by Vivian Wood
He chuckles. That is enough for me. My eyes roll back in my head, and I clench and shake. I feel enraptured, but even as I am drifting down, he is already preparing for more. He sheds his boxers, his expression intense. I shiver with anticipation as I look at his nudity, biting my lip.
He gets up, putting the dildo aside. Flipping me over on my hands and knees, he smacks my ass once. A chill runs down my spine, unbidden,
Erik actually growls his excitement, which only increases my sense of anticipation. He pushes my thighs apart and presses his thick cock against the entrance to my pussy. He feels so huge from this angle, impossibly big.
He uses a little of my lubrication to push himself halfway in. We both groan. He wraps my long platinum hair in his fist, withdraws slightly, and then hammers himself home.
I cry out, the pleasure bordering on pain. He is so big, filling every single inch of me, touching every secret spot inside.
He grasps one of my hips and starts thrusting slowly. I shudder as he withdraws and then fills me completely, again and again. Erik increases his speed, gripping my hair and fucking me harder.
I moan, feeling him filling every inch of my pussy. He shifts a little, and suddenly he is hitting my g-spot. I tighten and clench instinctively around his cock.
“Ah!” I call. “God, right there!”
“You like that?” he growls. “I want you to come so hard. I want to feel you cream all over my cock.”
I groan as he hits my g-spot over and over, his thrusts as rapid as gunfire. Everything inside my body tightens.
“Oh god… oh god, Erik, I’m— I’m—” I cry, clenching around his cock. I feel like I am exploding, my eyes rolling back in my head.
He groans as he comes, finishing with a final thrust. I can actually feel his cock twitching, hot spurts of come releasing as he buries himself deep in my pussy.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, struggling for breath.
He loosens his hold on my hair, leaning forward to kiss my lower back.
When we are both lying on our backs, struggling for breath, his expression contorts. He puts his hand over his eyes, making a quiet sound of distress. I look over at him, pulling in a breath.
“What?” I ask.
Erik rolls onto his side, sliding his legs off of the bed, and then sits up. “Nothing.”
I arch a brow as he stands. “Where are you going?”
A pained expression crosses his face. “To my bed. This was…” He squints, stretching. “We can’t do this again, Nika. This was a one-time thing.”
I sit up, tilting my head. “We both wanted it. There’s no issue of consent or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He grabs his dress pants, hauling them up his legs. He doesn’t meet my gaze. “It’s not.”
I’m a little taken aback by how dismissive his tone is. “Did I do something wrong? Did I… not…”
His expression darkens. He looks at me, his eyes filled with so much guilt and regret and shame that the breath freezes in my lungs.
Erik sits on the bed, looking me in the eye. He takes my hand. “You were perfect, Annika. Really. You blew my mind. I feel lucky to have shared your bed.”
I bite my lip, my brow furrowing. “So, what is the problem, then?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. He glances away, taking a deep breath. “When I’m with you, nothing ever seems forced or contrived. It all just seems so natural. But as soon as I take a step back, I see all the cracks in our foundation.”
My lips twist. “Are you talking about Stellan?”
His hazel eyes swing around to pin me in place. “Annika. That might be the biggest reason that we shouldn’t be together. But that’s not the only one. I’m too old for you. I’m too poor. I was born in a different world. My father— “
Furious, I shake my head. “If you repeat that you weren’t born a royal one more time, I swear I will scream.”
He lifts a single shoulder in a shrug. “Okay. But just because I don’t say it doesn’t mean that it isn’t true.”
I can feel angry tears beginning to prick my eyes. I’m frustrated by his rejection and angry at his reason for it.
There is nothing I want less than to cry in front of Erik, but it seems like it’s about to happen. I stand up, grabbing my robe from the back of a chair that I keep by my bedside table. I can feel Erik’s probing glance as he just stares at me.
I head for my bathroom, hoping like hell he will get the message and make himself scarce.
“Where are you going?” he demands to know.
I inhale a shaky breath, but I don’t look at him. “I’m going to take a bath and sulk.”
He looks mildly offended. “What? Are we just done then?”
I stop, my body tensing, my hands clenching into fists. My jaw tightens as I whirl around on him. “Erik, get out of my room. You don’t want me, and you don’t want to be here… so just leave!”
My voice gives out on the last word and I turn, shaking my head. I feel so ashamed and unwanted. Tears prick my eyes. I just need to be alone. I run the last few steps toward the bathroom, ignoring the way that Erik calls my name.
Entering the cool white marble bathroom, I slam the door behind me. A sob escapes my lips as tears start to pour down my face. Covering my eyes with my hands, I lean against the door and sink to the floor in despair.
I’m officially in full meltdown mode, crying on the floor like a lovesick little girl. What has this guy brought me to?
I hear Erik as he taps against the bathroom door. “Nika…”
His voice is muffled but I can sense the frustration there too. I don’t answer. Or maybe I can’t, I don’t know. I hiccup and continue to ugly cry. Crying feels almost relieving at the same time as it feels like a knife twisting in my guts.
I hear him just on the other side of the door, his discomfort complete and obvious. He stands there for several beats. Then I hear him step back.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m the one that allowed things to go this far. It won’t happen again, Nika. I swear.”
