by Parker Grey
In her arms, Stefan coos. I just stand there, doing my best to pretend, in front of the entire royal family, that I’m not thinking about pounding their daughter toward ecstasy.
“You’ve got a lineage to worry about too, you know,” Ella says. “You haven’t got any legitimate heirs yet.”
“I haven’t got any heirs at all,” I say, suddenly on the defense. “I’m at least careful.”
Ella rolls her eyes, and the director of the interview segment shushes everyone in the studio. The lights dim slightly, except for the ones shining on Aurora and Bianca, seated primly on a couch.
“Now,” says Riviera St. James in her interview voice, “Tell us what you’ll be wearing to Prince Stefan’s christening ball!”
Chapter Three
Aurora
“You know he’s got a Pomeranian named Cupcake, don’t you?” Declan murmurs.
I bite my lip, trying not to giggle, and he leans away. The server steps between us and ladles me one scoop of lobster bisque, giving me a few extra seconds to pretend like my brother’s best friend isn’t gossiping with me about the old men who advise my father.
“I’m sure she’s named after the very important battle of Cupcake,” I whisper back. “Huge loss of life, important strategic victory.”
Declan grins and takes a sip of his wine, looking away like the two of us aren’t behaving badly at my nephew Stefan’s christening banquet. It’s a solemn occasion, the one where the three-month-old is officially welcomed into the line of Naraltan succession, and I am not supposed to be tipsily giggling with my brother’s best friend.
Really, I’m just glad that I don’t think he heard my orgasm comment from earlier. He sort of gave me a look when I came out of the bathroom, my face ten different shades of red, but he hasn’t said anything to me all night about it.
And if I know Declan, he’s not exactly the type to keep quiet to me about something embarrassing I’ve done.
After all, the two of us practically grew up together. He’s the crown prince of Floronia, the next kingdom over, but since he and Grayson are best friends and our kingdoms are allied, he spent most summers in our palace.
Declan teasing me is nothing new. The time I was twelve and came out of the bathroom with toilet paper on my shoe, he called me the mummy for a month. The next year, he’s the one who caught me kissing one of my father’s advisor’s sons behind the pool house — my very first kiss — and he called me fish face for ages afterward.
“Any sign of your evil cousin yet?” he asks, his voice still low.
I glance around the table, nervously. I’d forgotten about Malvina.
Hopefully she’s forgotten about us, too.
“I haven’t seen her,” I say.
“Maybe she turned herself into a frog or something by accident,” Declan offers.
Across the table from us, Beckett and Kieran, my brother’s other two best friends, lean in.
“You have an evil cousin?” Beckett asks.
“Like, evil hot or evil ugly?” asks Kieran.
I roll my eyes at them. Along with Declan — and before he met Ella, my brother — they’re notorious womanizers who’ve probably banged their way through half of Europe. Every time I see them they seem to be followed by a small crowd of willing and eager girls who all want a taste of royalty.
Literally. Ew.
Stealthily, I glance over at Declan.
Okay, mostly ew. Specifically the taste part.
I let my eyes linger for half a second too long on Declan: his chiseled jaw, his bright blue eyes, the way he somehow manages to eat soup cockily.
Some ew. A moderate amount of ew.
I’d let him kiss me behind the pool house, I guess.
“Malvina was in her early forties when I was born, so she’s a bit above your age range,” I point out to Kieran and Beckett.
“That doesn’t rule her out,” Beckett says.
“I’ll try almost anything,” Kieran says.
Bianca’s seated next to them at the table, politely and demurely eating her own soup course, but I don’t think she misses the glance that Kieran gives her when he says that.
“Hey, we’ll both try almost anything,” Beckett confirms.
“That’s what I hear,” Declan says dryly. “Except calling a girl the next day.”
Beckett and Kieran are famous for — how do I put this — sharing women. As in, having sex with one woman together. At the same time.
Really at the same time, like all-naked-together-in-bed at the same time. I wish they’d stop looking at Bianca, not that she seems to mind.
“She’s not hot, and she’s not here, and everything is fine,” I say, trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters.
“She’s not here yet,” Declan says, a devious grin lighting up his eyes. “Didn’t she fly into your christening on a broomstick, surrounded by a cloud of lightning and bats before bringing down a terrifying curse on you?”
See what I mean about teasing? He’s a jerk. A hot jerk, but a jerk nonetheless.
“No, she came in normally,” I protest. “She was just wearing a bunch of black, and then she shouted a bunch of nonsense, threw some plants, and the guards removed her.”
I don’t remember any of this, obviously. I was three months old. I’ve just heard the stories told again and again.
“You mean... she cursed you,” Declan says, dropping his voice and wiggling his eyebrows.
“I’m not cursed.”
“Are you sure? You got lobster bisque on your dress.”
I look down. It’s a tiny droplet, but it’s right over my nipple, and my face heats all the way up as I think about Declan, of all people, finding it.
Please, like he hasn’t been looking at your boobs since the day you got back from boarding school, I remind myself. He’s Declan. You have breasts.
Of course he’s looking at them. The sky is blue, grass is green, and Declan looks at boobs.
