Princes of Legacy (Royals of Forsyth University, #9)

by Angel Lawson

If we were more patient men, we’d wait until she’s had the baby to try anything adventurous. We’re not patient men.

she looked like a goddess in that dress, but here? Naked? Fuck me. She’s so ripe and swollen, full with life—creation—and the urge to sink into her isn’t just a want. It’s a primal need.

“You’re gonna straddle me like a good girl, and then I’m going to lick your pussy just how you like it.”

He spoke the words earlier tonight, declaring himself Justice’s father, but saying and believing are two different things. The way he looks at her—worships her—I have no doubt he meant every word.

“He any good at that?” I wonder, nipping at her earlobe. “Wick’s sucked my dick a few times, but it was mostly just so I’d suck his. No skillmanship whatsoever.” The hand on her hip lifts, Wicker’s middle finger extending.

this. If tonight proved anything, it’s that whatever we do—scheme, fight, kill, love, or create—we do it together.

When she’s good and stretched, I nudge Wick’s hand away and slot my head at her entrance, and the next time she thrusts back, I push in, intending to seamlessly keep the pace. But she fucking screams. I freeze, terrified I’ve hurt her, but the first strong tremor, ass clenching like a vise around me, makes it obvious she’s not hurt. She’s coming her fucking brains out.

She’s slick from my mouth and the juices from her orgasm, but the tight feel of Pace’s cock buried in her ass is something else. Awed, I ask him, “You feel that?” We’ve never been inside the same chick before—certainly not one we call our own—and it’s fucking intense, the pressure and heat all-encompassing. “I feel it,” he grunts, thrusting in at the same time I do. “I feel your cock. Fuck, Wick.” I almost bust my nut right there. “You hear that?” I ask, cupping her warm cheeks in my hands. “It’s like we’re fucking inside of you.”

Reveling in how overcome she looks from it all, I guide her upward, directing her to fall. I can feel just how deep or shallow Pace and I can go, and it doesn’t matter that it’s too close, not enough drag of resistance to really feel it along my whole shaft. Watching her full tits sway as Verity rides the both of us is easily the most mind-blowing fucking thing that’s probably ever happened to me.

“Pace was right before,” Lex whispers, leaning in just above my head to push a slow, wet kiss to her swollen lips. “You look like a fucking goddess, taking them both. I bet you feel so crowded, don’t you? Do you want it harder, baby?”

Lex reaches out to brush a damp lock of hair from her cheek. “Take what you need.” Which is real sweet and special and whatever-the-fuck, but he’s holding her fat titty right in front of my face, and my whole world becomes narrowed down to the droplet of milk beading at the tip of her nipple. I lick my lips. This strange, almost primal urge to consume—to preserve—is a new bit of mindfuckery that I lean all the way into. But Lex, somehow sensing this, is the one to guide it to my mouth. “You too, little brother. Take what you need.”

“God, Wick,” she whines, threading her fingers into my hair. “What are you three doing to me?” The question is delivered on the cusp of a breathless chuckle, and it’s Pace who answers. “Worshiping you.” I feel his hand sliding over her ribs, searching until his fingers find the seal of my lips. “Although Wick’s always had a bit of an oral fixation. Isn’t that right?” Not missing a beat, I take his finger into my mouth, giving it a long suck, and he spits a sharp curse. Glancing up, I smirk around his digit. How’s that for skillmanship, fucker?

I don’t leave her tit to cool, latching on for another hard suck that makes her thighs quake. Pace wraps his hand around the column of her throat, guiding her into his chest. I know from the hard set of his jaw that he’s close, and when he says, “Come here,” I sense what he wants. Pulling off her tit, I hold the milk in my mouth as I strain over the distance, unsurprised when he reaches for me, hauling me into a hard, desperate kiss, right next to her red cheek. Pace sucks her milk from my tongue, and I don’t need to feel the way his fingers clench around my neck to know he’s coming. I feel it against my cock. “Holy fuck, Pace.” I grunt the words into his gasping mouth just before he buries his face into her neck, shoulders jolting with a final thrust.

