Bloodied and weak from his days in the walls, he collapsed. The next thing
he recalled was being called a hero. Something his father, the King,
seemed proud of.
Clara had tried to be alone with him but Grayson would not allow it.
He wanted nothing to do with her. But she was Queen and used to
getting her way. Within a fortnight she showed up in not but a stitch
of clothing.
Brass she was, walking the halls like a nymph in the night. He could
not tell if she was crazy or brazen she walked into his room with
only a thin cloth to cover her. "Grayson."she purred. "I
know you are hurting but surely you will not send me away again."
Sashaying her hips as she came into his room. "I have missed you
and by the looks of you, you have surely missed me." Her gaze
lowering to the thick bulge that had popped up as she walked into the
candlelight. Her round breasts pushed against the thin white fabric
of her gown. She licked her lower lip causing him to imagine her
tongue licking him.
"I know." he croaked, still aching for her touch but, at
the same time, repelled by it as well. She did not seem to hear him
and she removed the covers from off his body. Now the only thing
between them were his pants and her barely there gown.
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