankles, imprisoning them between his large hands.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he said in a mocking voice. “We're playing by my rules now, my dear.”

She cursed him again from behind her gag and Gavin chuckled, as he pulled her supple body back onto his lap. He wondered why he had never thought of using a gag before with any of the women he had slept with. It was so much more pleasant letting his fingers roam over their bodies without worrying that they were going to ruin the moment by talking about love. Or shopping.

He slipped the large work shirt off her slim shoulders and cupped her breasts, letting her nipples escape from between his fingers. God, but he loved the feel of her breasts. Elizabeth may have been the world's biggest pain in the ass, and he was likely to face dire consequences when time ran out if he couldn't get the hell out of the country fast enough, but as far as he was concerned, it was all worth the pleasure he was getting from her body.

With Elizabeth's lean body held firm between his thighs and her breasts in his hands, Gavin finally sat back against the plush seat and closed his eyes. He would never forget how good it felt to pump his cock between her huge tits, to explode on her flushed neck. Now, with her naked body on his lap, he felt himself growing aroused again.

As soon as his hands began to massage and caress her globes, Elizabeth had become putty in his hands. He marveled at how ready she was for fucking, at how every nerve in her body seemed to be primed for a man's touch. For his touch.

He slid one of his hands down between her legs, letting his fingers dip into her moist canal. She moaned and he bit her neck, relishing the sweet taste of her flesh.

She rocked her pelvis against his fingers feverishly and he reluctantly withdrew his hand from between her thighs. Even though he could admit that he wanted to feel her tremors rock against his body, to feel her muscles clench against his fingers, she hadn't learned her lesson yet. Not nearly.

The car came to a stop and Gavin quickly covered the Queen in the shirt again. She was limp this time and as he opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight, he effortlessly picked her up in his arms again.

I could get used to the feel of her in my arms, he thought and then caught himself. How could he even be thinking soft thoughts about the Queen? She was a selfish bitch, her only redeeming quality being her incredible fuckability.

Joe drove off, leaving Gavin and Elizabeth alone. Gavin walked up the steps to the porch of his rustic ranch retreat and plopped Elizabeth down on the leather couch by the huge stone fireplace.

“Mmmphh!” she said from behind her gag.

Gavin ignored her and walked into the kitchen, taking a bottle of water out of the fridge and drinking the whole thing in one gulp. “Being out there in the stockade for so many hours gave me a mighty thirst, Your Highness.”

His voice grew lower, and laced with meaning. “But your show in the window gave me an even mightier thirst.”

Her grunts grew more impassioned and Gavin watched her as he fought with himself. He was trying not to feel sorry for her, trying to fight the urge to throw some clothes on her and send her home. Even if she was a selfish bitch, he asked himself, did she deserve to be bound, gagged and naked in his secret cottage in the middle of nowhere?

Wind rushed off the small lake behind his house and he got an idea, one that made him grin and heat up with anticipation. Picking Elizabeth back up off the couch, he headed out the back door to the lake, pleased that she wasn't fighting him anymore. Her scent was driving him crazy and he couldn't wait for the pleasure that was about to be his.

The hot sand of the shore sizzled beneath his feet and as he took several steps into the cool, shallow lake water he sighed with pleasure. Blue water beneath his feet, a beautiful naked woman in his arms. What more could a guy ask for?

He continued to walk into the lake until the water was up around his waist. He knew the Queen must have felt the water lapping up on her legs, and ass, because she started to squirm again in earnest.

“I hope you know how to swim, my dear,” he said as he dropped her into the water with a splash.

She tried to scream behind her gag and he really did feel sorry for her this time. Since he had no intention of drowning her, he decided to show a little pity for her predicament. He floated her body on his arms as he stood in the water, and watched her breasts jiggle wildly on the surface of the water.

“Don't worry,” he said, “I'm not going to let you drown. If I undo your gag, do you promise to be a good little girl?”

She nodded quickly, her strawberry-blonde hair getting wet and dark as water seeped up into it. He untied the gag and threw it onto the shore as she gasped in air. Her lips were plump and chafed from the gag and no matter how much he despised her, no matter how much he wanted to take from her body and not give back anything of himself, he couldn't resist bringing his mouth down to hers.

She sucked the moisture off his tongue and her nipples became sharp points against his bare chest as his light dusting of hair scratched against her breasts. He groaned into her mouth and the sound merged with her own moan of pleasure.

