Time meant nothing in the eternal half-light of the king’s cave. Carter had completely lost track of the hours and the days. When he awoke again it was to the grunting and panting of the king. His arse was used to being taken whenever the king wanted it. Many times their f*****g would be so wild and Carter would get so caught up in the heat and passion he’d let himself go. He’d cry out and moan as the king thrust into him. Then there’d be times he’d wake up with a slight throb at his pucker and know the king had been at it while he slept.
But there’d been a change in the king since the day Paul had visited. He couldn’t put his finger on what had changed exactly, and to the casual observer the king was just as personable as he’d ever been. The s*x was still regular and the kisses were long
