Page 21 of Taken By the Barbarian King

He pushes aside the fabric covering one breast to suck a nipple deep into his mouth. I arch into the wet heat and shudder when he bites down lightly. He smooths one hand down my hip, then between us to finger at my pussy.

“So wet for me already.”

“Always,” I breathe and as soon as the word leaves my mouth, I know. I want always with him. I want forever.

He wastes no time in pushing two fingers deep inside me, curling them up to massage that sensitive spot that never fails to drive me wild.

“Thundar, please. Don’t tease.”

He chuckles. “For you, my princess, anything.”

Lifting his loincloth, he takes his cock and slides into my pussy in one continuous motion. We both pant, savoring the connection. He’s so big, and he fills me so completely. I feel like I’m skewered on him, and honestly, I think I’m getting addicted to the feeling.

There’s something I’m supposed to tell him. Something he needs to know.

But then he rears up, banishing every rational thought from my mind.

He takes my ankles in his hands, hoisting them up to his shoulders. His hair floats down, two locks encircling my nipples, and a third wrapping around my clit. Then he fucks me, driving his cock into my quivering, abused pussy. His hair squeezes and pulls on my nipples, rubs against my clit. The combined sensations are too much and it doesn’t take long before my orgasm crashes through me. Thundar follows soon after with a roar, flooding my pussy with his cum.

After, when we’ve both finally caught our breaths, I groan.

“Uh, I need to bathe again before we land.”

“No, I want you like this, smelling like me, dripping with my essence.”

I give him a gentle slap on his arm. “Such a barbarian.”

He grunts in response.

It should gross me out, meeting a whole new alien race with his cum running down my legs. But I guess it’s a testament to how far I’ve come that the idea doesn’t really bother me. Huh. Weird.

But there is still that one thing.

“Um, Thundar, darling, there’s something we need to talk about.”

He hums sleepily, one hand drifting down between my legs like my pussy is some fidget spinner he can’t resist playing with. “Don’t worry, my princess, it is a mark of a mighty warrior to bring home a bride who has been visibly debauched.”

There’s so much wrong with that statement that I don’t even know where to begin. But that’s a conversation for another day.

I extricate myself from Thundar. We’ll never get through this if he’s continually distracted by sex. “Please, this is important.”

That gets through to him. His gaze grows sharp and his expression grows concerned. “What is it, Lottie?”

I wince when he uses my name. I sit up and Thundar does too.

“Actually, about that. So, you know how Lottie is my nickname?”

“Yes, your full name is Alexandra Winifred Lillian Anne, Princess of Wales, but your friends call you Lottie.”

I grimace. I can’t believe he knows Alexandra’s full name. Most people in the UK don’t even know her second name is Winifred. Winifred. Poor thing. At least it’s only a middle name.

“No, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’m not Alexandra. I’m Charlotte, Alexandra’s personal assistant.”

Thundar stares at me and for a second I wonder whether our translators are malfunctioning.

“You’re not Alexandra,” he finally says with a hardness in his voice that I’ve never heard before, not even when he first stalked into the mating chambers all pompous and arrogant.

“No, I work–worked–for her.” Guilt eats away at my stomach, making me a little nauseous and a lot woozy.

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