Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
She looks up at me like I’m the only man in existence.
For her, that’s exactly what I am.
“I believe in you, Commander,” she whispers, her fingers busy twisting the lapels of my shirt. “Come home, so I can call you my husband.”
Another spray of bliss catches me off guard and I fall against her, shuddering, my joy over being referred to as husband pooling on the floor while she gasps in delight, cooing into my neck and praising her Daddy’s stamina and size.
“Fuck a month,” I pant, shaken. “I’ll be back in two weeks.”
Greta
I’m taking a bath when there’s a knock at my bedroom door.
“Princess Greta.”
I recognize the voice of one my mother’s assistants, but there’s something different in his tone of voice. Something that has me rising from the bath, water and suds sluicing down my torso and legs. It sounds almost like…gravity. Excitement.
“Yes?” I call, quickly reaching for a towel.
“The commander has returned.”
My eyes fill with hot tears, a pressure descending on my chest. I let out a gulping sob and leap from the tub, drying off with haphazard hands and donning a royal blue silk robe. I’m shaking so severely, I can barely function, my heart bursting with relief and joy. We’ve been getting updates on the progress in the north and Conrad’s presence has indeed made all the difference, our forces pushing the rebels back to the northern border, the threat diminished in a matter of weeks.
I’ve missed him in a way that should be examined by science. I have been a helium-filled balloon with no string, bobbing aimlessly, trying not to think of him being wounded or worse, forced to sedate myself on several occasions, the crushing fear of him not returning became so difficult to control. My soul misses him. My body aches and grows wet at night without relief, his scent on my sheets the only thing anchoring me to reality.
Now, I run barefoot down the hallway in nothing but my robe, my hair coming loose from the bun I’d fashioned on the top of my head, gasping sobs issuing from some deep, dark, lonely well inside of me. I reach the stairs and bolt down them at a breakneck pace, turning on a dime at the bottom, bypassing my horrified mother to get outside.
Get to Conrad as fast as possible, by any means necessary.
There he is, limping and disheveled, just after climbing from a military vehicle. He’s grown a beard and there’s an air of weariness about him, but it vanishes as soon as he sees me. His heart leaps into his eyes and he stalks haltingly in my direction, opening his arms. “Greta,” he whispers, then his voice lifts to a shout. “Greta.”
I throw myself into his arms, clinging to him like a second skin, legs around his waist. His face buries in my neck, inhaling my scent with a desperation that only makes me hold him tighter. “You’re back. You’re back. You came back to me.”
“Of course I did.” His kisses race up the side of my neck, his hands burrowing in my hair to tilt my head, making room for his mouth. “I don’t break promises to my princess.”
“No, you don’t. That’s only one of the reasons I love you.”
“I love you, too, baby. And you dared to grow more beautiful while I was slaying the men who put a brand on your precious skin?” He growls against my ear before lowering his voice to a rasping whisper. “As soon as I get a few things straightened out, I’m going to tie you to your fancy princess bed and eat your tight pussy until the horrors of war fade from my mind and there’s only you, my perfect girl.”
“I won’t let you think of them,” I whisper, nuzzling his nose with mine, sipping at his mouth. “And I won’t hear of my pleasure coming first. I’m going to bathe you and feed you and ride your cock all night, because that’s what a hero deserves.” We groan into a kiss that leaves me trembling in his arms. “That’s what my husband deserves.”
He hisses through his teeth, followed by a choked sound, color suffusing his face. “You know what that title does to me, Greta.”
“Do I?” I say innocently, biting my lip.
With that, Conrad is marching toward the entrance of the palace, and I know I’m minutes from being ravaged like a virgin sacrifice on my back. I guess the hero’s treatment will have to wait, now that I’ve provoked him. How terrible.
Before Conrad can carry me inside, he calls to my mother. “Get a priest here by tonight. I’ve kept my vow to you, now I’m keeping the princess.”
She salutes him. “That was the plan all along, you know,” she sings to Conrad’s retreating back. “Thank you for following it.”