Charlie
I love the noises Elle is making. She moans and sighs, grunting as she bucks against me. It only takes a second to tear our clothes off each other. Elle is wearing lacy black underwear and a thin bra, and I smile. She knew I was going to see them tonight.
She shrugs off her now-tattered t-shirt and grins. “You’re not very good for my wardrobe. Everything I wear around you gets destroyed.”
“I’ll buy you a new one.” I crush my lips against hers as she wraps her arms around my neck. Elle’s nails leave deep scratch marks across my upper back as she pulls me closer.
I’ve never brought a woman to this cabin before. This is my refuge, and I only ever come on my own—but having Elle here feels right.
Having her pinned underneath me feels very right. She wraps her legs around my waist and grinds herself against me.
My hands tangle into her short, brown hair as I bury my face into the crook of her neck. I inhale, drinking in her scent as my body goes into overdrive. I haven’t felt this turned on in years.
Elle bucks underneath me and we roll across the bed so that she’s on top of me. She grins, leaning her hands on my chest as I tuck my arms behind my head.
I grin. “You look good on top of me like that.”
She grinds her hips slowly against me, curling her fingers into my chest. Her fingers trace my muscles—all the way from my pecs to my stomach, over every ridge and valley of my body.
“Do you shave your chest?” Elle runs the back of her hand back up over my chest. Her hips are still rolling against me in the most intoxicating way.
“I wax.”
She grins, trailing her fingers over my skin.
“What?” I ask. “You don’t like a waxed chest?” My hands are still interlaced behind my head and I glance down at myself, flexing. I buck my hips against her and she falls forward, giggling and catching herself against me.
Elle pokes my hard abdominal muscles and shrugs. “I like a little chest hair, to be honest. It’s… manly. I don’t know. It turns me on.”
“I’ll let it grow for you.”
“You’re planning on having me around long enough to see your chest hair grow?”
“I’m not the asshole you think I am.”
“Jury’s still out on that.” Her eyes flash as a smile tugs at her lips. Hearing that from anyone else would piss me off, but Elle just makes me want her more. I like her sharp tongue. I’d like it even better wrapped around my girth.
She reaches down between us and feels my hardness before yanking down my underwear and pulling it off. This time, I have the presence of mind to use protection. I grab a condom from the side table and roll it on while Elle straddles me.
When she sinks down on top of me, I let out a soft moan. My hands grip her thighs as she rides me, splaying her fingers over my chest. Elle’s eyes close and her mouth drops open.
We move together, grinding and thrusting and fucking each other wordlessly. She moans, dropping her chest to mine and holding me tightly.
Elle feels so fucking good, it makes my head spin. The way she moves her hips makes me want to explode right then and there, but I’m not ready to do that yet.
I flip her over again and she yelps, giggling. She twists her hands into the bedsheets as I give her a powerful thrust. Her mouth opens and she inhales sharply, squeezing her eyes shut and spreading herself wider for me.
Seeing her face like this—full of pleasure and lust and sin—is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. I drop my hand to her shoulder, dragging it across to her throat.
Elle looks at me through hooded eyelids, moving her hand on top of mine as I drive myself deeper inside her. She curls her fingers over mine, pushing my hand harder against her neck.
My cock is buried deep inside her and my hand is on her throat. My heart thumps as I squeeze a little bit harder. She exhales, closing her eyes and rolling her hips toward me.
I’ve been with kinky chicks before. Some of them were nuts. But this? Something about Elle just gently nudging me to choke her harder—that does something for me. The sweet, innocent girl that was ready to leave a few minutes ago is now completely under my control—and she fucking loves it. I drive myself deeper inside her as she wraps her legs around me.
I feel her come. Her walls grip me tightly as her back arches. Elle gasps, her lips dropping open as the orgasm rocks through her body. Her hands dig into my arms and I let go of her throat, pulling her up to my chest and holding her close as I come with her.
My orgasm hits me like a tidal wave as I empty myself inside her. We cling onto each other, trembling and panting until we finally collapse. As the pleasure subsides, I roll off her, staring up at the ceiling as my chest heaves.
“Holy shit.”
She laughs weakly in response. “Yeah.”
I turn to look at her, and she shimmies closer to me, her eyelids heavy and her body limp. I pull her into my arms and hold her, both our hearts thumping in unison.
We fall into a blissful kind of sleep for a few minutes, until Elle disentangles herself from me with a deep breath. “I should probably get going. I have practice at five o’clock tomorrow morning.”
I groan. “That sounds horrendous.”
“Maybe I’ll see you there,” she grins, “since you seem to enjoy losing our little races so much.”
I laugh, pulling her into me and kissing her lips. She wraps her arms around me and I lay there, tangled in each other’s embrace. Her skin feels like magic against mine. She smells incredible. I wish we could stay like this all night, but she pulls away from me.
“You don’t mind driving me home?”
“Of course not,” I answer.
Her smile is shy, but genuine. She kisses my shoulder and pushes herself off the bed to pull her clothes back on. I watch her get dressed until she leans over to grab my shirt, tossing it at my head.
“Perv.”
“It’s a nice view.”
