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Henry could not help but feel lifted by her words. There had been many firsts for him these past few days. He was beginning to realize it was also a first that he felt something so powerful for a woman. And not just any woman, either. Her Majesty The Queen. The revered, respected, unquestioned Queen. She evoked such visceral emotions in him that he wondered if his profound craving was lust alone, or if he was obscenely infatuated with her.
He had to have her, to possess her, to make her his. This seemed impossible, but he needed her, in a way he had never needed anyone or anything before in his life. She was a breath away and leaning closer. Henry could feel the heat emanating from her body as her stunning blue eyes appraised him with yearning. He took in her musk, and his organ stirred in response, so fierce a sensation her scent roused in him.
"Henry," she whispered, her warm breath on his mouth, her fingertips grazing his arms. He fought the urge to reach out and pull her to him, musing if she would condone his disobedience now that he'd won her challenge.
"Is this what you wanted?" she sighed in his ear, and slid her hand over his organ, tugging him nearer to the bed, making him gasp, but she released him quickly.
"Yes, My Queen," he whispered. Henry tried to breathe, having imagined this moment for many years, but never so vividly as these last few days tied up in his chamber.
Turning toward him, The Queen slipped her fingers into the straps of her dress, the cerulean fabric cascading down her body to fall into a gentle heap at her feet. Henry's eyes greedily drank in her milky flesh, the curves of her hips, the valley between her full breasts. He stepped closer to her, unclasping his hands from behind his back. The Queen leaned into him, her warm and bare flesh sweeping against his erection, as silky as her dress had felt.
Henry ran his hand down the Queen's back, gently cupping her round and fleshy buttocks, and lifted her up onto the bed, climbing next to her on his side. He brushed a strand of wavy hair out of her shocking blue eyes as she stared up at him, smiling. He realized they had both been counting on Henry to win her challenge, and this notion empowered him greatly.
He covered her pliant mouth with his own, his hands traveling over the contours of her body as she sighed contentedly against his lips. He slid his leg between her parted thighs, his mouth everywhere at once, all over her neck, the tops of her breasts, gratefully suckling each of her perfect nipples in turn. Henry stared up at her enraptured expression as he moved his hand along her smooth inner thigh, up toward her secret pink lips. The intensity of her moist heat beneath his fingertips enlivened him as he rubbed her gently, making Her Majesty's eyes flutter shut.
Henry was in disbelief that The Queen was now spread out for him in all of her natural glory, shivering beneath his touch. This fortified him, his lips impatiently moving to replace his curious fingertips, discovering The Queen tasted like warm strawberries. His tongue rubbed her small hooded bud, his fingers slipping into her, the same way he'd watched Lillith and Madeleine pleasure her and each other. The Queen writhed beneath his touch, gripping his fingers from the inside, silently urging him to continue.
He pulled himself up her body and she kissed him deeply, without a hint of shyness, tasting herself on his lips. The throbbing head of his thickness was poised right at the entrance of her femininity. She gripped his back, her eyes on his, coaxing him to slide into her, both of them gasping as he finally penetrated her. The Queen's warmth enveloped him, and he fit inside of her with a perfection he never imagined possible.
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