by B. B. Hamel
And I didn’t know why I cared. I was just seeing Trip, who just happened to be the king. I didn’t want to impress him, and I genuinely didn’t care if I insulted him. I’d already slapped the guy in the face and caused a minor scandal; I doubted I could do worse by wearing something inappropriate.
Still, I found myself caring about how I looked around him, and that told me something about how I felt about him. I wasn’t happy about it, but I couldn’t deny the obvious. I cared about what Trip thought.
Though I shouldn’t have worried much. Trip wasn’t exactly shy about what he thought. The man seemed to basically say whatever came to mind and didn’t care if it was inappropriate or something like that.
Finally, our walk ended in front of a normal-looking door. Al knocked twice and then waited.
After a few seconds, the door opened. Trip smiled out at us. “Thanks for bringing her, Al,” he said.
“Of course, Your Highness,” he answered, and then turned and left.
Trip grinned at me. “Welcome to my corner of the castle.”
He was wearing simple black dress slacks and a white button-down shirt, the top button left open, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked like he had been at a blue tie event all day but had just gotten home.
“This is your apartment?”
“Yes,” he said. “Come on in.”
Feeling a jolt of excitement, I stepped through the door and looked around.
It looked like a pretty normal apartment. I had expected a lot of fancy things, more gold and more paintings, but instead it was pretty low-key. It actually looked pretty clean and modern, almost industrial. There was a couch, a television, some chairs, a deck, a table, a kitchen area, several doors, and another hallway leading toward the back.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s nice,” I said.
“You don’t sound like you think it’s nice.”
“It’s simple. I didn’t expect that.”
He laughed, walking into the kitchen area. I followed him. “Well, you get sick of all that crap after a while. When I’m here, I’m home, so I try to leave all that royalty nonsense behind.”
“Have you always lived here?”
“More or less,” he said. “I’ve lived in other places, but when I’m in the castle, these have always been my rooms.”
He pulled out a chair for me, and I sat. He went over to the counter and opened a bottle of wine, pouring two glasses. I accepted one and sipped it as he sat down across from me.
“What’s on the menu?” I asked him. “Or are we just drinking?”
“We can just drink if you like,” he said, “but I planned on having the chef send us something up. I told him to surprise us.”
“Great,” I said. “What if I had some allergies?”
“You don’t,” he said, smiling at me. “I read your file.”
I frowned. “There’s no file.”
“Of course there’s a file. We vetted you to marry me, remember?”
I sighed. “I tried to forget.”
“There it is, you pretending not to like it again.”
“Fortunately, I don’t have to pretend like I don’t want to marry you.”
“Maybe, but you do have to pretend like you don’t want me to press you up against this castle wall and feel that dripping pussy with the tips of my fingers.”
“Do you always talk like this?”
“Only when I want something very badly.” That smile was so wicked, I had to sip my drink and cross my legs. “How would you prefer I spoke, Bryce?”
“I don’t know. How about you tell me about the rebels?”
He paused. I could tell I had surprised him there. “What about them?”
“Well, they want democracy. That can’t be a bad thing.”
He sighed. “Maybe. In your country, democracy is all well and good, but here in Starkland, we’ve had a monarchy for many hundreds of years. People don’t understand a democracy. They’re not ready for it.”
“You can teach them.”
He shrugged. “The rebels are teaching them enough.”
“They’re killing people,” I said.
“Yes,” he agreed, “they are.”
“But so are you. I’ve read some bad things about your royal army.”
“So have I,” he agreed. “Not all of it is true, but some of it is. That’s the problem with a war, especially a civil war. It’s always bloody and always worse than we think it will be.”
I shook my head slowly. “It can’t be so simple for you.”
He sighed, putting down his drink. “My people are dying, Bryce. It’s not simple.”
That surprised me. There was genuine emotion in his eyes. I didn’t think he was a heartless bastard, but he did seem like a playboy who didn’t think much about suffering.
That look he gave me, though, said otherwise.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. “Come,” he called out, and then servants flooded the space.
I sat back and watched, completely taken aback.
Ten rolling trays were wheeled into the small kitchen, each one manned by a different server. They proceeded to take the tops off the dishes as servants placed plates and silverware around us. I sat there, basically as still as a statue, while Trip watched me, smiling. The servants were fast and efficient, and soon they began to place food in front of us.
The spread was incredible: rich soup, hearty breads, all different kinds of meats and vegetables cooked in sauces I could barely describe. Once we had plates placed in front of us, Trip stood up.
“Thank you, gentleman,” he said. “If you’ll excuse us.”
The servants bowed in unison and then disappeared.
When they were gone, Trip sat back down. I laughed, genuinely amazed, shaking my head.
“Do you do that for all the ladies?” I asked.
