The Royal Series Book 1: Kidnapping the King

“The red bandit has struck again, sire.”

“Again? I thought you had it under control,” Grant said with a long sigh. He sat in front of the table tucked into the far corner of his room. Maps of the kingdom had been placed neatly along the top, his thoughts carefully scribbled along the pieces of parchment.

The sheriff shifted uneasily.

“We made an arrest, yes.”

“And?” Grant said slowly, rising from his seated position.

“We arrested a man who we suspected of being the bandit. But while he was in our custody, Lord Butler from east of the river reported that all of his wife’s jewelry had gone missing.”

“How did you know that it was the bandit?” he said, his voice growing tighter.

“He left behind another message.”

The sheriff reached into his pocket and handed him a folded bit of parchment. Grant opened it.

Grant felt his blood begin to boil. This bastard dared mock him? He did not even use his title, he simply called him by his first name.

“You will search every mountain top, swim every river and burn down every house in that goddamn village if you have to. If you do not find him by the time I return from visiting Castlebury, you will die. You will rot in my highest prison until the rats have eaten every ounce of flesh from your body,” Grant said, his voice beginning to roar.

“Y-yes, Your Majesty,” the sheriff stuttered.

“Get out,” he said before motioning to a nearby servant who now stood in the doorway after hearing the commotion.

“Bring me fresh ale and the two wenches who clean my quarters.”

The servant nodded his head and rushed to meet the king’s needs. Grant paced his room quickly, anxious to think of some way to find this mysterious bandit.

He had to admit, he was quite witty. He had eluded the guards for months now, and he had his full attention.

It was not often that men such as the bandit tried to outwit him. He had taken the throne at only sixteen years of age and had ruled for the past eight years with an iron fist.

Yet, some believed his young age hindered him, and they underestimated his intelligence. His kingdom was the most powerful in the nation, with the strongest and most skilled soldiers and the wealthiest nobles.

However, this bandit had never been caught, never been seen, but always left a message, mocking the king. All they knew of the bandit was that he wore a black cape, plundered the houses of the wealthy, was never caught, few had claimed to see him, and he always left taunting messages for the king.

However, the most memorable thing about the bandit was the red insignia that he left behind at each location. It was a crest with a raven flying above a thorny rose. It was always painted in detail, and anyone who saw it spoke of it as being quite impressive.

What amazed the king the most was that the bandit even had time to do so. If the bandit wanted to play games, he was willing to play.

He sat at his desk, laying out a piece of parchment, ink and a quill.

He hoped that the bandit would show up for his crimes. He would have this posted around the village for all to see.

He began to calm when he saw the servant re-enter the room with the two maids he had requested. One was a curvy blonde-haired maid named Mary with a fair face, and the other a brunette with equally supple curves whose name slipped the king’s mind.

The servant quickly set three wine goblets on the table and raced from the room. Grant knew exactly what to do with his anger, and the two wenches before him were willing and able.

“Undress each other,” he said, not making eye contact as he poured himself a goblet of wine.

They were each regulars in the king’s bed, always willing to participate in a night of wine and pleasure, but he had never asked for two wenches at once. “I said undress each other,” he said.

Mary gave a seductive smile and began to unbutton the back of the other maid’s dress.

“Slower,” the king hissed. He had a lot of frustration welling inside of him and was growing impatient.

“What is your name again, wench, with the brown hair?”

“Eve,” she said, smiling sweetly, but inside she felt frustration that the king had again forgotten her name. She had spent many nights straddling the king in his bed, admiring his long, muscular body, screaming his praises, yet he could never seem to remember her three-lettered name.

“Go on then,” he said, sitting in his chair and leaning back, raising his goblet.

Mary finished unbuttoning Eve’s dress and slowly pulled down one sleeve, revealing part of a lacy chemise. Slowly, she brushed the stray hairs from her neck, lowered her lips, and began to gently suck.

Eve let out a surprised squeal that slowly turned into a soft sigh. Mary continued to suck as she tugged the dress downward.