“The curse was for me to die before I’m twenty, so thanks for being all gung-ho about it,” I tell him, dabbing gently at my chest.
He looks down again. I try not to notice.
“I thought your parents went to a good witch to get it reversed,” he says.
I sigh. Maybe if I just don’t answer...
“And the good witch changed it to you falling into a coma, only to be awakened by true love’s kiss,” he says, grinning like an asshole. “Better get on Tinder pretty soon, Princess. Isn’t your birthday pretty soon?”
“I’ve got six months, and also curses are stupid and not real,” I point out.
“Still, hope your evil cousin doesn’t show up tonight.”
“That makes two of us,” I say, and finish my soup.
Chapter Four
Declan
Everything at the banquet is tedious and boring. There are speeches, toasts, more speeches, more toasts, and frankly the guy with the wine doesn’t come around nearly often enough.
Everything except Aurora, that is. She’s anything but tedious and boring, though to make matters worse, I can’t shake the filthy thoughts I’ve been having ever since earlier, when I found out about her orgasmless state.
Well, I’ll be honest. I’ve been having the thoughts for a while now. Ever since she graduated boarding school a few months back and suddenly showed up in Naralta again, and I ran into her while on a state visit.
Once upon a time, Grayson’s little sister was a gangly, awkward kid. Cute, but all braces, glasses, and tripping over her own feet.
I’ll just say that Aurora’s grown right the hell up, and I’ve been thinking dirty, dirty thoughts since the first moment I saw her this summer.
But it’s today that they got filthy. All I’ve done since that moment is come up with a mental list of ways I could make her come. Some of them are pretty innocent — with my tongue, for example — while others are decidedly not.
Licking a girl to orgasm is amateur stuff. It’s when she screams your name wit
h your cock up her ass, coming until her legs shake, that you’ve mastered your craft.
And I like to think of myself as a master.
If only her big brother wouldn’t murder me — maybe even literally.
Speaking of Grayson, it’s another hour or two before he finally pulls me aside. The throng of people is slowly moving from the banquet hall to the ball room and he says something quickly to Ella before grabbing my sleeve and tugging me toward a service hallway.
“Hey!” I protest. “This is my best tuxedo.”
Grayson doesn’t react to my joke, his face solemn as ever.
“You heard what my sister said today. By accident.”
I clear my throat.
“Hard not to.”
“Just forget it, okay? The poor kid was really embarrassed, and she doesn’t need scumbags like you or Kieran or Beckett sniffing around her,” he goes on.
“Grayson, I would nev—”
“Cut the crap, okay, Declan? I’ve seen the way you look at her, and believe me, I know the shit you get up to. Hell, I know better than anyone else.”
I clear my throat and put on my very best lying face.
“Grayson, relax. Aurora’s just your kid sister. She’s cute and everything, but we practically grew up together. Come on,” I say, praying I convince him.
He just raises one eyebrow.
“Besides, I can get my dick wet anywhere. Anywhere. You know that.”
This time, he smiles. At least that last thing I said didn’t have to be a lie.
“So tonight I’m gonna see you leaving early with some girl who’s not my sister, right?”
I just laugh.
“You know, you could still come out with us sometimes,” I say.
“Declan, I’m not gonna cheat on—”
I wave my hand in the air.
“Not that part,” I say. “Just the part where you come have a drink and hang out with us. Then you can go home early and leave more girls for us.”
“That actually doesn’t sound too bad,” he admits. “Now that the christening is nearly over, I think I might actually have a chance to catch my breath, and Stefan has started sleeping through the night, so I can probably get away as long as I give Ella a night off, too...”
I reach out and clap his shoulder, relieved. I fucking lied, and I lied hard.
Just your kid sister. Yeah, right. She’s just his kid sister, and I’ve just been jerking off thinking of her sweet lips around my cock for weeks now.
Grayson turns to leave the service hallway, and I follow, already fighting yet another erection, only now it’s not Aurora’s mouth on my cock I’m thinking of.
It’s my tongue in her cunt, legs spread wide for me, back arched, both her perfect little tits in my hands as she begs me to make her come.
Stop it, I tell myself. At least stop it while you’re around nearly everyone either you or Aurora know.
Think about it all you want later, for God’s sake.
Chapter Five
Aurora
These balls always seem like a really fun idea, but after about an hour, I always realize that I was wrong.
You’d think that they’d be great for getting to meet some young men from the kingdom. Maybe dance my brother’s cute friends — especially — Declan, and it would all be sweep-me-off-my-feet romantic.
Not so much.
As a princess, I’m not here for fun, and with my brother and father watching me like a hawk, I’m definitely not here for that kind of fun. I pretty much have to dance with anyone who requests the honor, since it’s only polite, and naturally, it’s the kings and foreign dignitaries who are the most important.
I dance with Declan’s father, but not Declan yet. I dance with Beckett’s father and Kieran’s father and my own father, then all of their cabinet secretaries and advisors. They’re all good dancers, and they’re all quite skilled at making charming, appropriate conversation, but they’re not exactly exciting.
