by C. T. Sloan
Mere weeks after first meeting the Prince of Mondorra, 20-year old Amy Rousseau is swept off her feet in a whirlwind romance with the royal ruler. From Beverly Hills to the South of France, the former concierge finds herself serving the Prince’s every carnal desire.
But the wealthy families of Mondorra, who would prefer their ruler find a mate worthy of his stature, pose a serious threat to the duo’s sexual escapades. The Prince, however, refuses to bow to these pressures. “I will love and lust for who I want and when I want. My heart is not to be traded and bartered,” the Prince explains to his young lover.
After winning over the general populous of Mondorra with an open house party at the Royal Palace, the Prince and his lover escape to Geneva. The triumphant moment is short-lived when Prince Julian’s security team discovers a death threat against the couple. Now, the Prince and Amy must deal with the very real possibility that the Principality of Mondorra could fall prey to a Coup D’Etat.
Coup D’Etat (The Alpha Prince) Book 3
By C.T. Sloan
The following work is for private use only and may not be re-published, all or in part, without express written consent of the publisher.
Copyright 2012 MC73 Publishing
I am walking along Lake Geneva with Prince Julian. My imagination could not envision a more delightful scenario. Right now, however, I just want everything to change. My head is spinning after getting the news about the death threat. The Prince is not concerned. His temperament has not changed one bit. His entire mood has only been affected by my reaction to the news.
“You know what will make you feel better? A little walk. Come on, let’s take a stroll along the lake,” the Prince had told me. I’d accepted if only to give me something to do. As we look out across the lake, I notice that the Prince’s entire security team is following us. That makes me more comfortable and nervous at the same time. I know I am safe. However, the armed men only serve as a reminder as to why they are here in the first place.
“I wish you never heard that little piece of news. From now on, I will make sure that you do not hear any more State business. It should not be your concern,” Prince Julian tells me in a calm yet assertive matter.
“I worry for you, Prince Julian.”
“It goes with the territory. When people see a Prince, the first impression they get is the luxury and privilege of the position. But there is more to it. I have to deal with matters of running a Principality and all of the challenges that come with it.”
This doesn’t help me at all. I don’t want to know about all of these death threats. Yet, I am still concerned for the life of Prince Julian.
The Prince stops walking and locks eyes with me. “Look, I understand if you want to go back to Los Angeles. And you will not offend me at all. I can have one of my planes fly you back this instant.”
I gaze at Prince Julian. How could I ever go back? I have to be as strong as the Prince. If this is the life of being with a Prince, then so be it. “I want to be with you, Prince Julian. I’m ready to deal with anything that comes with us being together,” I tell my royal lover. We embrace. He picks me up off of my feet. Then he plants a nice long kiss on my lips.
“Enough of this worry. Let’s have some more fun. How about a little jaunt out to Paris?” the Prince asks me. Alright, how am I going to say no to that. We return to the castle. The Prince tells his security men that we will be heading to the City of Lights. The highly competent security detail scrambles and prepares an “advance team” to ensure the Prince’s safety. The Prince picks up his phone and makes a call. He is speaking in French so I have no idea what he is saying. The Prince paces around the room. He raises his voice. I begin to get nervous. Dammit. I wish I could understand what he is saying. After a few more exchanges with the person on the other side of the line, the Prince smiles and hangs up.
“Ah, it’s never easy dealing with the French. My family has been dealing with them for over 800 years and everything is always a negotiation,” Prince Julian says as he checks the time on his iPhone.
“What was the matter, Your Highness?”
“The Presidential suite at the Ritz was already booked. It’s the only place I will stay when I am in Paris. So I had to engage in a little wheeling and dealing to get that coveted suite for myself.”
“What did you have to do?”
“I secured an entire floor at the Hotel de Crillon for the guest who I had bumped out of the Ritz.”
I laugh. “Wow. So who is the lucky guest who is getting that entire floor?”
“Oh, some banker from London.”
***
I have never seen Paris with my own eyes before. As we passed over the city, I look down at the Eiffel Tower from one of the windows of Prince Julian’s private jet. I can not conceive of a better way to introduce myself to the city. “This was the first city I really fell in love with back when I was just 13,” the Prince explains. “It was where the girls were the friendliest,” Prince Julian adds with a laugh.
“Well, I am French. At least that is where my family came from. My grandmother left for America shortly after World War Two. So, in a way, I am seeing my ancestral home.”
“Ah, of course. Your last name is Rousseau,” the Prince says as he looks me up and down. “I have always had a weakness for French girls. You know how to make a man feel like a man.”
My face turns red. Prince Julian knows how to be romantic and perverted all at the same time. I get up from my chair and climb into the arms of the Prince. He puts his right hand on my ass. Then he kisses my right ear. “I love the way a French girl’s ass looks. You have a nice apple bottom behind. I love to lick and bite and play with your ass,” Prince Julian says as I begin to straddle him. The Prince places both hands on my butt as we begin to dry hump.
