My husband, the tyrant king, demands an heir, and what the king demands, the king receives. My husband shall have an heir to his throne. But it won't be his.
Princess Kathryn and her knight Charles have the picture perfect storybook love. When an intruder to the kingdom wages war and seizes the throne, he tears the two lovers apart by marrying Kathryn. Now the usurper wants Kathryn to bear an heir and secure his place on the throne. Kathryn hatches a risky plan. If she succeeds, Charles and she may come to reunite despite their hardship and suffering, but if she fails…the results will be deadly.
Will Kathryn endanger herself for a chance at what was? And if she does, will she find that their trials have changed Charles and her too much for them to ever return to the way they were before?
Includes breeding sex, adultery, and a chance of getting caught in the act in this 6,500 word scorching tale. Intended for adults only.
He says nothing, and once again I find myself blinking back tears. This is my only hope--our only hope. Can he not see that? I place my hand on his thigh and glance pleadingly into his eyes.
"Charles," I say. "We were in love once. Bards sang tales of our pure and perfect love throughout the kingdom. We were promised to marry. Can you not find something deep inside you for what we once were?"
"That promise has been long forgotten, and our love will never be pure again," he says. He purses his lower lip and glances away. "Hell, we can give them new tales to sing. The old ones were becoming rather dull anyhow."
He seizes my face with both of his hands and presses his lips to mine. The kiss starts off gentle and soft, and I feel as though I am once again returning to something I knew from long ago. The passing time has warped the memory so that the kiss feels both familiar and a touch foreign at the same time.
I wrap my arms around his neck and his hand slides to the back of my head. He pulls me closer to him and I lose my balance, toppling onto his lap. I pour everything I have into the tender kiss and melt into his strong grasp.
What starts off slow and deliberate turns fierce and insistent and so forceful it almost bites. His hands tangle in my tresses and tug them loose from where they are pinned beneath my headdress. So hot are his lips and so powerful his grip that I barely feel the prickling at my scalp as he yanks my hair.
About Prudence Sinclaire
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Published October 11, 2012
Erotica, Literature & Fiction, History.