A new generation. A new breeder. A whole new set of problems….
He took his time, moving against the wetness between my legs, his fingers gripping my hips as he took me, gently at first, then harder and hungrier as he pushed me toward the edge, the sharp fullness giving way to pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
Whatever this was wasn’t just business. This was heat. Need. A deeply rooted longing that threatened to shatter my carefully crafted life.
No, this was more than business. He was more than a breeder.
And I would never be the same.
***
I’m Maeve, the next White Queen. But before I can ascend the throne currently held by my mother, Rosalie, I must produce an heir for the Drogomor line.