Elle laughs, shaking her head. I pull my shirt on as she holds up the ripped remains of her own top.
“Here,” I say, pulling a drawer open. “Wear one of mine.”
When she puts my shirt on, I grin. I like seeing her in my clothes. She brings the fabric to her face and inhales, smiling. “Smells like you.”
I’m not used to this easiness. I feel more comfortable around her than any other woman I’ve ever been with. She doesn’t treat me like I’m royalty, or a celebrity, or some kind of god. She’s just herself. Without even trying, she makes me realize what I’ve been missing—the company of a woman that doesn’t want anything from me.
She was ready to walk out on me earlier. She doesn’t care that I’m Prince Charlie. She’s not here because I’m royalty.
She’s here because she wants to be. Because she likes me.
When we walk back to the kitchen, Elle stops to grab a bit more food. She munches on it, nodding and giving me a thumbs up.
“You did good, Charlie. Sex and snacks are on point.”
I laugh, wrapping my arms around her. She hooks her arms behind my neck and smiles at me. I kiss the tip of her nose and inhale deeply.
“You okay?” Elle asks, tilting her head to the side.
“I want to see you again.”
A flush stains her cheeks as a smile flashes across her lips. “You do?”
“Tomorrow.”
She sucks a breath in and finally nods. “Okay. Tomorrow. Even though it goes against all my better judgement.”
“Fuck your better judgement.”
Elle laughs. “You have a special kind of way with words, Your Highness.”
I tighten my hold on her and kiss her. Something shakes loose in my chest as I hold her close to me, kissing her more tenderly than I’ve kissed anyone before.
This girl is different. Special. The more time I spend with her, the less it matters where she’s from. I’m starting to feel like I want to break all kinds of rules just to be with her.
20
; Elle
And so begins the craziest time of my life.
If you’d have asked me a few weeks ago if I thought I’d ever see Prince Charlie in person, I’d have said probably not. If you’d have asked whether I thought he’d ever speak a word to me, I’d have scoffed.
If you’d have asked if I thought the Prince would ever rip my clothes off and fuck me like there was no tomorrow, I would have laughed and said only in my dreams.
Well, my dreams become a reality, and the Prince of Farcliff becomes my new lover. For the next three weeks, we spend almost every evening together at the lodge, and every morning he races me on the banks of Lake Farcliff. He makes me laugh and tells me I’m gorgeous.
And I feel beautiful.
Whenever Charlie looks at me with his dark eyes and even darker intentions, it sends a zip of heat rushing down my spine. When he kisses my forehead or strokes my arm, my heart thumps against my ribcage in the most intoxicating way.
I always had the feeling that guys settled for me when they couldn’t get one of my hotter friends. Either that, or they liked my tits and didn’t care about much else.
But not with Charlie. He makes me feel sexy and womanly and wanted.
Coach Bernard notices a change one morning as I put my shell in the water.
“You’re awful smiley these days, Elle,” Coach says, arching an eyebrow.
“Just looking forward to the Spring Regatta, Coach.”
“I have high hopes. Keep training like this, and you’ll have a chance at the title.”
I row hard, I study, and I see Charlie. The Prince and I help Frank out at the shelter once a week, and Charlie has Sunday lunch with me at the Valencia’s house. Dahlia grins at me non-stop.
I’m happy.
One evening, when Charlie is busy with a royal function, I lounge on the couch with Dahlia. A new season of The Bachelorette is on, and Dahlia is explaining to me in great detail what she thinks of each suitor.
“I don’t think I could handle having that many men trying to date me,” I toss a piece of popcorn in my mouth. “It looks exhausting.”
“I could do it,” Dahlia responds, shrugging.
“Of course you could,” I laugh.
She grins at me, and then winces as she grabs a handful of popcorn. “My period is so bad right now,” she says. “All I want to do is sit here and eat.”
I must make a face, because Dahlia sits up. “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
Ever since I’ve lived with Dahlia, our cycles have synced up. Where mine was sporadic and irregular before, for the past year and a half I’ve lived with Dahlia, it’s been like clockwork—just like hers.
Except… not this time.
“You okay?” Dahlia is frowning at me. “You look worried.”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing. When did your period start?”
“Day before yesterday.”
“Huh.”
“Why?”
“Nothing, it’s just… It’s nothing.”
“Do you not have yours?”
I shake my head. “It’s usually within a day of yours.”
Dahlia brings her feet up onto the couch and rests her chin on her knees. “Maybe it’s just late.”
“Yeah. I’ve been training hard, could be that I’m just not eating enough.”
“Yeah. Could be.” Dahlia glances at me, swallowing. She bites her lip, and I know what she’s thinking—what I’m thinking. What every girl thinks whenever her typically very regular period doesn’t arrive exactly on schedule.
… what if?
“You never got the morning after pill, did you?” Dahlia asks, straight to the point as always.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Have you guys been using protection? You and Prince Charming have been going at it like rabbits. I hope you’ve been responsible.”
“I’m not pregnant.”
“I know. I’m just saying…”
“I’m not pregnant.”
“Maybe you should take a test.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Elle…”
“I’m not pregnant, Dahlia. I can’t be. It was only one time! The chances of that happening…”
“… are not zero.”