She revealed Eve in her form-fitting chemise, her breast pouring from the top, eager to be touched. Mary stood in front of Eve and backed her into the wall.

Eve’s eyes were full of surprise, for she had never done such things with a woman before, yet her core burned with desire. Mary, on the other hand, was not new to pleasing a woman and had many affairs with men and women in the castle.

She brought her lips to the exposed top of Eve’s breast and slowly licked, teasing her with her tongue. Eve’s breath began to quicken, and moisture formed in the softness between her legs.

Mary slowly brought her hand downward, dragging it along her stomach and stopped when she reached her thighs. She let her hand linger there, teasing her.

Eve began to shake in anticipation.

“Take off her chemise,” the king’s voice was sudden and loud, causing Eve to jump.

“Take her to my bed,” he said as he began to disrobe.

“Would you like to take her now, sire?” Mary asked seductively.

“Not yet. Do with her as you please for now,” he said dismissively.

Mary took Eve’s hand and walked her to the king’s bed, pushing her onto the satin sheets, her breasts bouncing from the sudden movement. Eve yelped in surprise but lay back and spread her legs.

Mary undressed, allowing her gown to fall to the floor at her feet. She lay on top of Eve and took her hand, placing it on her breast. Eve gave a soft squeeze, and Mary moaned, her eyes full of lust.

“I have waited long enough, Mary. Do what you will,” she breathed.

With that sentence, Mary lowered her face between Eve’s legs and heard her gasp. She lightly traced her tongue over the inside of her, outlining the entrance to her soft haven.

She ran her tongue along her clit, causing Eve to scream in pleasure. She continued to lick and suck as Eve moaned.

Moments later, she felt her body vibrate in pleasure as Eve climaxed.

“Eve, bend over the desk,” the king’s voice interrupted.

Eve stood from the bed and did as he asked, still shaking from her orgasm, revealing her wet opening to the king.

“Mary,” he said, sitting in his plush chair while admiring Eve’s plump rear end. “Mount me.”

Mary complied and straddled the king, plunging downward, moaning with pleasure as his hard erection entered her moist opening. He grinned with satisfaction.

If this didn’t take his mind off that bandit, then nothing could. Mary began to pump furiously, his hardness rubbing her inside in the most pleasurable way.

For a moment, she almost leaned down to kiss him but remembered that he did not like to be kissed. Mary continued her motions.

She began to rotate her hips in a circular motion and watched in satisfaction as the king moaned loudly.

“Off,” the king said suddenly, and Mary quickly complied, frustrated that she had not finished.

He stood behind Eve, who remained in the same position. Listening to the moans of her other partners had aroused her again, and she dripped with anticipation.

The king reached from behind her and refilled his goblet, bringing it to his lips. Then, without warning, he placed his hand on her waist and plunged into her womanhood.

She let out a surprised squeal.

Then a loud knock at the door interrupted them.

“Who is it?” the king called out, sounding quite annoyed.

“Sir Harold, Your Majesty,” came the reply.

“Enter!” he yelled.

Ignoring the small man who had just entered the room, the king continued to pump himself into Eve.

“Hush, wench. I need to hear this man.”

Eve bit her lip as the king continued, trying to suppress her pleasure.

“Your Majesty, you said to come at any time if news of an attack came to the castle,” the man said.

“Continue,” Grant replied.

“There was an attack by the river on some of the guards.”

“And?” He moved faster, his skin slapping against hers.

The man paused for a moment. “It was led by your brother’s men, sir.”

As if Grant had not had enough to deal with today. “Again, eh?” He plunged harder, causing Eve to draw blood from her lip. “Send word that we will convene tomorrow after breakfast. To plan.”

“Yes, sire.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, sire.”

“You may leave,” he said, bringing his hand up to cup Eve’s breast.

The man bowed and left.

The king held firmly onto the wench with both hands and plunged deep and hard, then quickly pulled himself away, exploding onto her backside. The last thing he needed was some wench claiming she was pregnant with his bastard child.

He turned and made his way to Mary.