Prince Julian opens up my shirt and begins to lick and suck on my tits. I feel his teeth on my nipples. He bites down while I feel his cock getting hard. I look out of the window and stare at the Paris skyline drawing closer into view. Certainly a romantic way to meet this city! The Prince turns me around and bends me over the chair directly in front of him. I feel my jeans come down. He pulls down my thong and spanks my ass. “What a nice fucking view!” the Prince says as I feel his teeth sink into my backside. I feel the Prince run his tongue across each of my ass cheeks. He literally kisses my ass while offering me compliments about my “perfect French ass.”
As the jet descends, I feel the Prince press his hard cock against my ass and my thighs. He spread my legs apart and pushes my head down. I feel him push that hard dick into me. The Prince pounds my pussy as the pilot informs us that he is making his “final approach.” Fuck! I think I am going to cum before the wheels hit the tarmac. Prince Julian pulls on my hair. Then he begins to choke me from behind. I moan and then let out a scream. The Prince places his hand over my mouth to muffle my shouts of joy. My face begins to turn red from the lack of oxygen. The Prince rams me at full speed. Just when I think I’m about ready to explode, he pulls out and pushes me onto the floor of the jet.
I look up at Prince Julian’s hard dick. He strokes it while staring at my naked body. The Prince tells me to “turn over” and assume the “doggy-style position.” Oh yes, I will obey! I turn over and get on my hands and knees. I push my head down and pull my ass up into the air. The Prince gets on his knees and plants himself directly behind me. I feel that thick dick enter me. He fucks me like a stallion as the plane approaches The Charles De Gaulle International Airport. Now, I know people have joined the “Mile High Club.” But I wonder how many people have joined the “Doggy-Style Fucking Five Minutes Before Landing” club?!
“Ah!” I moan as I feel the sharp sla
p of Prince Julian’s strong hand on my bottom. I feel the Prince push himself completely inside of my body. He leans in and tells me that, “I am going to welcome you to Paris with my dick deep inside of you.” And boy, is he not joking. The Prince proceeds to fuck the living daylights out of me. I moan, I scream, I cry. As I feel the rear wheels of the jet touch the tarmac, the Prince pounds me at full speed. My body erupts in a fit of multiple orgasms as the front wheels hit the ground. Prince Julian yells, from the top of his lungs, as he cums inside of me.
“Welcome to Paris, Your Highness,” the pilot says as the jet comes to a stop. Yeah, Welcome to Paris, indeed! The Prince gets off of me and lifts my tired body up. He picks me up and carries me to his personal bathroom suite. Since the Prince’s flagship plane has two levels and enough room to hold over 700 people, no one is the wiser about our sexual escapade. We hop into the shower and quickly wash ourselves off while the plane rolls to the terminal. This is so surreal. It’s enough to fly on a personal jumbo jet. It’s quite another to fuck, shower and get dressed as though we are inside a personal residence. The Prince seems to be an expert at making himself up as though nothing odd has happened. I look in the mirror and notice that my face has that “freshly fucked” look. I am beaming!
The Prince escorts me out of his personal bathroom. We walk out of the bedroom suite and two of Prince Julian’s personal bodyguards meet us. They walk us over to the staircase. We go down to the first level of the jumbo jet where the rest of the Prince’s entourage - all fifty of them - are ready and waiting. The Prince acknowledges his staff and announces that he wants to “show his girl around Paris.”
“Your Highness, we have made arrangement with the Paris Police to give you an escort to the Ritz,” the head of security informs Prince Julian.
“Excellent,” the Prince says as he puts his arm around me.
We head to the motorcade where a fleet of Parisian Police cars are awaiting to take us to the hotel. We enter a really cool looking white Rolls-Royce. The police fire up their sirens and speed us out of the airport. We travel towards the center of Paris with alarming speed. The police allow the motorcade to blow through red lights and take us across town. I gander out my window to see the hurried Parisians going about their business. The buildings are spectacular centuries’ old monuments of history. It’s something you really don’t see in Los Angeles.
We arrive at the Ritz in about twenty minutes. The security team flanks us as we walk into the hotel. The Prince directs his men to “slow down” so I can enjoy the interior of the Ritz. The interior is bathed in a golden light. The decor is opulent yet tasteful. The hotel manager as well as the staff welcome Prince Julian, who addresses the hotel manager in French. They seem to know each other and exchange some pleasant conversation. I also notice a staff of personal concierge assigned to the Prince. Among the concierge staff is a cute little blonde French girl no older than myself. I immediately become jealous. A strange wave of fear runs through my body. What if the Prince dumps me for this little French concierge? After all, the Prince himself said that he likes French girls. Dammit. What is it that makes me think the worst case scenario? I just need to tell myself, “Act like you belong. Have grace. Have style. Act like you are worthy to be with a Prince.”
The members of the concierge present themselves to the Prince. I notice that the girls are immediately smitten with the Royal stud. How could I blame them? I try my best to maintain my poise and rise above my primal jealousy.