I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut. No matter what Dahlia says, I just can’t wrap my head around the idea that I could be pregnant.
No, not just pregnant. I could be pregnant with Prince Charlie’s baby.
I sit up, putting a hand to my forehead and taking a deep breath. My mind immediately starts racing a million miles an hour.
If I’m pregnant, I’d have to stop rowing. I’d lose my scholarship. I’d have to stop college. How would I take care of it?
How would I tell the Prince?
The first evening we spent at the cabin, he told me about his governess taking advantage of him, and how much it had messed him up to find her poking holes in his condoms. I’ve seen him get rid of used condoms very carefully, and he’s always extra safe.
I know he doesn’t want kids—especially not with a nobody from Grimdale like me.
Putting a hand to my stomach, I take a deep breath and shake my head. “No. I’m not pregnant. There’s no way.”
“Just breathe,” Dahlia says, scooting closer to me. She puts an arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “Your period will show up. There’s been lots going on in your life, between your illicit love affair with the Kingdom’s baddest bad boy, the biggest regatta of your rowing career, and your studies. Give yourself a break. Don’t panic.”
“I can’t be pregnant, Dahlia. You don’t understand.”
“I do understand.” She looks me in the eye, her face more serious than I’ve ever seen it. “I understand perfectly, Elle. Don’t panic. If it hasn’t shown up in a few days, I’ll buy you a test and we’ll take it together. I’m here for you.”
I nod. “Okay. You’re right. It’s probably just stress. Maybe I should eat more.”
“Tell Coach Bernard to give you a day off, for Farcliff’s sake,” Dahlia says. “You need to rest. Between rowing and screwing the Prince, your body needs to recover.”
“Yeah,” I say, blowing the air out of my lungs. “I just need to rest.”
“Give that coochie a break. Damn girl,” Dahlia grins. “Tell Prince Charlie to take it easy on you.”
“Shut up, Dahlia.” I crack a smile and turn back to the television. “You’re the one who had to buy a new bed frame last week. If anyone’s coochie needs a break, it’s yours.”
“Hey, I take a few nights off a week,” Dahlia says, tossing her rainbow-colored hair over her shoulder. “I know my limits.”
“You don’t know your bed’s limits, though.”
She just shrugs and grabs some more popcorn. “Let’s order a pizza. Call it step one in Operation: Get Elle’s Period Back.”
“Deal,” I grin, reaching for my phone.
I spend the evening with Dahlia, keeping my panic at bay. We watch a few shows, eat a bunch of food, and then we go to bed.
It’s not until I’m under the blankets, staring at the ceiling, that I finally allow myself to think about it again.
What if I’m pregnant?
The thought of it terrifies me for a thousand different reasons. First of all, it would derail my entire life plan. My college degree hinges on my rowing performance, and I have a whole year left before I graduate. Falling pregnant now would mean losing my scholarship before I graduate.
If I don’t graduate, I don’t get a good job. If I don’t get a good job, I can’t provide for myself… or a kid.
I take a deep breath and put my hand to my stomach. I already know that if I were pregnant, I would keep it. Getting rid of a baby is out of the question. Giving it up for adoption isn’t going to happen, either. I grew up in the foster system, feeling unwanted, tossed away like a piece of trash. I’m not going to do that to a baby.
If I were pregnant,
I would be the best mother I could possibly be. If that meant dropping out of college and working for Frank at the shelter, or finding some other job, so be it. I’d make it work.
The thought gives me strength. It might derail my life plans, but what are life plans, anyway? Nothing ever goes according to plan. Meeting the Prince wasn’t part of the plan. This whirlwind romance wasn’t part of the plan.
I look down at my abdomen, wishing I had ultrasound-vision to be able to see what was going on in there. I take a deep breath to try to clear my head.
I’m panicking, and Dahlia’s right. I’ve been putting my body under a lot of stress lately, and that’s probably why my period is late.
What is it that Frank always says? If you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras. There’s probably a simple, common explanation. Not enough food. Too much training. Definitely not pregnancy.
I can’t let my mind spiral out of control. What I need to focus on now is the Spring Regatta in four weeks. My performance at the regatta will determine my scholarship for next year, so that has to be my priority.
This romance with the Prince is fun, but it’s a distraction. Having an irrational pregnancy scare is just a sign that I’m not as focused as I should be.
I turn to my side and take a deep breath. I’ll get some sleep, go to practice, and focus on rowing.
Easier said than done, though, when there’s a big prince-shaped distraction in my life.
21
Charlie
I get to the lakeshore at the usual time, waiting for Elle to pass by on her cool down lap. It’s become our daily ritual, to run and row alongside each other. No one else knows that we do it, and it’s one of the only times we can be in relative public together.
But this morning, she doesn’t look for me. I see her row past without casting an eye toward the shore, and it stings. I stay on the edge of the water for a few more minutes, but she never reappears. I finish my run with a frown on my face.
Elle doesn’t text me all day, which is also unusual. We’ve been in almost constant contact ever since that first night at the cabin. It makes me feel insecure and uneasy, and I don’t like those feelings. They’re not me.
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