This, I think as my thrusts trail off and I gather her into my arms. Pace clings to her back, still buried inside, while Lex kisses her slow and lazy through the final tremors of her orgasm. This is what it feels like to be unencumbered. There’s no obligation here, no man in the dungeon pulling the strings. It’s the best fucking feeling in the world.

“I don’t feel good about killing him, but I don’t feel bad about it, either. Honestly, I’m not the first Royal woman to kill her dad. Lavinia blew hers to smithereens.”

“So if you’re not homesick, then…” I pause, taking in her little pout. “Oh my fucking god, you really are out here brooding just because you want lasagna. And you call me melodramatic.”

“We can handle it,” Lex insists, brows crouched low. “We’ll just… have to learn to cook. Somehow.” The brows get even lower. “Eventually.”

board. “He’s got a nursery already,” I snap, overcome by a sudden flare of red-hot panic. “They’re not coming to stay here every other month. The contract only covered her pregnancy.”

“Look here, blondie. This has nothing to do with a contract. I’m going to see my grandbaby. And if you’d let me finish before having your possessive freakout, I would have gotten to the part where I offered to babysit—on occasion—to give all four of you a break now and again.”

“To the victor go the spoils.” Grabbing for mine, I give it a sniff before raising it, correcting, “To create is to reign.” She laughs a low, scratchy laugh. “Oh, blondie. Same fucking thing.”

“You just ate six pancakes,” Lex says, gaping. “And eggs. And a double serving of bacon.” “Seven,” Pace corrects. “Seven pancakes. She stole one of mine.” My jaw drops in outrage. “Your child stole one of yours,” I retort, not even the slightest bit ashamed.

“I killed my father and secured the throne for my son. But my Princes have agreed to help run the kingdom until he comes of age.”

“What?” Killian balks. “He isn’t born yet. That doesn’t mean anything. Your territory needs a King, not a fucking—” He makes a wild, belligerent gesture. “Whatever the hell this is! Don’t make this some weird group rule bullshit,” he says, eyes pleading. “Sy and I—we’re really trying to bring about change in Forsyth Royalty, but you’re running before we’ve crawled. You get one King, just like the rest of us.” He holds up a finger. “One King. Not three, a fetus, and his mommy.”

Killian rubs his forehead, looking worn. “Do you not think I’d want to rule South Side with my brothers as equals?” He gestures to Sy. “Don’t you think Perilini would rather share his kingship with a legit Bruin and a Maddox? There’s a reason we choose one leader, and it’s big enough that people like us sacrifice the hope of ruling alongside the people we care about.” “Simon.” I hold Sy’s gaze beseechingly. “We all know Nick and Remy rule alongside you in all but name. I’m sure it’s the same for South Side.” Sy nods. “That might be true, but the name means something, Ver. It’s a target I’d never put on my brothers’ backs, and I’d never ask DKS to put their necks out there three times more than they already do in order to protect them.”

“No, thanks.” I give him a gentle smile. “If I’m going to build a life for me and my son, I need to choose somewhere to do it. West End will always be home. I have roots there. But East End…” I glance behind me, meeting Lex’s gaze. “It’s where our presence as a Royal unit can do the most good. Not just for our family, but for Forsyth.”

“Verity may have held the knife, but we all killed Rufus Ashby. We didn’t do it impulsively. We spent months building a plan, and we’re committed to seeing it through.”

“You’ll be there,” Killian says, rising from his seat in an indication that the meeting is officially over, “just like the rest of us. You think killing a King gives you power, but the truth is, all it gives you are obligations.” He tilts his head at me. “Congratulations, Princess. Welcome to the club.”

