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“You keep doing that, Captain,” he says, “and I will be blowing in your hand before I have a chance at your ass.”
“Is that what you want?” I ask him. “To have all of me?”
“Yes,” he says. “Then do it.”
“You get six words. More. Harder. Stop. Slower. God. Fuck. Now stop being so difficult and let me take care of you. All right?”
“You have two choices,” he tells me, his hair damp and mussed, his lips red and swollen, his cock soaking wet.
“One,” Roc says, “you come over to the bed and you join us.”
“Two, you sit in that chair and you watch.”
“Or how about the third option?” I challenge. “I leave.”
“Do you want to leave, Your Majesty?” he asks me.
Because the letters are actually wrong, because the answer is no.
My silence says everything.
“Did you know I was here? Did either of you know?” “No, we didn’t,” Roc confirms.
“I’ve missed you all of the days that have stretched between then and now. If I’d known you were here, pregnant with my baby, I would have come, Wendy Darling. I would have saved you or died trying.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t come,” James tells me. “But we are here now.”
But I am lost in him, in the desperation to feel saved.
“Don’t go easy on her, Captain.”
“I would suspect the queen needs to be properly fucked,”
And I bear witness to them both, to their ecstasy, their
pleasure. I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so fucking beautiful.