It took everything he had in him to pull back from her sweet mouth. God, he wanted to devour the woman, body and soul. He had never reacted to any woman like he reacted to this one. Reminding himself that he didn't even like her, even if his cock liked her better than any other woman alive, he worked to still the beating of his heart. It was time to get back to his plans for revenge.

She was going to have to beg for his forgiveness before he would give her the one thing she needed—a thorough fucking and a mind-blowing orgasm.

He focused his attention on her huge tits, on the areolas that were puckered up tight, on the nipples that drew his mouth to them. He held her firmly on top of the water with one arm, letting it support most of her body weight, and suckled at one breast as his free hand plumped and caressed the other one. The gentle waves of the lake worked her body up and down in the water and his cock pressed up against her ass.

He couldn't believe how close he was to blowing again. “You're a witch,” he growled, feeling as if she had put him under a deep, dark spell, where with just the barest touch of her flesh she controlled his cock completely.

Obviously as aroused as he was, Elizabeth had turned her face into his chest and was nibbling at his nipple, pleading, “More. Give me more.” He wondered if he should undo the bindings on her hands, wondering what magic she would work with those slender, red-tipped fingers on his body.

No, he would keep her wrists tied up. He liked knowing that she was fragile and that her welfare depended entirely on him and his whims. But even more so, he had a feeling that much of her arousal stemmed from being a prisoner to him. Even though he was intent on revenge, he couldn't bring himself to ruin her fun, especially if it meant more fun for him.

She ran hot, nipping kisses down his chest, her mouth moving lower and lower until it was almost underwater, and Gavin knew what she was offering him. Backing up into shallower water, until his cock sprang free from the water, glistening with a mixture of droplets and his pre-come, her tongue finally found purchase as her lips and mouth opened to take in his fully engorged head.

“Oh god,” he groaned as she licked and sucked at him, taking his shaft deep down her throat. Using the water as leverage, he pumped her mouth back and forth on his cock. She sucked greedily at him, like a baby to a bottle, and his fingers found her wet and plump and ready between her legs. He pushed his fingers in and out of her in the same rhythm that her lips and throat suctioned him.

In what he was sure was his final moment of sanity, he pushed her body away from his with enough force that she was sprawled up on the sandy shore. She lurched towards him, her hands still bound behind her, her eyes unable to see the beautiful mountains surrounding his private lake.

“Please,” she begged. “I'll give you anything.”

Gavin longed to take her in his arms again, to let her be free and supple and passionate in his arms.

“Shit,” he said, unable to believe that he was about to give up on getting payback, unable to comprehend how one sweet, hot pussy and a pair of incredible tits could sway him from his course.

She fell into the water as she tried to come after him. Gavin came to her aid, scooping her up into his arms again. She was drawn like a magnet to his lips. He could feel her breath on his face as she said, “I'll tell everyone that I was wrong. I'll appoint you to any post, give you money, jewels.”

“No,” he growled as her breasts rose and fell against his chest. “I only want this.”

He captured her mouth in an aggressive kiss, knowing he was hurting her, but she came at him with the same intensity. He undid the ties at her wrists and her hands came up and around his back, pulling him to her in the shallow water. He ripped off her blindfold as he mounted her, desperate to see her pupils dilate and contract when her orgasm ripped through her.

With Elizabeth lying in no more than six inches of water, Gavin roughly spread her thighs open with his knees and surged into her, hard and long. Their hips bucked wildly together as Gavin got what he had been longing for, what he knew Elizabeth had wanted from the moment she laid eyes on him in the courtroom. He felt her muscles clench around him, knew that she was going to come, knew that he was about to explode in her tight, hot pussy.

He stilled, and pulled his shaft out of her until just the head rested against her folds. The world stopped spinning as she opened her startling blue eyes, bluer than any lake or cloudless sky, sparkling brighter than any gem ever had, and said, “I'm sorry, Gavin.”

With a groan, he seized her mouth again and slowly slid into her snug canal, relishing the feel of her warmth as it surrounded him, knowing that nothing else would ever compare to this moment.

She cried out and as she milked him, her inner muscles strong and pulsating, he pulled away from her lips and bent his head down and bit into her shoulder, tasting her blood on his lips as his ears roared and his cock exploded into her.

They lay panting in the shallow water, his body covering hers. Elizabeth wrapped her arms and legs around him and gave a contented sigh.

What the hell have I just done? Gavin asked himself as he came to. He was lying atop the Queen, having just spilled his seed into her, all plans for revenge gone. And what the hell am I going to do now?

Moving quickly, he pulled away from Elizabeth and stood up. She blinked up at him, her vision coming into focus on him.

