Joffrey's arms wrapped around Cersei's slim, curvy waist. He held the woman close to his chest and let her scour through his mouth in search of her lustful passion. All he cared about was making sure Jaime saw everything in great detail.
Just a little more. Joffrey controlled himself, letting Cersei feel happy, and effectively proving that she was the only culprit behind the scene.
Although he had planned to go all the way and show everything to Jaime, he just couldn't bring himself to do it yet, not when it was still daylight outside. I'll need a few glasses of wine before coming here next time.
Finally, when he felt tired of her tugs and pushes, he let go of her waist and stepped back. "Mother... I need to leave. There are matters that require my attention."
"Oh..." Cersei's voice held a tinge of disappointment as she withdrew from him, her gaze lingering with expectation. "But you did mention a gift for your mother, did you not?"
As she caressed the side of his face gently, Joffrey recoiled back again. "I… I didn't bring it with me, Mother. I'll see you again tomorrow with the gift."
He lied. He did, in fact, have the gift and the blindfold in his pocket. But he had changed his plan. It was better to enrage Jaime slowly.
"I shall await you, my love," Cersei purred, her words dripping with honeyed affection. "Visit your mother tomorrow night, if it suits you. I'll ensure there's a gift awaiting your return, something befitting your… position."
Joffrey breathed deeply, already knowing what 'gift' she had in mind. She's too desperate to get her controlling claws on me.
He just nodded and turned around, leaving Cersei's royal chamber. Wiping his lips, keeping a straight face, he walked out of the door and stood there for a moment, sighing as if frustrated. "I shall hold court today."
I like that look. Joffrey noticed Jaime's shaken, wide-eyed expression. Get used to it, my Kingsguard… father.
But still, Jaime and Sandor escorted him to the Throne Room and stood guard in front of the Iron Throne. Lord Hand arrived soon enough, followed by the rest of the Small Council. The few spectators also eventually filled the hall.
"Which one would you like to see first, Your Grace?" Asked Tyrion, having worked on the efficiency of the King's court in Joffrey's absence. "I have divided the visitors into Civil Pleas, Criminal Pleas, and Knight and Nobles' pleas."
"Interesting. Bring the Criminals first," Joffrey ordered.
Normally, the King wasn't bothered to preside over criminal cases and hand out punishments. However, in cases where the crimes were too severe or directed towards the royal family, the King had the choice to punish them personally.
Treason, corruption, mass murder, mass rapes—criminals with such violations were soon bright before Joffrey. As long as Joffrey felt satisfied by the evidence against them, he handed out death by hanging or on a chopping block, one after another.
Finally, after handing death to almost a dozen men, Joffrey heard the Civil please. These mainly involved some merchants being harassed by bandits, or some landowners seeing their land unjustly taken from them.
Such cases were easy to deal with, and Joffrey allowed Tyrion to deal with them. Only when the knights and nobles came did Joffrey get involved again. The pleas were common—one noble house encroached on land, interests, or business of another.
In such cases, Joffrey used information provided by Lord Varys to make a judgment. Impartial and just—Joffrey didn't choose to pick that path, but rather, he felt scheming on such a low level was a waste of energy.
He just wanted to finish court quickly, head back to his solar, and focus on other work. It was less tiring on his body but burdensome on his mind.
Eventually, he arrived at his solar alone.
"Sansa?" Joffrey found his redheaded unofficial wife already waiting for him there. In her arms was the bundle of joy, the little Joanna.
"Your Grace." She stood up to greet him.
But Joffrey quickly approached her and held her shoulders, making her sit down again. "You don't need to be so uptight around me. After all, you're carrying my child. You have every right to loosen up and be informal with me."
Her blue eyes immediately turned softer, loving Joffrey's attention and affection. With a smile, she handed over the baby to Joffrey as he gestured.
"So, what brought you here?" He asked, swaying the baby in his arms so she wouldn't cry. He was more attentive to Sansa's looks, however, unashamedly licking his dry lips. The red-haired, tall beauty looked fuller now, and even with that gown covering everything on her except her face, he felt attracted.
