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Chapter 1
David
“Fffffuck.”
My cock stiffens in the little slut’s hands, and she strokes it quickly, licking up the droplets of cum escaping its head.
This is one thing I’ll always take advantage of as King. Hell, I took advantage of it as prince, too. But the endless sea of eager wet pussies willing and wanting to devour my cock will never get old.
I mean, fuck, this palace maid practically begged to suck my dick and, for me to fuck her, and I haven’t even had my fucking tea yet. But who needs tea when your maid can find something more effective for getting you up, am I right?
“Do you like that, sir?” The maid, on her knees, looks up at me through her thick eyelashes and pulls my twelve-inch cock back into her mouth. She gags at the impact, and I force myself not to laugh.
I can appreciate what she’s doing but fuck, right now I can’t help thinking, don’t fucking choke on my dick, broad. I can see the fucking headline now.
She continues to do her work, sucking and licking me like I’m a fucking Popsicle. It’s like she’s making sure to lick up every inch of me before I melt or something. An interesting technique, but quite frankly, it’s a bit hurried for my taste.
But fuck, it’ll do for now.
I lean my bare ass on my desk, and revel at the sight of her sucking me off with the background of my estate behind her.
God, it feels so fucking good to be King. I can definitely get used to this view.
You’re probably thinking right now, who the fuck is this guy?
Well, loves, I’m King David fucking Lockridge. Some call me the embodiment of a woman’s wet dream.
Sounds cocky, doesn’t it? Well, I didn’t say it. I’m just repeating facts.
Trust me, I don’t fit the traditional King stereotype. I’m six-foot-five and built like a fucking Viking. In addition to making woman cum with the snap of my fingers, I’ve been named the Sexist Man Alive since I became legal for them to get off to.
Still too cocky for you? Well, loves, I hate to break it to you—I’m very fucking cocky. I have twelve-inches of thick, throbbing cock and I fucking know how to use it.
How can you not be a little arrogant when you look like me—all blonde hair, green eyes, and a body that looks like fucking Michelangelo himself carved it from marble? You’d have to be a saint to not boast about it. And if you haven’t figured it out by now, a saint is the last fucking thing I am.
It’s one of the things I’m most known for. Just look at the amount of smut the tabloids write regarding my various endeavors, mostly rooted in debauchery.
Debaucherous Prince David, that’s my name, and it’s what my reputation is based on.
I fucking love it.
But apparently, some smoke show from New York is going to come and try to fix me. My advisors decided that a PR consultant…or whatever the fuck she’s called, will be a wise addition to the team. Her work is supposed to improve my credibility with the Cabinet and approval rate with the commonwealth.
Blah, blah, bullshit. Apparently to be a King, you can’t have a flavorful past. Or so, they say.
I don’t fucking care, regardless. Though I’m excited to see that tight ass of hers boss me around. I’ve seen pictures of hard-ass Vivienne Taylor when I was doing my research, of course, and fuck, she’s hot.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t already jerked off thinking about her.
Hey, what can I say? A man has needs, and she can surprisingly fulfill those even with a pond between us.
“Ahh…fuck!”
The maid grazes her fucking teeth on my shaft.
Fucking hell.
I pick the little thing up from the ground and bend her over the desk.
