Chapter 1: The Unwelcome Return
Edith Swanneck strode through the cold, stone corridors of the royal palace in London, her boots echoing with purpose. She had been away for months, tending to her family’s estates in the north, but now she returned to reclaim her place at Harold Godwinson’s side. Once his cherished companion, she had shared his bed and his secrets before he was crowned king. But whispers of a new queen, Margaret, had reached her ears, and a fire of jealousy and determination burned in her chest. Edith was no wilting flower; she was a woman of iron will, and she’d be damned if she let some fresh-faced noblewoman steal her man.
The heavy oak door to her old bedchamber loomed ahead. She didn’t knock—why should she? This was her domain, her sanctuary, even if Harold had forgotten it. Pushing it open, the sight before her stopped her cold. There, tangled in the furs of her own bed, was Harold, his muscular frame glistening with sweat, and atop him, riding with fierce abandon, was a woman Edith could only assume was Margaret. Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, her moans sharp and unapologetic as she claimed her pleasure.
“Well, well,” Edith drawled, leaning against the doorframe, her voice dripping with venomous amusement. “I see the king has found a new throne to conquer. Or is it the other way around?”
Harold’s head snapped up, his blue eyes wide with shock, while Margaret didn’t falter for a moment, her hips still rolling with brazen confidence. “Edith,” Harold stammered, his voice thick with lust and guilt. “You’re… back.”
“Clearly, I’ve returned at the perfect moment,” Edith shot back, her gaze raking over Margaret’s flushed form. “Tell me, darling, does he still growl like a beast when he’s about to cum, or has marriage tamed that out of him?”
Margaret smirked, slowing her pace but not stopping, her eyes locking with Edith’s in a challenge. “Oh, he growls, alright. But I’m no tame kitten to be scared off by a stray cat scratching at the door. Care to join us, or are you just here to watch?”
Edith’s lips curled into a dangerous smile as she stepped closer, shedding her cloak with a deliberate flick. “Watch? Sweetheart, I don’t watch. I take. And I’ve come to remind Harold exactly what he’s been missing.” Her voice lowered, a seductive purr. “Isn’t that right, my king? Or has this little queen got your cock so hard you’ve forgotten the woman who taught you how to use it?”
Harold’s breath hitched, his hands gripping Margaret’s hips as he struggled to form words. “Edith, I—God, you’ve always known how to cut me to the quick.”
“And I’ll cut deeper if I must,” Edith replied, her fingers trailing along the edge of the bed, her eyes burning with intent. “But let’s see if you can handle two queens at once. Margaret, darling, move that pretty ass of yours. I want a taste of what’s mine.”
Margaret laughed, a sharp, wicked sound, as she leaned down to nip at Harold’s ear before sliding off him, leaving his hard, glistening cock exposed. “Be my guest,” she taunted, her voice dripping with defiance. “But don’t think I’m giving up my crown—or my king—so easily.”
Edith’s gaze darkened with hunger as she climbed onto the bed, her hands already reaching for Harold, her body aching with a need she hadn’t felt in months. She could feel the heat radiating from him, see the way his chest heaved with panting breaths. Her own pulse raced, her core growing wet with anticipation. This wasn’t just a reclaiming—it was a battle, and she was ready to fight dirty.
As her lips hovered inches from his, the air thick with tension, she whispered, “Let’s see if you can still make me drip, Harold. Or has your new toy worn you out already?”
The room seemed to ignite with the promise of raw, explosive passion, the three of them poised on the edge of something wild and untamed.
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