“Where are we going?” she asked him as he reached for her hand to pull her up.

Ignoring the way the sunlight played off her supple skin, her golden-red hair, the tips of her huge breasts, he marched towards the house. “You're going home.”

She pulled back on his hand and tried to dig her heels into the sand. “No.”

He whipped around. “Yes.”

She shook her head. “I don't want to go back. I want to stay here with you.”

Her mouth had turned down into a pout and Gavin found himself almost feeling sorry for her again. No, he couldn't let himself fall for her games. She would be the death of both of them if he let her, but especially him. She'd be fine and he'd be the one hanging from the rafters by his nuts.

Ignoring her, he headed inside and picked up the nearest phone. “Come get her, Joe,” he barked. He headed into his bedroom and grabbed a shirt and some pants from his armoire.

When he returned, she was standing, dripping and sandy, in the middle of his living room and it was as if all the fight had gone out of her. He hated to see her like that and felt guilty and mean as he handed her the clothes.

Gruffly, he said, “Put those on. My driver is going to take you back home.”

She put on his clothes and he thought she looked like a little kid playing dress up. Only this time it wasn't all fun and games.

He didn't want to touch her again, didn't trust himself to be within five miles of her and not touch her again, so he was damn glad when he heard the car on the dirt and gravel driveway in front of the house.

He held open the front door for her. “Goodbye, Your Highness.”

He thought she was going to cry for a moment, but then just as quickly the softness was gone. Staring straight ahead, her shoulders straight, she walked past him, through the door, and got into the car.

Gavin told himself he was thankful that she was going to be out of his life forever. And as he arranged to leave the country on the next flight, he worked to convince himself that he was telling the truth.

Chapter Seven

Elizabeth lay in her bathtub, finally, blessedly alone. Ever since she had returned to the castle, she had been bombarded with questions from her guards, from her staff, from her counselor. It seemed that everyone and their dog had been informed of her disappearance.

After five hours of calming everyone down, after five hours of keeping her time with Gavin deep within her like a precious secret, she pled a migraine and retreated to her private quarters.

More than one of her guards had offered to accompany her to her suite, but she had been completely disinterested in their services. For the first time since she had discovered the joy of sex, she found that she could only think of one man.

Gavin Court.

She ran a soapy sponge up her legs and thought back to the pain that had pierced her after Gavin threw her out of his cabin, out of his life. Forever.

“Go home,” he had said and so, trying to salvage what was left of her pride, she got into the car without a backwards glance.

After what seemed like an endless drive, where she was sure that Gavin's driver was going in circles, he had pulled over near what looked to be an abandoned red barn.

“This is your stop, Your Highness,” the man said, his voice lacking any inflection whatsoever.

Her head held high, she opened the door and stepped out of the car as if she were stepping out of her carriage for a royal gala. She had barely been able to keep her lips and teeth clenched together, she had been so desperate to ask questions about Gavin, so desperate to beg Joe to take her back to the only man who had ever looked into her eyes and truly seen her. Instead she held onto the last vestiges of her self-respect and said nothing.

A farmer emerged several minutes later and recognized her as the missing Queen. He called the palace and her guards came in a long black limo. More than she had ever wanted anything before, she wanted to find Gavin's cottage, to get down on her knees and beg him to love her. What she felt in his arms, what she saw in his eyes, was unlike anything she had ever known.

Being with him as an equal was even more potent than being in control of her kingdom.

Pleasuring him was far more wonderful than wielding her power over anyone and everyone.

But she was the Queen and she knew what was expected of her, so she schooled her expression into one of superiority and confidence and held it that way until she felt that her face would crack under the strain.

Now, as the water in her bath grew cool, she ran her fingers down the swell of her breasts and cupped them, remembering how reverently, how single-mindedly Gavin had caressed them. Even when he was trying to punish her for locking him up in the stockade, she felt beautiful and amazing and perfect to him.

She lightly touched the mark on her shoulder that he had made on her as he came, and wished that it would never heal over, that she could have some visual reminder of him for always.

As she ran the soapy cloth between her legs, a tear escaped her and rolled slowly down her face. She threw down the cloth and dried off, too tired to masturbate, too depressed by her future, by a future without Gavin, to do anything more than take two sleeping pills and fall into bed.

Her dreams were colorful and wonderful as Gavin made love to her again and again in a field of wildflowers, and then terrible and painful, as he was taken from her and beaten while she watched him suffer, unable to help him.

She woke feverish and damp, her whole body shivering.

