“Can I measure you?” the sales girl asks. I turn to her with a smile and nod.
“What size brassiere are you wearing?” she asks with narrowed eyes.
“A 36D,” I explain.
“No,” she gasps. “You’re tiny in the ribs; you’re a 34. And your breasts are not a D, you’re a DD,” she explains. I stare at her slack jawed, unbelieving of her words. No way am I that big, neither could I be that small around.
“Trust me,” she chuckles.
I’m guided into the dressing room, and when I try on my first bra, I almost weep. It’s the most comfortable bra I have ever put on my body. I exclaim as much, and the sales girl giggles. I ask her name and she offers it as Harper.
I spend the next hour trying on the sexiest pieces of lingerie. Harper brings them to me one right after the other, and Sarah takes them from me to purchase.
I’ve never liked my naked body, but encased in these pieces, I look hot. They fit my frame perfectly and showcase the best parts of me, lifting what needs to be lifted, whether my breasts or my ass. I’ll never wear anything else again.
When it’s time for me to finish, I look down at my old bra and panties and frown. Then Sarah throws some more lingerie over the top of the door.
“Wear that out of here, throw your old stuff away,” she hollers.
“Really?” I ask.
“Really.”
We spend the rest of the morning shopping. We’ve hit every single store in The Royal Exchange, and I’m starving.
Unfortunately, there’s no time to break for lunch as we need to hurry to the salon. When we arrive, my mouth waters at the sight of the little buffet that is set up.
“Knew you would be famished,” Sarah says as she loads a couple of plates for us.
I don’t listen to her talking to the stylist as I’m too busy shoving small croissant sandwiches in my face.
“Your hair is to die for,” the hair dresser mutters as he takes it out of the braid.
“It’s wild and so hard to tame,” I explain through bites of my food.
“I hate to, but I know that it’s what will be most appealing to your new family. I suggest Keratin Hair Straightening.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Some people call it a Brazilian Blowout,” he says.
I remember hearing some of the girls at the Medical Spa talk about Brazilian Blowouts. I chew on my bottom lip, wondering if this is going to ruin my hair for life. I don’t love my wild mass of hair, but I’m not sure I want it to be straight all of the time, either.
“Caitriona, it will be best for the polished look we’re going for,” Sarah gently explains.
I nod my agreement, hoping that I’m not making a huge mistake. I close my eyes while the hairdresser does his magic. It takes forever, and by the time he’s finished I’m not only tired of sitting but I’m just plain tired. I want to go home, curl up on the sofa with a good book and just be.
I’ve shopped all morning, and we’ve begun purchasing a wardrobe that is sophisticated, yet still young. It’s not quite as conservative as Beatrice’s, but still nicer than anything I have ever owned. It’s stressful, but I’m entrusting Sarah with whatever she thinks I need.
“You need more clothes. After this, we’re just doing clothes, no more shoes or accessories,” Sarah announces as the makeup artist is explaining to me about contouring—something I’m never going to be able to do on my own.
“More?” I groan.
“You have some good pieces, but you need some more basics to get you started,” she explains.
“I feel like we’ve bought enough to outfit three women, at least,” I whine.
Sarah challengingly lifts an eyebrow, and I shut my whining mouth. It doesn’t matter how I feel about spending more time trying on ridiculous clothes. It’s what needs to be done, for Henrik.
“Off to Harvey Nichols,” Sarah announces as we walk out of the salon beside Hugh.
“More?” he questions, making me giggle.
“I said the same thing,” I grin.
We spend the rest of the afternoon in the biggest department store I have ever seen. By the end of the day, I have enough shoes, handbags, accessories, and clothes to outfit a small country.
I’m exhausted, completely and totally exhausted.
I even fall asleep in the car on the way home.
MY PHONE BUZZES IN MY hand and I grin. It’s a photograph of Caitriona in Harvey Nichols, trying on a beautiful evening gown. I send a text to Sarah telling her to purchase it.
Eveningwear is an important part of her new life, and she needs to have a few items in her closet for last minute occasions. Sarah explains that Riona is knackered, and they’ll be leaving shortly to come back to the flat.
Then my office phone rings and I answer it, not responding to Sarah but still focusing on the photo of Riona with slicked, straight hair. She looks lovely, but I already miss her curly mane.
“Hello,” I mumble distractedly.
“Did you get rid of her?” my father asks, not beating around the bush.
“I’ve decided I’m not going to,” I state.
“Then you’ll be relinquishing your title and the titles of your heirs?” he asks.
“I don’t want to, and I really don’t think that it’s something that I should be threatened with. I’ve not done anything wrong. Though my decision wasn’t thoroughly planned or thought out, Caitriona is a good woman. Her mother’s past is not the best, but there’s been nothing other than her lack of breeding that has come to light in the paperwork you’ve provided,” I explain.
There hasn’t, either. Riona comes from a mother who is trash—plain and simple. But she is not that. Riona is nothing like that. She’s had less than a handful of lovers, all relationships, her one night with me being the only wild thing I’ve found in her past. She’s held steady jobs.
She may not have been able to afford college, but she’s always been able to take care of herself, no matter how meagerly she’s lived. She’s completely self-sufficient, and I like that about her. I respect her, and truly, I admire her.