“We’re better than the man who made us.” Not questioning the randomness of this thought, Lex gently takes the leaf from my hand, tucking it behind my ear like a flower. “And he’ll be better than the men who made him,” he agrees, brushing his knuckles against my belly.

“Well, I didn’t want to hold the brain, you know?” It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, but weirdly, maybe also the sweetest. “Wick.” He looks slightly aggrieved. “Yeah?” “Come hold my hand, okay?” Jolting forward to round the table, he releases a tense exhale, grabbing my hand. “Sure, yeah. Got it.”

“Lex.” I put my hand over his on the transducer, waiting until he meets my gaze to command. “Stop looking at the fetus. Look at our son.” He stares at me for a long moment as it sinks in. He doesn’t mean to see the specimen instead of the person. There was a time I didn’t understand, but now I do. Lex needs us to pull him out of the lab jacket and into the moment. And suddenly, he does.

Wicker and I created this baby with blood and passion. Pace and I forged him in the heat of wild possession. But Lex and I made him right here, with a longing so fierce that it transcended things like science or territory lines.

“Spare me with the moral ‘good’ bullshit, Ashby. No one’s good. On the scale of humanity, there’s super-shit, kinda-shit, and lesser-shit.” He points the joint at Pauly. “He’s less shit than most. That’s about the highest bar I’ve got.”

“Motherfucker, I know you aren’t out here smoking weed when you were specifically told to lay off!” Nick holds up his hands, cool as a cucumber. “Just shooting the shit, baby.” Her glower lands on me. “You. Spill.” “We were smoking a joint.” Nick’s fist bangs into me. “Dude, what the fuck?” Shrugging, I say, “Her and Verity are friends. I’m not sacrificing pussy to cover up for a Duke. You’d do the same.” Still pissed, he replies, “Of course I’d do the same. Welcome to the super-shit club, Assby.”

Spinning on my heel, I decide that I’m not equipped for this. Having a father I hate? I’ve got that shit down to a science. I could write a whole textbook on it. But having a father who was never given the chance to be one? Good or not, I’m not ready to give anyone that opportunity.

“You hit Heather with a frying pan,” I remind her. She groans. “Am I never going to live that down? Of all my actions, that one was the most justifiable! She broke the girl code, and she knows it.” I point out, “You helped me kill Charlie.” “That was self-defense.” Tugging her closer, I add, “I bet, given half the chance, you’d castrate at least a dozen of the men in Forsyth,” and she frowns. “That’s not true.” “Yes, it is.” I lean down to kiss her, licking my way through the seam of her mouth. “And it wouldn’t be because you’re an Ashby, it’d be because they deserve it. This town doesn’t raise happy, well-adjusted men, Rosi.”

“Things are going to be different.” Curling her fingers at the nape of my neck, she draws my forehead to hers. “Our son will have the one thing none of you did—a mother. And mothers aren’t just here to love and care for you. They're also here to kick asses, teach manners, and show you how to treat women. Mothers,” she concludes, “show you something a father can’t always teach.” Skeptically, I wonder, “And what’s that?” Rosi smirks. “How to be a real man.”

“Let’s call that song a little tribute to a fallen brother. He paid the price of capturing a wicked heart. But who among us, right? Who among us…” His laugh is quiet and uncomfortably sinister.

“But if not for the savagery of brittle lips and ruby blood, what would rattle the tin can of a Royal’s hollow soul?” There’s a long, hissing inhale, and then, “It’s two-o-clock. Do you know where your brothers are?”

“These are the dark days, my friends,” he’s drawling, “because they have to be. The smallest slant of light would show us that we shift around in our little crews, pretending we’re not part of the same rotting corpse, but we are. Limbs and corrupted organs. Hair follicles and fractured bones. Irises and perforated muscles. Our women keep getting plucked away like trophy molars because you’ve all forgotten. Your crowns are made of clay and straw and dead things.” Another one of those chilling chuckles. “Remember that you will die. Wake up, Forsyth. Wake up and smell that sweet decay⁠—”

“Back home, our trainer has this saying. Some men hit rock bottom and bounce back up. But others hit rock bottom and ask for a shovel.” He claps me on the shoulder, not realizing that it's the mention of Pauly that makes me stiffen—not the words. “I’m not a digger, Pace. I told Verity I’d do everything I could to find Stella, and I can’t do that if I’m hiding like a little bitch.”

