More than thirty minutes had passed since Aiden had pumped what felt like gallons of cum into Alethea's womb. Her belly, once swollen and round like she was carrying a child, had slowly deflated as his thick seed had leaked out of her thoroughly used pussy and down her thighs. Now it looked almost normal again — only the slightest, subtle roundness remained, a secret reminder of what had just happened.
They were now sitting side by side on the luxurious velvet couch in the Queen's private chambers. Alethea had put her elegant white royal gown back on, though it was slightly disheveled. Aiden had tugged his pants back up and buckled them. The air still smelled faintly of sex and sweat.
But the Queen didn't seem to care.
She was pressed tightly against Aiden's side, her arms wrapped around his neck like a lovesick girl. Her long platinum-blonde hair cascaded over his shoulder. Her massive breasts strained against the deep neckline of her gown as she clung to him.