“Do you think you’ll be able to teach her how to be a princess or a duchess? Those are things that are born inside of you. They cannot be taught,” he explains.
“If you mean can I teach her to behave like Eugenie? No, I cannot, and I will not. She’s a good woman, father. You would do well to give her a chance, privately and without attacking her. I think you would like her. She’s sweet and kind.”
“I’m not changing your mind, am I?” he asks, sounding exasperated.
“No. Although, last night, you almost did,” I chuckle. “Threatening my heir’s titles is a low blow.”
“I think your grandfather will calm down. Maybe not today or tomorrow, maybe not next year, but he will, eventually. However, I want you to know that I’m not supporting, nor am I condoning this relationship,” he announces.
I almost laugh.
If the whole situation wasn’t so fucked up, I just might.
He starts talking to me about the upcoming calendar for Philip and Beatrice’s wedding, plus a few other familial obligations that are coming in the next few months.
Then he explains that there will be a tea with Beatrice and mum next week, and that Caitriona needs to be in attendance as well.
I beg off after making a note, then see that a new text has arrived on my phone, informing me that my wife is downstairs and passed out asleep.
I chuckle to myself as I gather my things to meet her downstairs. Knowing Sarah, the Land Rover SUV is weighted down with garment and shoe bags.
Poor Hugh.
Once I arrive on the street sidewalk, I see that Sarah has enlisted the help of the doorman and a few other employees to help her with all of their purchases. I look from her to Hugh and see him standing beside the car, looking puzzled as he peers into the backseat.
“What is it?” I ask, walking up behind him.
“I wasn’t sure how to get he
r out of the car. She’s knackered; won’t wake up for anything,” he murmurs.
I look in and see that she’s completely leaning against the car door. If I open it, she’s sure to topple onto the hard concrete. I jog around the car and get in from the other side, crawling until I’ve reached her side. She looks so at peace, asleep in the car. I hate to wake her, but I must.
“Riona,” I murmur, shaking her slightly.
“Henny?” she sighs as her head swivels around and she eyes me fresh from sleep.
“Come on up home.”
I help her out of the car. She’s boneless and dragging. I almost laugh at how tired she is just from shopping. She clings to me as we exit the lift, and I pour her into bed before I help with her purchases. Once I’ve thanked and excused Sarah for the day, I make my way back to my wife.
I don’t bother closing the curtains, as the sun is setting and casting a pleasant glow that surrounds my sleeping beauty.
I frown at the fact that she’s still in her clothes for the day, so I go about stripping her so that she can nap more comfortably.
I curse in a hiss when I see what she’s got on underneath her clothes. These are definitely not the knickers she left with this morning.
What she’s wearing now is almost the exact shade of her skin and sheer; so fucking sheer, I can make out every single inch of her delectable skin. I slide my hand up her thigh to her hip, and then her waist before I gently run my finger on the underside of her tit.
I glance up to her face and see that her beautiful eyes are focused on my face.
“I have to apologize in advance,” she says, her voice thick and husky from sleep. I grunt, unable to form a fucking sentence.
“I went a little crazy in this lingerie store. Sarah kept bringing me things and they were just so lovely. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life,” she whispers.
I knit my brows together, knowing exactly what she means, but feeling sad. She should have always had beautiful underthings—she should have always had beautiful things. But she hasn’t, not like this, not ever. It is saddening. It makes me want to buy the entirety of the world’s beauty and lay it at her feet, to give that to her, to give her what she deserves.
“Never apologize for wanting lovely things. I’ll always approve of anything your heart desires,” I murmur, meaning every single word.
She doesn’t respond with words. Instead, she wraps her hands around my cheeks and tugs me further down, closer to her.
Then she presses her lips to mine and slides her tongue into my mouth. I take over the kiss, controlling it as I thrust my tongue into her waiting, warm, mouth.
I wrap my fingers around her hip as I break the kiss and back away as I roll her over to her stomach.
“These are truly lovely, but I need them off,” I rumble as I tug them down her shapely legs. “Spread your legs, precious.”
I watch as she rises to her hands and knees spreading her thighs for me. Her pussy is exposed, and I lick my lips at the soft pink flesh that greets me. I run my hands over the backs of her thighs, then her ass, grasping onto it before I spread her cheeks apart, my eyes focused on her pussy lips.
“Henny,” she whispers.
Releasing her, I strip my own boxers off before I align my dick with her sweet cunt. She’s slick with her want, and I close my eyes as I ease inside of her. She tenses as I seat myself inside of her, biting back the groan of pleasure at the tight glove wrapped around me.
“Fuck my cock. Show me how badly you want me,” I rasp.
Riona shifts forward a bit before she slams back against my pelvis. My hands fly to her hips and I hold onto her as she does it again. Christ, she feels good. I let her control her own movement, my eyes zeroed in on the way my cock disappears repeatedly into the heaven that is her cunt.
My hands circle her waist as I start to shift my hips and meet her thrusts with my own. Cupping her breasts, I feel the soft lace that covers them and her hard nipple poking through. I squeeze them as I pull her up slightly and thrust up inside of her, taking over.