It feels like he is physically shredding my heart. But the worst thing is the leaden feeling in my chest when I hear his footsteps receding, his presence vanishing in the blink of an eye.
My heart sinks. Closing my eyes, I let the tears stream down my face.
This.
This is what anguish feels like.
I need to remember this the next time that I am feeling flirtatious.
19
Erik
I sigh and run my hand down the front of my tux, glancing around the press junket. It is a madhouse right now. There is a large white backdrop set up across from where I stand, complete with designer logos of the companies that are providing support for this charity event. Before the backdrop is a red carpet, laid out like an offering from the gods.
Women in barely-there, skimpy black dresses teeter on sky high heels down the red carpet. Men in tuxes just like this one I'm wearing walk beside the women, doing their best to keep the women upright and steady.
It's always a little surreal to be invited to one of these events. On television, it’s so seamless and glamorous. But in person, you can see how frantic everyone is behind the scenes. There is a chaotic energy as assistants and reporters hustle back and forth, preparing for the red carpet event to take place.
Usually the royal press office politely declines. But this event is for one of Annika’s favorite fashion-related charities. So here we are, me watching with anxious eyes as a camera crew begins setting up to my right.
Nika took a separate car to get here, presumably because she doesn't want to be around me at all. And I don't blame her for that, not in the least.
After I left her chamber last night, I laid awake in my bed, restless. I tossed and turned the whole entire night, unable to get the sound of Annika’s muffled tears out of my fucking head.
Even sobbing and messy, she was so damn beautiful. I swear, I started to crack.
Toda
y, in the cold light of day, I feel like an empty vessel, poured out and left to lie on its side. All that is left over is a little bit of anguish on the very bottom, amplifying whatever emotions I've been feeling the last few days.
It's an empty hollowness more than anything, a numbness which I am fairly sure that I didn't intend to feel.
Hell, I didn’t plan to feel any of this.
I fuss with my bow tie and look at my cell phone. For someone that got exactly what he said he wanted last night, I'm acting like I am dying. I don't know what to do about that but it’s still a fact.
I hear her arrive before she even gets out of the car.
I know that Nika has just arrived because a hush falls over the entire red carpet and the press pit. There are people whispering about it from this distance. The red carpet runs all the way down the steps to where the celebrities are supposed to get out of their cars. And the second that Annika gets out and looks around, a hush falls over the people around me.
I turned my head, looking at her. My eyes widen the little bit. If her grandmother sees just what she is wearing, that beautiful hot mess is a dead woman walking. She wears a short length of gold chain which has somehow been converted into a dress. It shows off her collarbone, her breasts, everything from her thighs down. And when she turns around for just a second, I get a glance at the back of the dress, if it can even be called that. The dress is fastened at the back with gold chain and a barely there bit of fabric covers her ass. That's it.
My breath leaves me in a huff. The guy to my right adjusts his bow tie and gives me a look. "I know, right? Who would've known that the princess was so…” He bites his lip. “Well, you can see for yourself."
I shoot him a glare and hurry out of the line of press that I've been hiding behind. I should stop Nika before she even steps on the carpet. That's the only way to make sure that her grandmother doesn't lose her mind afterwards.
Elbowing my way through the crowd, I keep my eyes fixated on Annika's long flaxen hair. She seems to notice me only at the last moment that I push towards her. Her guileless eyes take me in and coolly dismiss me. I grab her elbow, pulling her closer.
She turns towards me, opening her mouth as if to argue. That's when I smell the whiskey on her breath. Leaning closer to her, I narrow my gaze on her face. "Are you insane? Just what do you think you're doing?"
She pulls her elbow from my grip, her expression unreadable. "I'm walking the red carpet."
I growl under my breath. “Annika, I swear to god…”
Her head swivels as she searches the crowd. She lands on a tall, dark-haired man in a tux. He turns and brightens; he begins to nudge his way through the crowd to get to her.
She points her long arm at him. She teeters, her balance thrown off. Clearly, she is even more drunk than I gave her credit for. When she speaks, she slurs her words. "There he is now. He’s my date. If you will excuse me?"
I grab her arm before she can walk away. "You think that I'm going to just let you drunkenly wander around here? You may be a princess, but I am your minder. And if you think that I am going to just let you embarrass the royal family by appearing on television right now in your current state, you’ve got another thing coming."
Gritting my teeth, I start to pull her back toward the limousine that she just left. The chauffeured car has long since pulled away from the curb, but I can still make it out, stuck in traffic.
Nika pulls herself from my grip once again, this time hissing at me. "What are you doing? Let me go!"
I don't even look at her. I just use my overwhelming size to push her through the crowd, trying to ignore that people are definitely turning their heads to see what the fuss is about. Honestly, it wouldn't even be that big of a deal, except that Nika is so well known.
I’m man handling the country’s princess, after all.
So, while I'm doing my best to shield her from prying eyes, everyone is probably whispering about the fact that the Princess is being forcefully removed from this event. That isn't what I want per se. But if it comes down to deciding between making Annika angrier with me or protecting the royal family from embarrassment, I know what I will choose.
