Page 49 of Royally Drawn

“More,” she moaned. “I want more.”

I couldn’t go again—not this soon or after being so knackered from being out in the rain and slogging through the mud all day. Even I had limits.

I slid another finger inside her. She moaned louder.

“More,” she begged.

By this point, I had four fingers inside her, my palm slapping against her pelvis. She swung her hips up towards me, showing me, she was close again. Ingrid came so beautifully. She was still in those early days when the novelty of sex was far from gone. But the way she directed me, you’d never know it was so new. She knew what she wanted and how to ask for it. I knew how to please her.

“I’ll come to Wales. Oh, Keir, don’t fucking stop! I’m… I’m…”

She came tight around my fingers, gripping my wrist with one hand, her hair tight in the other. So, shedidlike her hair pulled. I noted it. Satisfied, I pulled my fingers slowly from her swollen pussy. She watched me, still panting and beside herself with pleasure.

“You think I’m wrapped around your finger, but you’re willing to waste it all for a booty call,” I said.

“No, my stakes are low,” she said. “And you’re willing to do just about anything for a taste.”

As if in agreement, I licked her taste from my fingers. That part wasn’t wrong. I was. And while the stakeswerehigher for me, defiling her was my new favourite pastime.

Velcro

INGRID

Irode a fine round in the stadium, leading to a ninetieth place in the finish. It wasn’t painful watching Cici get the big prize. Queen Natalie beamed as she presented the trophy to her niece. It was hard-won for a princess from a small country. I beamed with pride alongside Betty, so happy to see Cici grab this achievement. Her season would now take a massive pause as she readied for her wedding.

Unfortunately, Keir didn’t get to stay. He knew Cici would probably win when he left, but there was no time to stick around. He had orders to be somewhere with Duncan early the next day. He sent me a text apologising for leaving. He congratulated Cici but then was on his way. His leaving was followed by Duncan, who looked bored. Keir was genuinely happy for us. His face telegraphed his regret.

Disappointed not to have another night with him, I packed to head back to Norfolk in the morning. We’d get a well-deserved rest and turn our horses out for a week’s break. I’d ride my greenest horse instead, trying to get her head on straight. She was the type with oodles of potential but no chill.

While I did all of that, I would play that image of Keir licking me off his fingers on repeat. At night, I couldn’t help but touch myselfthinking about him. He loved thetasteof me. It was so dirty but so sexy. I’d never even imagined a man would care—let alone want to do such a thing. I frantically pleasured myself as if desperate to get it out of my system.

Try as I may, it didn’t. The house was quiet for the week. I used my shower head forfarmore than washing more times than I would admit. I thought about the way he gripped my hips, slapped my ass, and pressed my head into the pillow. I loved the way heownedme in those moments. I wanted to be owned, to be his. I didn’t desire a relationship but all of him—every last inch of him ploughing into me with great force.

Friday finally rolled around. I packed myself up for a weekend lounging around the house and looked forward to flying with him somewhere. That was sexy, right?

He sent a car for me, natch. I was surprised when I had to hand my driver’s licence over at the gate of a military base and ride to what I thought was a runway. Keir was there talking to someone in uniform and turned as I approached.

“Velcro, you made it!”

I cocked my head.

“I was just telling Rowan your callsign should be Velcro, Ingrid,” he explained.

I suspected the guy in a uniform was Rowan.

“Callsign?” I asked, confused.

The driver brought my bag forward, but I barely saw him. I was too focused on the odd, old plane before me. Certainly, this wasn’t the plane we were taking. This must have been Rowan’s.

“What you’re called over the radio,” Rowan said. “You don’t choose it. I heard you rode some bucking horse last weekend?”

“He wasn’t bucking at all. He was a very good boy. Stock still,” I explained. “We landed poorly. I pulled myself back on and kept going.”

Did he brag about me?That was promising.

“Well, we should head out. Gotta get back to Valley,” Keir said. “Hopefully, before traffic gets too bad.”

“Have a good one, mate. Nice to meetyou, Velcro.”

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