I’m dancing a waltz with Señor Amarosa, a Spanish dignitary, when the string quartet ends that song. He bows, I curtsey, and then I quickly scan the crowd.
Check, I think to myself, eyes dancing over the knot of gray-haired men standing around my father. Check, check, check...
Is that everyone? Is it true, have I really done my duty?
Just as I think that to myself, from across the dance floor, Declan catches my eye. He’s standing there, one hand in his pocket and one holding a glass of champagne, and he’s just staring at me.
Hungrily. Like I’m a steak and he’s a tiger, or something.
And I can’t stop staring back, like a deer mesmerized by her hunter’s eyes. I know I should look away, find someone else to dance with, stop looking at Declan.
I know he’s dangerous. I can feel his eyes practically devouring my body, like he can see right through my gown, and I swear his gaze gets even hungrier.
Despite myself, I don’t mind. No, worse: I think I like it. Something about the way he’s looking at me makes me want to take this gown off, just for him. See what he thinks about me in just my bra and panties, or even naked.
I have a feeling the look would be the same, and that thought makes a sharp tingle run through my whole body, from the back of my neck, down my spine, all the way there.
You know. Down there. The tingling is in the vagina region.
Still watching me, Declan turns. His eyes don’t leave mine as he walks along the dance floor, moving gracefully but like he’s in control. People naturally move out of his way, and he rounds a corner, heading straight for me.
I’m frozen. I can’t move.
And then someone steps in front of him. It’s a girl, and I don’t see her face but she’s got long, nearly-black hair piled on top of her head and a bright blue, tight, backless dress that’s completely inappropriate for this event.
There’s no way she’s wearing a bra underneath that, I think. There’s no way she’s wearing panties.
I watch as she laughs, puts one arm on Declan’s arm. He glances over her shoulder at me, and just as he looks like he’s about to say something to her, there’s a polite tap on my shoulder, and I turn.
It’s another gray-haired man, only this one I haven’t danced with yet. He smiles, all perfectly good manners, and bows his head slightly.
“Princess Aurora, my pleasure,” he says. “I am Pierre L’Enfant, Count of Saxony. Would you do the honor or giving me this dance?”
He holds out one well-manicured hand, and my princess training kicks in full-force. I take it, smiling automatically.
“Of course, Count L’Enfant. It’s my pleasure.”
As the Count leads me onto the dance floor, I can’t help but glance over at Declan. He’s leading his partner onto the floor, too, and now I can see her face: bright red lips, the kind of smoky eye makeup I’ve never been able to manage myself.
Somehow, despite her lack of bra, her boobs are defying gravity, practically racing each other to escape her dress through the low neck.
Maybe she did dress right for a christening, I think sarcastically. I bet Stefan’s getting hungry just looking at those things.
We take up our positions, stiff and formal. The dance starts, and Monsieur L’Enfant whirls me around the dance floor, proper and elegant as you like. He’s a total gentleman, a competent dancer, and he’s even able to make a light discussion about the panda at the Paris zoo while he does it.
But I feel bad, because I’m only half paying attention to the panda talk. Instead, every time I see Declan and Slutty McBoobsalot, I can’t help but watch until they disappear again behind the other dancers.
And I can’t help but get the tiniest bit jealous. I know I shouldn’t.
I know how Declan is. Everyone thinks I’m some innocent, sheltered child, but please. I’m fully aware of the reputation he and my brother’s other friends have. I’m fully aware that they pretty much run dick-first into crowds of women, that they sleep with someone new almost every night.
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Of course he’s dancing with someone whose boobs look like that. It’s Declan.
The dance finishes. Monsieur L’Enfant bows again, and I curtsey. He thanks me for the dance, and I respond appropriately, but I’m really looking at Declan and McBoobsalot.
She’s got her whole body pressed against him, tits first, like she had some sort of horrible superglue accident.
Then, while I watch, she raises one knee against his hip, sliding her leg up, along the outside of his. Right there on the dance floor. For my baby nephew’s christening.
I think she’s expecting him to dip her and kiss her dramatically, or something, but Declan just smiles. He pats her knee, says something to her, and she pouts and lowers it before they both walk from the dance floor.
I move away as well, trying to pretend that I didn’t just watch all that unfold. There are no more foreign dignitaries in my path, and I’m pretty thirsty, so I make a beeline for the bar. Maybe a drink will help me deal with this whole sometimes-Declan-dances-with-other-women situation.
But before I get there, I feel another polite tap on my shoulder.
I turn, and there’s Declan’s face, cocky grin in full force.
“Princess Aurora, may I have this dance?” he murmurs.
Chapter Six
Declan
Aurora turns pink instantly, her cheeks flaming against her red hair. Her lips part slightly, and I do my best not to stare.
“Prince Declan,” she finally says. “Of course, it would be my pleasure.”
We’re completely surrounded by other people, so of course I don’t say what I’m thinking: that I could give her untold other pleasures, all of them much better than dancing.
“Wonderful,” I say, and smile gallantly at her. “Shall we?”
I lead her back to the dance floor, her arm in mine. I force myself not to peek down her dress, even though it’s perfectly demure and I can hardly even see the swell of her breasts from this angle.