Her long, loose, silky red hair was like a waterfall of fire around her face. Her pale skin, big blue eyes, thin brows, and delectable lips were calling him.
"Y-Your Grace… I heard about the marriage," Sansa voiced, her words breaking. The previous Joffrey had truly ruined her mind to the point she still felt scared of those old days. "I-I'm not angered by i—"
Joffrey interrupted her suddenly, stepping forward and claiming Sansa's unsuspecting lips with his own. This time, he felt no aversion like with Cersei. His loins grew a swell just from that silken touch of her red lips—he wanted her right then and there.
However, with Joanna between them, he couldn't do anything. "Do you trust me, Sansa?"
"More than anything, Your Grace." Sansa looked into his eyes lovingly. "Enough to sire you as many more babes as you desire, Your Grace."
Seven hells, I feel like putting another in her right now. He loved her submissive personality. It felt just right—Submissive Sansa, loving and maternal Catelyn, and finally, the fierce Arya—he loved the whole Stark bundle he had.
Too tempted, Joffrey walked over to the side where a soft, cushioned seating bench rested. He put sleeping Joanna on it, two pillows on her sides so she wouldn't fall. Then, he looked back at Sansa like a hungry lion and strode towards her.
"Ah!" Sansa yelped with love and delight, happy to see Joffrey still interested in her. She let her man push her back against the wall and claim her lips. She reciprocated the heat as much as Joffrey, telling her how much she loved him with her tongue.
She wants it. Joffrey realized Sansa was in need of his attention.
With one hand on her slender waist, and the other on her nectar-filled breasts, he ground his erection on her lower belly, making her surrender to him fully. He drew her breaths along with her spit, her taste even better now than he remembered.
"Ummm… Joffrey… Can we… Oh…" Sansa wriggled against him, her hips as if pushing onto him, her pelvis rubbing on his cock. "Put it in me… Ah…"
Such magical words. Joffrey noticed his hand on her swell, feeling something wet just then. He remembered she was lactating. Perhaps it's time to taste her.
Instead of just one, Joffrey cupped both her filled breasts with his palms and kneaded them like the creamiest, softest dough in the world. His lips never left hers, enjoying the wetness all over his mouth and in his palms.
"Ummmgh!" Sansa clenched her eyes close, her one hand on Joffrey's neck and the other unable to hold back, squeezing between their bodies until she got a hold of his erection.
Joffrey loved every bit of that, and couldn't think of anything but fucking her right then and there, and shoving into the hilt in her sweet, sweet, noble pussy. "Turn!"
Sansa turned around, her breasts compressed against the walls achingly. Joffrey, behind her, lifted the heavy hem of her robes until he felt the cloudy flesh of her ass. "Perfect…"
She had gained more flesh after her pregnancy, it seemed, and Joffrey loved every bit of it. No longer the slender Sansa—now she had curves in all the right places.
"Quick… Your Grace…" Sansa couldn't wait to feel him inside. It had been more than a year since she last lay with a man, him.
Her requests were music to his ears. Joffrey quickly pushed down her lower smallclothes, letting them tightly cling to her knees. But he had what he needed, her exposed petals. Though, he didn't waste time to look or probe his fingers and quickly began lowering his breeches, exposing his rock-hard cock.
Plap!
He slapped the girth of his shaft on her petals a few times, sending jitters of pleasure racing through Sansa's body.
Knock! Knock!
"Your Grace, Lady Olenna requests an audience."
Fuck! Fucking Tyrells, the fucking thorn in my throat. Joffrey cursed and quickly stepped back, lifting his breeches. He couldn't afford to fuck Sansa in front of them, not right now, at least.
"Trust me, Sansa. The wedding won't succeed; that is my promise," he assured her, helped her pull her smallclothes back up, and then lowered her hem. He then turned her around and kissed her sweetly. "Go, I'll see you soon—and ruin you, my dear Sansa."
Sansa smiled softly, blushing hungrily. "I will… wait for you, Your Grace."
Sansa finally picked Joanna up and left through the door.
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