“Only the special ones,” he said. “Dig in. Enjoy.”
We began to eat, and I had to admit that it was incredible. Starkland wasn’t a famous country or a big country, but its food was delicious, and that was basically my main criteria for whether a country was great or not.
According to this meal, Starkland was truly a magnificent country.
“What do you think?” Trip asked after a minute of silence while we ate.
“It’s delicious,” I said honestly. “I’m finally impressed.”
“Interesting. It took food to impress you.”
“I guess I have my weaknesses.”
He smiled, nodding slowly. “Yes. I guess we all do. I can’t wait to find out a few more.”
“I have no more weaknesses,” I said.
“I doubt that very much.”
I shook my head and dug into my food. Soon we began to fall into a normal conversation. He asked me questions about what my life was like back home, and I got him to tell me funny stories about growing up in the castle.
Time slowly flowed past like that. Eventually I even forgot that I was having a meal with a king. Instead, I was just eating with Trip, some asshole I happened to know.
Except he wasn’t such a huge asshole, at least not all the time. When he told me about how he got lost as a very little boy, wandering the halls of the castle and crying, he wasn’t being an asshole. And he wasn’t an asshole when he told me about crawling around underneath banquet tables during a royal dinner, tying people’s shoes together.
It was surprisingly nice. When we finished eating, Trip hit a button on his control panel and a few minutes later some servants came and cleared away the mess. Once they were gone, he poured us more wine and we sat on his couch.
“That’s convenient,” I said to him once the last servant was gone.
“I can’t complain,” he admitted. “Being king has perks.”
“I’m sure you always had those perks.”
He grinned. “Got me there.”
“This has been nice,” I admitted, sipping my wine.
“Good.
I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“You’re not so bad when you’re not being a dick.”
He laughed, grinning at me. “That’s what I like about you, Bryce. Not afraid to speak your mind.”
“I guess you’re not used to that.”
“That’s true. Not a lot of people will say whatever they want to the king.”
“Well, you’re not my king.”
“No. Not yet at least.” He smiled dangerously at me. “But I want to be. I’d love to see you on your knees, calling me ‘Your Highness.’”
I sighed, looking away, but I felt a thrill run through me. “There it is. You had to ruin it.”
“Listen,” he said, sitting back. “I have an idea. You were saying how democracy is better than monarchy earlier, but I want to show you otherwise.”
“That’s not exactly what I said.”
“Well, either way, I want to show you my city. I want you to see the good we do.”
I frowned. “Is it safe?”
“Of course. You’ll be with the king. It’ll be the safest you could ever be.”
“I read that there were rebels in Stehen.”
“Some maybe, but we have it under control.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
“Good. I’ll send for you tomorrow morning.”
I stood up, putting my glass down on the coffee table. “I should get going.”
“You don’t need to run off. There’s plenty more wine, and besides, I haven’t seen you in those panties yet.”
“Maybe another time.”
“You forgot to add ‘Your Highness’ at the end.”
I smiled, trying to suppress the sudden and overwhelming desire to throw myself at him.
“You’ll never hear me say that.”
“I think I will.” He stood up and stepped close to me. “And sooner than you think.”
I shook my head and quickly turned away. I walked across the room and opened the door.
“Good night, Bryce.”
I glanced back at him, at his cocky grin, at his beautiful body, his devilishly handsome face, and then left.
I had to get out of there. I could feel my willpower crumbling. Because the truth was, I did want to get on my knees in front of him, though I didn’t want to do much talking.
Trip brought the worst out in me. He made me dream of dirty things. He made my pussy dripping wet, my mouth hungry for his.
I should keep away, but I knew I wasn’t going to.
12
TRIP
It was a bright, beautiful morning in Stehen. I stood next to my favorite black BMW while the security detail went about their preparations.
I was excited, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. I was taking an American girl out on a tour of the city. That in itself wasn’t anything special at all, and it was supposed to be below the fucking king. Still, I was looking forward to it more than anything lately.
Finally, I saw Bryce emerge from the castle’s interior. I smiled at her as she waved at me. She was wearing a cute as fucking hell blue sundress. I loved the way her legs looked in it, and I couldn’t help but glance at her full breasts. The girl was absolutely gorgeous.
“Nice morning,” she said as she got to me.
“It is,” I agreed.
“How’s this going to work? Are these guys going to drive us around?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I expressly forbade them. You’ll be with me.”
“Really? I’m shocked.”
“Scandalous, I know. Unfortunately, they’ll be ahead and behind us the whole time.”
“Good. I was worried for a second.”
I laughed and then got into the car. She went around to the passenger’s side and climbed in herself. We waited a minute for the security detail to get themselves situated, and then finally we were ready.
I fired up the engine. “I love this car,” I said.