“I need to find him,” she whispered in the dark cold bedroom. “I can't live without him.”

The next morning she gave instructions to her guards to find Gavin, no matter what the cost. She made it clear that they were to treat him well, to bring him to her unharmed, or they would face dire consequences.

But she hadn't moved fast enough. All traces of Gavin Court were gone. He had left the country, moved his business, his home, everything. After a month, Elizabeth finally called off the search.

It was over. He was gone.

* * * * *

Gavin had settled in Paris and was back to business in less than twenty-four hours. He worked tirelessly at his investment strategies, grabbing an hour or two of sleep when he absolutely needed it, and eating only because Joe brought him food.

His bank account grew by leaps and bounds, but still, he couldn't deny that something was missing.

Namely, his heart.

Even though four weeks had passed since his time with the Queen—twenty-eight endless torturous days turning into night—he had been unable to erase her from his memory. He swore he could taste her on his lips, that the sky was the color of her eyes, the sunset the exact shade of her nipples. At night he woke in the throes of wet, hot dreams, hard and throbbing, aching for her flesh to surround him.

It was no use. No matter how he tried to convince himself that he hadn't fallen for her, he had.

He showered and finally shaved off the beard he had been growing since he had watched Joe drive her away from him.

Joe looked up from his computer in the front room. “You finally come to your senses?”

Gavin grinned, the expression unfamiliar on his face after a month of scowling. “Yup.”

“Say hi to her for me,” his trusted assistant said as he turned back to his computer.

Gavin felt a renewed spring in his step as he got ready to head back to Magonia to break into the Queen's castle. Again.

* * * * *

Upon waking, Elizabeth decided that she had indulged her heartbreak long enough. It was time to get back to her normal routine, to the perfect order of her world before Gavin had stood up in her courtroom and sent her spinning off into a crazy, selfish whirl. And she knew just the thing that would get her back on track.

She had avoided her sexual game room ever since her return to the castle, and as she put her hand on the lever by the side of the fireplace, she felt slightly sick to her stomach. She had arranged for two of her men to meet her in ten minutes for a revival of their usual fuck-sessions—two of her guards had quit in the past month, in fact, due to her unusual celibacy since her kidnapping.

Elizabeth forced herself to walk into the room and to take off her clothes. Lying back on the ancient rack, trying to force away her memories of Gavin touching her, of Gavin taunting her, of Gavin loving her with a desperation that matched her own, she tied the blindfold over her eyes.

But she was no match for her memories. She wished she could go back to the day when he escaped from the prison, when he showed her what true passion felt like. She wished she could feel his tongue lap at her lips one more time. She wished she could explain to him why she did the things she did. But most of all, she wished she could force him to accept her apology, so that he would love her.

She could hardly bear the thought of her guards touching her, but she didn't know any other way to ease the ache, the hole in her body and heart that Gavin had left her with.

As the minutes crept by, her anxiety rose. She couldn't go through with it, she decided, and was about to get up off the rack and get on with her miserable day, when she heard a door open. But not the usual door.

The secret door.

Her heart racing, she lay back on the rack. He had come for her. Everything was going to be all right.

Her nipples puckered as she waited for Gavin to approach her, to touch her as only he could.

“The straps are on the table,” she said and within seconds her wrists and ankles were spread and tied to the four corners of the rack. Gavin blew lightly on her breasts and the skin across them grew impossibly tight.

“Am I hurting you?” he said, his voice gentle and easy.

Elizabeth smiled, enjoying their game more than she had enjoyed anything since Gavin had plunged his huge cock into her in the lake a month ago. “Who are you?” she asked, breathy with excitement.

Instead of answering her, Gavin's tongue lapped in long, firm strokes from her anus to her clit again and again. Elizabeth grew slick and engorged with wanting him, her hungry flesh desperate for his cock.

On the verge of release, Gavin removed his hot mouth from her mons. Her whimpers of need were drowned out by his mouth on hers, licking and sucking at her lips, filling her with her own taste and scent.

Still kissing her, he took off her blindfold.

“I am,” he said softly as he looked deep into her eyes, seeing all the way down into her very soul, “the man who loves you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered before his mouth claimed hers again and took her breath away.

Cupping her butt cheeks with his large, rough hands, he straddled her hips and positioned the head of his swollen cock between her spread thighs. Bending his head down, he suckled her nipples softly as he slid in an inch, then two, then harder and harder as he impaled her with his full, hard length.

And as she came beneath him in their new private game room, the Queen finally got exactly what she wanted.

THE END

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