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Virgin Bride(137)

By:B. B. Hamel


“You haven’t been king long, Your Highness. And nobody said ruling was easy or fun.”

“You’re very right, Max, which is why maybe finding my queen should be those things.”

He sighed. “Very well. I see your point.”

“Clear my morning.”

“As you wish.”

I stood up, grinning at him. “I have important business to attend to.”

He sighed, shook his head, and left my room.



I walked down the halls shadowed by my usual guard detail.

“Al,” I called out. He stepped up next to me.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“What do you think of our guest?”

“Which guest, sir?”

“The girl. Bryce.”

“She seems nice, sir.”

I laughed. “You wouldn’t say otherwise, though, would you?”

“I would be honest with my king.”

“Of course.” I laughed again. “And what do the people think of her?”

“I’ve heard mixed opinions.” He cleared his throat. “Men seem to respect her. Women seemed to be jealous of her.”

“Good. I can work with that.” I dismissed him with a wave as we approached her door.

I took a deep breath. I couldn’t help but imagine her answering the door wearing nothing but the boxing gloves and the panties. I knocked once, hoping she would, and hoping the guards had enough sense to stand back.

She opened after a second. I felt a little disappointed to note that she was wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a gray hooded sweatshirt.

“Your Majesty,” she said, although it sounded sarcastic.

“Good morning, Bryce,” I said.

“What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to give you that tour.”

She sighed. “Do I have much choice?”

“You always have a choice. You can sit here in your room all day, bored, or you can come spend the morning with the most interesting king in the world.”

She cracked a smile, but it was quickly gone. “Okay, fine. Let me get my shoes on.”

She walked back into her room and went over to her shoes.

“I’ll show you the throne room first,” I said.

“Throne room? You actually have a throne?”

“Of course. We don’t really use it anymore, though. Turns out a King sitting on a throne doesn’t really play that well anymore.”

She laughed slightly as she bent over to tie her shoes. As she did, her sweatshirt rode up her back slightly and her pants pulled down a hair, revealing the top of her panties.

They were black and lace.

The pair I had sent her last night.

My cock was instantly hard as my heart started to hammer in my chest. She was wearing the panties I’d sent her. I couldn’t help but picture her sliding them up her skin, slowly brushing them against her legs, only to end up against her already wet pussy.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, turning to look at me, and as our eyes met, I knew she knew.

She’d done it on purpose. The whole shoes thing was just her way of showing me she was wearing them.

A huge grin broke out across my face. “Sorry. I’m easily distracted by pretty things.”

She smiled back. “I bet it’s hard to be the king then.” She finished tying her shoes and then straightened up. “Ready?”

“Let’s go.” We headed out of the room together, and I felt like I was flying high.

Bryce was a fascinating creature. I couldn’t put those panties out of my head, even for a second. I knew she liked to pretend she hated me, and yet she still wore them. Maybe just to taunt me, but still.

I was willing to bet they were dripping wet and ruined already.





9





Bryce





I loved the look on his face as I straightened up. He was completely surprised and thrown off guard, and I couldn’t help but smile at it.

If he was going to play games, then I could play too. He sent me those panties probably assuming they would get me fired up, and at first, they did.

But I quickly realized that if I was going to get through the next weeks, then I couldn’t give into his provocations. I had to try to keep it cool and even play the game right back if possible.

So wearing the panties and conveniently needing to get my shoes on in front of him was all part of my plans. King asshole wanted to play games, but he didn’t know what I had in store for him.

We walked together out of my room and headed down the hallway. The security detail, three big, nondescript men, one of which I recognized as Al from the night before, followed at a respectful distance but still close.

“Are they always following you around?” I asked Trip.

“More or less,” he said. “But we can lose them if you want.”