“Why are you so hell-bent on going down with the ship?” His shoulders sink, face falling. “I think…” Reaching up, he grasps a fistful of his shirt, right over his heart. “I think I love her, Pace. I was too chickenshit to say it, but I felt it, and she’s out there right now, thinking she belongs to nobody. But she does.”

“I mean, what if it were Verity?” This is easy to answer. “If it were Verity, I’d burn this whole fucking city to the ground to find her.” “Yeah.” Ballsy nods, glancing back at the forest. “You’re a Prince, you can do that. But I’m just a nobody who makes it easy to pin this shit on.”

But I know what it’s like to need hope, to be stuck in a dark pit of despair waiting for the light to shine in. If Ballsack needs me to be that light, then fuck, I’ll be it. “No one,” I assure, “East or West, will stop until Stella St. James is found.” I just hope this is a promise I can keep.

If Remy’s going to be related to half my family, then he can damn well make himself useful to it.

The sight of her soft smile makes my stomach swoop, that twinge in my chest transforming into a clutching fist. Sometimes she hardly seems real. How did she bloom her way into our lives, filling it with such soft, sweet, warm things? And how on fucking earth did we ever think of smothering it?

“I knew from the first moment I saw you on that dating app that I wanted you, and it wasn’t just because of your perfect body or your gorgeous eyes.” I touch her cheek, following the pink, warm flush down to her neck. “I wanted to keep you, Rosi, and I was blindsided by it. Obsessed. Messy. Stupid.” Shaking my head, I try to remember that crazed, manic month I spent consuming her on the screen, but it feels so far away now. “I know it’s dumb. I didn’t even know you yet—not really. But I was sure that was love. It had to be, right? Because when you rejected me, it actually hurt.”

“I was too intense, and it freaked you out. I know that now. And it took me a long time to realize that it wasn’t even real.” I watch as my finger drags against her bottom lip, falling away. “Whatever I was feeling back then… it wasn’t love. It was desperation to have something to love. It was sad and pathetic, and I don’t blame you for running. For striking back.”

“The truth is, I keep Effie in a cage because I love her. But blaming Father for going to prison… that meant acknowledging that he kept me in a cage because he hated me. I couldn’t face that.” Meeting her watery eyes, I confess, “So I blamed you instead. Someone who hurt me. Someone I could eventually punish for it.”

“But I’ve thought about it a lot lately, and I want—no, I need you to know it’s real this time.” A sad sort of hope swims in her eyes. “What is?” I bring her hand to my lips, pushing a soft kiss into her delicate knuckles. “I love you, Rosilocks Sinclaire.” Watching the force of my words sink in, the tears spilling over, I whisper, “So fucking much that every breath I take when you’re nearby feels like a thousand daggers to the heart. So much that if you told me right now you wanted to leave and take our son to a better, safer place, I’d…” Pausing, I admit, “Well, I’d fucking hate it, and there’s not a power in this world that could stop me from still watching over you, but—but I’d let you go.” A fat tear rolls down her cheek and I catch it on the tip of my thumb. “I understand now that you don’t cage the people you love.”

“What we have is different from the others. We have a history, Pace, and it’s complicated, but I also think that’s what makes us able to work through anything that challenges us. You’re going to be a good dad. You’re going to keep Justice safe in a world that’s filled with threats. I know you will because you already do that for your brothers, and for Effie, and for me.” Her hand cups my cheek, and she gets as close to me as she can with the swell of her belly between us. “I love you too, Pace, and we are never going anywhere without you.”