Still gripping my knife, I rotated it so that the blade faced downward. With the back of my hand, I pushed against her pubic bone, sliding my wrist down until I had put pressure against her clit. Her quick inhalation of surprise told me what I already knew. I’d have been able to find my way to her pussy no matter what, no matter when. I rubbed my knuckle against her, making her moan a little, misdirecting her from what I was about to do.
In one quick slash, I plunged the knife into the gap between her legs and cut a slit through her wedding gown. She gasped in surprise, and then melted into me as I slid two fingers inside her.
“A knife,” she moaned. “That was a knife.”
Not just any fucking knife.
“This is the knife,” I said. “The one you held to my throat, Princess.”
She smiled and bit her tongue. She adored that word, so I used it sparingly. But seeing her smile made me fucking smile, too.
“You loved that,” she said.
I flicked my fingers against her opening, making her pussy squelch with its own wetness—such a juicy, dirty, beautiful sound.
“Feels like I’m not the only one.”
Without warning, I penetrated her hard with my fingers, letting the blade handle grind against her clit, and then yanked my hand from the gap in her skirt, seized her by the back of the neck, turned her around, and bent her over the balcony where we stood. With quick, precise slices of the blade, I cut the ribbons of her corset. I tossed it aside and then sliced off her skirt, as well as her panties and underthings, shredding it all until she stood there in front of me, naked, panting, with her dripping-wet pussy inviting me inside.
Kneeling behind her, I ate her out from behind, burying my face in her sweet ass and plunging my tongue into her cunt. Once I felt her relax into it, I stopped and stepped away. She began to straighten up, but I clicked my tongue at her, same as I would do to correct my mare.
In response to the correction, she nodded, gripping the railing and letting her gorgeous honey-colored hair fall down between her outstretched arms.
With my foot, I dragged a chair away from the big table near where she stood. Sitting down, I took my glass of champagne and took her in.
My wife, Princess Valeria Valentine-Greengallow, standing in front of me, buck naked in front of the ocean, with her pink pussy spread. I might not be an actual king, but I was pretty motherfucking close right then and there.
“Turn around,” I told her. “Look at me.”
She did as she was asked, opening her eyes for the first time since we arrived. Her glance darted side to side and she smiled, a little confused.
“Where are we? I could smell the sea and I knew it was warm, but…”
“All yours,” I said, parting my legs to give my aching balls and cock a little more room. “When the winters get too tough, we’ll come down here.”
Her mouth dropped open as she glanced around the big room. “This whole place? Is ours?”
“Fuck yes, it is,” I told her as I set down my glass of champagne. “But all that can wait. Right now, I need you to focus on what’s really important.” I reached down and adjusted my hard-on.
Her expression became serious and her eyes fell to the bulge in my lap.
“Good. Now get on your fucking knees. Crawl to me. Do it well, make me happy, and you might get to feel my cum down your throat.”
She didn’t obey, not right away, but instead slid her hands down her body, rolling like a belly dancer as she caressed herself.
“If I’m lucky I get to suck your royal cock, is that the deal? But what about me, handsome? What about this?” she asked, pinching her nipples, pursing her lips, then parting her lower lips to see that deep pink slash of tender flesh between her legs.
She knew her powers and she knew exactly how to use them. But this was no time to let her explore her strength.
“Don’t you fucking sass me,” I said, and flicked my fingers to tell her to get the fuck over here.
She answered with a sexy little giggle, and then dropped to her hands and knees. She rolled her neck gracefully, making her hair slip over one shoulder. With careful, almost feline steps, she crawled her way out of her ruined wedding gown and over to me, never taking her eyes off of me even once. Once she was in front of me, I raised my eyebrow at my pants and flicked my chin at her.
“You know what to do, Princess. Worship that cock.”
“Finally,” she whispered as she got to work on my belt and fly.
Slowly, reverently almost, she pulled my dick out of my boxers.
With her eyes raised to me, she gathered up a mouthful of spit and let it drizzle down over the head and shaft. She licked up and down its length, letting the tip rub against her cheek and chin. Taking the shaft in her fist, she worked my length with her hand while she slid her head down—still with her eyes locked on mine—and took my balls in her mouth one at a time.
“Fuck,” I growled up at the ceiling, letting myself relax into the chair.
Once she had me good and wet, a drop of precum spilled from the head, which she licked up on a moan of pleasure, finally closing her eyes as she tasted my seed for the first time that day. I reached forward to take her chin in my hand, gently rubbing her cheek with the pad of my thumb as she twirled her tongue around the tip, teasing the head.
“You ready?” I asked her.
Her eyes were languid, slow with need