Prince Julian acknowledges each member of the staff. We head up to the Presidential Suite. The Prince looks at me as I marvel at the intricate artwork in the hotel. He seems to be experiencing the hotel through my eyes. I believe he is getting a kick at my wonderment. As we walk up to the elevators, I see several super-famous actors. The Prince introduces himself to them. We all begin to talk for a while. And for a fleeting moment, I don’t feel like just “some girl” or piece of arm candy. For the first time, I feel as though I am on an equal level with this exclusive club. As the Prince finishes his conversation, I can feel his hand wander down to my ass. It’s a very public display of affection that shocks me. Then again, we are in France.
The Prince and I step into the elevator. As the security group tries to enter, the Prince stops them. The doors close. The Prince looks at me and begins to rip off all of my clothes. “There is one thing I have always wanted to do yet never had the opportunity,” Prince Julian says as I feel his hands probe my naked body.
“And what is that, Your Highness?”
“I have always wanted to fuck in the elevator of the Ritz,” the Prince says as he stops the elevator. I feel myself get spun around. The Prince pushes me up against the elevator doors. I feel his tongue wander down my back and down to my ass. The Prince lifts me up and begins to lick my pussy as I grab onto the top of the elevator doors. My eyes roll into the back of my head. I try to plant my feet on each handrail inside the elevator. This is certainly one of the wildest positions I’ve ever been forced to negotiate!
The Prince licks me until my body starts to shake. I feel him grabbing my ass and digging his fingernails into my flesh. He bites into my ass and makes me squeal like a teenager. When the Prince is done with my pussy and my ass, he pulls me down and demands that I, “swallow his cock.” I would be honored! I strip the pants off of my Prince. Then I pull down his underwear. The Royal stud is so nice and thick that I can’t wait to grab every inch of his manhood. I stroke that Royal dick while the Prince demands that I look up into his eyes. “You are so beautiful when you are on your knees,” the Prince says to me as I maintain eye contact. I don’t say a word. I open my mouth, stick out my tongue and gently lick the tip of his thick dick. The Prince approves. I proceed to open my mouth and slowly slide my lips down Prince Julian’s long, hard shaft.
I suck off the Prince while he struggles to take off his shirt. I run my hands up his flat stomach and his strong chest. My mouth causes his knees to get weak. He leans back and uses the elevator walls for support. I suck off the Prince at full speed as his moans echo around the walls of the elevator. “Oh Amy! Amy!” the Prince moans as I suck him off faster and faster. The Prince pulls me up by my hair and turns me around. He begins to fuck me from behind. I feel that hard dick pound me into submission. The Prince pushes my face right into the wall of the elevator. I slowly slide down onto the elevator floor as the Prince continues to drive himself deep into me.
The Prince turns me over. He pins my feet behind my ears and continues to have his way with my body. I feel him pinch my nipples. Then I feel his hands ascend up to my neck. The strong hands of my Royal lover slowly chokes the air out of my body. He watches me struggle for breath as I draw closer and closer to orgasm. My eyes begin to close. I start to lose consciousness. Just when I think I am about to blackout, the Prince slaps me fully awake. I grab onto the Prince’s back and grit my teeth as I cum.
Prince Julian finishes inside of me. He collapses onto my naked body and bites my ear. I look up at the gilded artwork at the top of the elevator. My body is so fatigued that I can hardly move my fingers. My goodness. I’ve never had a guy fuck me like this before. I can’t even think straight. It takes both of us a good five minutes before we can get our clothes back on.
We help straighten out each other’s attire. The Prince and I fix up our hair in one of the many mirror panels inside the elevator. We look at each other and share a good laugh as Prince Julian sets the elevator back in motion. “I don’t think I need to see much more of Paris after that!” I joke.
“That is the one great thing about this city. Every building, every piece of art, everything you see in this city is sexual. Look at the Eiffel Tower. It is one giant erection in the middle of Paris. How can one not fuck after seeing that phallic spire soar into the sky?” the Prince proclaims.
Wow. Come to think about it, Paris may be the first city designed completely around fucking.
We exit from the elevator where four members of the Prince’s security team meet us
. They seem nonchalant about the fact that we were stuck in the elevator for an extended period of time. Something tells me that they know. Of course they know. Now, I am starting to feel a bit self-conscious. We head to the Presidential suite, where yet more security men are standing guard. One of the security members opens the door for the Prince and myself. We enter a room that would be at home in Prince Julian’s Mondorra Palace - very spacious, very opulent, and very royal. Prince Julian makes himself at home while I stand googly eyed at the walls, floors and the furniture. I’ve spent the last year working in a five-star hotel and this suite is on another level.
The Prince shows me around the twelve rooms of the suite. He talks about all the famous heads of state, celebrities and members of Royalty who have slept here. “After the Nazi’s fled Paris, Hemingway made himself at home in this suite - as well as the bar below - before the Allied forces even made their way into Paris,” the Prince tells me. We make our way into the master bathroom. We both take a look at the gorgeous French tub. It doesn’t take long for us to get naked. The Prince touches my body with his gentle fingers while the tub fills with water. We get inside. I recline on the Prince’s strong body. He wraps his arms around me and gives my breast a well deserved squeeze. Since it’s been mere minutes since we last fucked, our moment in the tub is more sensual than sexual.