“Play with that pretty clit, Riona,” I grunt as I continue to fill her over and over with my cock.
“I’m going to come,” she breathes with a whisper.
“Come all over me.”
“Henny,” she squeaks and then sighs before she moans.
I push her forward until she’s lying flat on the bed, my cock still pumping in and out of her tight cunt. I feel crazed with my need for her, my need to be inside of her.
I fuck her with all of my strength, knowing with her sweet little gasps that she’s probably tender, but I can’t stop myself.
“You feel like nirvana, precious,” I whisper into her ear as my cock continues to thrust inside of her, my hips pinning her to the bed.
“Henny,” she whimpers.
The simple way she rasps my name has my balls tightening as my orgasm rushes through me. It’s here, in this moment, that I realize how she owns me. I fill her pussy with my release as I press my lips to the back of her neck.
I’ll relinquish everything for her, just to have her in my arms as mine.
After shopping all day and spending a few hours wrapped in Henrik’s arms, I was famished, again. He ordered in for us, and I was grateful that I didn’t have to try and cook in his pristine kitchen—a place that looked like it was ripped from the pages of a magazine and had probably never been cooked in.
So in bed, me wearing nothing but his shirt, and Henrik wearing nothing but his boxer briefs, we ate dinner together. Takeaway, as Henrik called it, from a burger place in North London called Homeburger.
I didn’t think that London could do burgers better than the states. I was wrong. They aren’t exactly like home, but they are completely delicious.
“Better than America?” Henrik asks as if he’s reading my mind.
“Better? No, I don’t think anybody could make a burger better than this little hole in the wall place in Portland where James likes to go. But these come in a very close second, maybe even tied,” I grin.
A few minutes go by and we’re silently enjoying our dinner when Henrik turns to me. He looks concerned and then he speaks.
“I never thought I would have a wife that I could do this with,” he announces.
“Do what?” I ask around the last bite of my awesome burger.
“Sit in bed and eat burgers with after some epic fucking,” he shrugs.
I giggle at his words, but feel the exact same way. I never thought that I would have a husband, not really. I always thought I would be this single woman, destined to avoid matrimony like the plague, afraid I would turn into my mother. Here I am, though, married to a prince, a real prince, and I feel absolutely nothing like my mother.
I feel like the luckiest girl in the entire universe, and that doesn’t have anything to do with titles or status, and everything to do with the man at my side. The man who tells me I’m beautiful, who thinks I deserve expensive, sexy lingerie.
To the world, he’s Henrik Stuart. To me, he’s my Henny.
“Oh, you have tea with my mum and Beatrice next week. Tuesday, I believe,” he mutters.
“I do?” I ask, surprised that he’s changed the subject so quickly.
“My father rang and we went over some calendar items, that was one of them,” he shrugs.
I gather our trash and take it to the kitchen to toss it in the bin before I get some waters from the fridge, wondering what exactly this tea will consist of.
I like Beatrice, a lot, and Helena seems very quiet and reserved, but sweet. I hope that it isn’t too terrible. The whole situation of even seeing Henrik’s family again makes me nervous.
“Riona?” he questions as I hand him a bottle of water I retrieved.
“I’m just nervous about the future, about what’s to come with your family,” I murmur as I slide beside him in bed.
“Don’t be nervous. It will all work itself out,” he says.
He doesn’t sound quite convinced of
his own words, and that makes me even more anxious. I watch as he reaches for his phone before holding up to his ear.
“’ello,” Henrik says as he answers his phone.
I didn’t even hear it ring. Then I hear him chuckle before he hands the phone to me.
“Madison,” he says.
I grab the phone from him and put it up to my ear, feeling like I haven’t spoken to her in months. It’s only been days, but the days have been long and stressful.
“Hey,” I squeal in delight.
“Well, howdy, princess,” she laughs. “How’s London?”
“Different, but I went shopping all day long today, and you would have loved it,” I gush.
“Well, it’s up to you to take me when I make it for a visit,” she says.
We spend the better part of an hour chatting about her job, James, and she also tells me all about her doctor’s visit. It’s good to hear all about her happenings.
Then she tells me how she went to the MediSpa to tell them about my leaving. She says that Natasha’s face turned about five different shades of pissed off and that it was fantastic, that she wishes she would have recorded it for me.
“Tell me the truth. Are you happy?” she asks toward the end of our conversation.
“Right now? Yeah, I really am,” I admit.
“Just right now?”
“For right now. I honestly don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m scared for the future, but yeah. I’m happy,” I murmur as I lie down and curl up next to Henrik.
We end the call, promising to talk again really soon, and I feel somber as I press end, missing my friends back in Oregon.
“You okay?” Henrik asks, wrapping his arms around me after he sets his phone down on the nightstand.
“Just miss them,” I admit.
“Do you regret leaving?” he asks.
I lift my head and put my chin on his chest.
“No, not at all. If I stayed, then I wouldn’t be here, wrapped in your arms,” I murmur. “Doesn’t mean that I don’t miss them, though.”
“We’ll have to get them out here soon, give you a fix,” he grins.
Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale Page 16