“Really? It’s nice, but it’s not what I’d imagine a king would drive.”
“Like I said last night, sometimes I like to put all that king shit behind me.”
She gave me a look as we pulled out into the heavy morning Stehen traffic.
The city was laid out in a simple grid. The castle was in the very center of the grid, and the city stretched out all around it. We were headed into north Stehen, which was also known as historic Stehen. This was the oldest part of the town and was where most tourists wound up.
“Historic Stehen,” I said as we pulled onto an old cobblestone street.
“Very nice,” she said. “I love this architecture.”
“Beautiful, no? We try very, very hard not to update everything too much. If something old falls apart, we rebuild it as close as possible to the original, though of course with modern amenities. We’re old on the outside, but we’re very young on the inside.”
“I like that,” she said.
“Good.” I pointed out some local landmarks, statues, and famous shops as we drove through the streets. We began to make our way toward west Stehen, which was really what I wanted to show her.
“This is my favorite part of the city,” I said to her as we pulled down a narrow street.
West Stehen was not as nice as north Stehen. In fact, it was probably the worst part of the city. Most of the poor congregated there, near the waterways, but it was the liveliest part of the whole town.
We pulled over in front of a squat, gray building. I turned off the engine.
“Beautiful,” she said. “Really nice.”
I laughed. “This isn’t an architecture tour.”
“What is it then?”
“Watch.”
We sat there together in silence for a few minutes before finally the doors to the building opened up. People spilled out of them, people of all shapes and sizes and ages and races.
“This is one of the many Stehen food banks,” I said. “If you live in Stehen and you’re hungry, we will feed you. There are hundreds of these all over the city.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Really. We pay for it out of the royal treasury. Any citizen is eligible, though we prefer that people use it only if they need it.”
“That’s very nice,” she said.
“In Stehen, we have food banks, free clinics, and even free lodging for the poorest of the poor. We take care of our people here.”
“We have this back in America too, you know,” she said.
“You do,” I agreed, “but not like here. Nobody is turned away, ever. If every single person in this city showed up here in the next hour, every single person would be fed. Every single day, three meals a day.”
“That’s amazing,” she said.
“And the clinics offer as much free medical care as possible,” I said. “Our country has universal healthcare, and I truly believe that healthcare is a right for all people.”
“Very progressive,” she said.
I laughed. “I’m not telling you this to impress you,” I said, “though I don’t mind it if you’re impressed. I want you to understand that just because we aren’t a democracy, that doesn’t mean we’re tyrants.”
“You don’t seem like a tyrant,” she said. “But shouldn’t the people have a say in who rules them?”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “Maybe they do. But right now, they’re fed and healthy and almost all of them have a place to sleep at night. Things are good here.”
“Except for the rebels.”
I sighed. “Yes, except for them.” I pulled back out into traffic and we resumed our tour.
I pointed out the historic bread bakery, an old hotel that was rebuilt hundreds of times over the years because they kept insisting on leaving candles burning all night long, and many other places.
Finally, we pulled down a narrow alley. “I have one last thing to show you,” I said, “but I want a little privacy.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Instead of answering, I swun
g the wheel hard to the right.
The tires screeched as I accelerated down the side alley. The front security car slammed on their brakes, but it was too late. The following car stayed behind me.
I came to the end of the alley and wove through traffic, speeding up. The big security truck had a hard time keeping up in the narrow streets. We came to a red light, but I blew through it, blaring the horn.
“What are you doing?” Bryce called out, but I just laughed. We made it through the intersection no problem, and the following truck had to stop.
I made a quick series of turns and then finally slowed down. “I think we lost them,” I said.
“Are you crazy?”
“Maybe,” I admitted, laughing. “But, man, that was fun.”
“You scared the hell out of me. Tell me if you’re going to do something insane next time.”
“Why? It was more fun my way.” I smirked at her and drove for a few more minutes before finally coming to a stop.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Come on. Let me show you.”
We climbed out of the car and began to walk down a narrow alley.
“Wait,” she called. “Hold on. We should wait for the security detail to find us.”
I waved her off and kept moving. I heard her run to catch up, and she walked close behind me.
The alleyway ended in a large, dusty courtyard. It was closed in on most sides by buildings all around it. In the center of the courtyard was a large, round fountain.
I walked up to the fountain and sat down on the rim. Bryce walked toward me cautiously.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“West Stehen,” I said. “Well, on the fringes. This is one of my favorite spots in the city.”
“Why did we have to lose the security to come here?”
I gestured for her to sit. “Come on, sit down. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She sighed and sat down. “Now, tell me.”
“When you live in the public eye, there are very few truly private spaces left. Even my apartment feels public sometimes. But this is one of the last places in the whole city I can go to that nobody knows about. If I brought them, they would ruin it.”