I make it down to the street, all but carrying Nika. She doesn't even try to resist, really. She just looks mad and flushed as she glares up at me. Her mouth is screwed up like she's just bitten down on a lemon.
A hand lands on my shoulder, pulling at me. I glower, turning my head to see that Nika’s dark-haired date has followed me. He is looking between me and Annika, a little bewildered.
This close, I realize that he’s actually taller than me. I raise a brow.
“Could you fuck off?” I bite off.
He flushes, looking at Nika beseechingly.
"Princess Annika. Do you need help?" he asks, his voice unusually high and grating for someone so big.
I shrug out of his grip and step backward, pulling Nika into my body protectively. The last thing I want is to cause a scene here where everybody can see us. But I don't have time or the inclination to explain myself to this random dark-haired stranger.
Annika looks at me, arching a brow. "I don't know. Do I need assistance, Erik? Or do you want to just let me go right now? Because I will cause a scene. That much I assure you of."
A man wearing a tuxedo, a headset, and a clipboard cuts into our argument. "Excuse me, Princess Annika? We need you to walk the red carpet now so that we can prevent the back up of celebrities as we begin our event. We want to go ahead and get you seated in the front of the room, at the table of honor."
Annika looks at me with a little smirk and wrests her elbow from my grasp. Then she straightens her dress and looks at the dark-haired man she's chosen as her date. She holds her arm out and smiles, showing off her teeth. "But of course. Let's go, David."
Her date takes her arm, leaning close to whisper in her ear. "It's Ben."
She pats his arm and starts walking back towards the red carpet, climbing the stairs once more. She doesn't spare a second look for me. I am left to follow in her wake, having the depressing realization that this is what babysitting royalty is all about.
If it weren't for Annika being so interested in flirting with me, this is exactly what it would have been like the entire time that I had been tasked with this duty.
I suck in a breath and hold it as I trail after Annika and Ben down the red carpet. No one is interested in me, which is not surprising at all. Everyone is interested in Annika, taking their microphones out for a comment and peppering her with questions. She smiles in a way that does not seem genuine and somehow manages to walk down the red carpet, despite the fact that she is drunk and those gold heels that she is wearing look like torture devices.
Sexy, yes. But they definitely look like she could die at any moment.
She pauses on the carpet, posing with Ben at her side. Her saccharine smile never leaves her face. And if there were no questions from reporters, I think that maybe Annika would've gotten away with the next incident. But unfortunately for her, they are still pressing in on her with a thousand questions.
One pretty female reporter steps forward out of the line and pushes her microphone close to Annika's face. "Princess Annika, who are you wearing? And who is your date?"
Annika leans against Ben and licks her lips apprehensively. "I'm wearing Greta von Grissel and my date is my lovely friend…" She pauses. It’s clear to me that she has forgotten her date’s name. She blushes a bit. “You can just call him my friend. That's okay."
The dark-haired reporter raises her brows slightly. She steps a little closer to the Princess. She must get a whiff of the booze on Annika's breath. I can see a split-second decision being made on the woman’s face. She smiles at Annika, her expression turning a little cruel.
"Princess Annika, are you drunk right now?"
The crowd falls under a hush, heads turning. Everyone strains to see Annika's response. Annika's eyebrows go up, and her mouth tightening a fraction.
I see her sh
ake her head, frowning just a little bit. "No. Why would you ask me that?"
The reporter presses closer, pushing her microphone into Annika's face. Annika reacts, stepping backward. But those gold heels betrayed her. She tips over and trips over the carpet. It's only a moment of quick thinking on my part that saves her from total disaster.
I move forward, neatly catching Annika by the elbows and hauling her up against my chest. She shoots me a glare and tries to shake off my touch. But I lean in close to her ear, pressing my lips close. "Are you really going to make this worse than it already is? This clearly isn't going to go your way. So, let me just take you home."
Annika bares her teeth at me. Her eyes lose focus for just a second, reinforcing the fact that she is drunk as hell. “Yeah, like I'm going to let you take me anywhere. That's just not going to happen," she hisses.
In the next second I step back from her. Letting her go so suddenly removes some kind of stability that she relied on, apparently. Because when I take my hands off of her arms, she goes down like a lead filled balloon.
And there is no stopping her from falling.
I belatedly realize what is already happening when Annika is looking at me with a bewildered expression, slumping helplessly to the ground. My eyes widen as she collapses.
Ben is right behind her, picking her up off the ground. But the damage is already done. Reporters crowd around her in a circle, shouting questions and fighting to be the closest one to the disaster.
That's it.
I go into auto mode, grabbing Annika and hauling her back toward the limousines. I grit my teeth and let my expression do most of the talking.
It's simple math. I'm much bigger than most of these reporters… and way more determined, too. I just haul Annika along, wishing like anything that it wouldn't be untoward to scoop her up and carry her.
But honestly, I'm not even sure that she's wearing anything underneath that tiny gold dress. Besides, I don't want to risk showing the world her privates any more than I want there to be pictures of me and Annika together.
Rumors have been started over the last couple and all I need right now is for this event to start them up again.