Permanently Princess

by Marianne Knightly

  He brought her cupped face close to his. “Charlotte. Are you all right?”

  She nodded against his palm, then leaned down to kiss him long and sweet.

  He broke the kiss this time. “You’re not going very fast, Charlotte-mine.”

  “I’ll go fast. I just want to go slow first.”

  His lips split in a smile. “Christ, I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” She kissed him hard and deep. “A lot.”

  His voice was gruff. “Charlotte.”

  She kissed his wrist against, let it go, and moved to his chest—God, his chest was magnificent—and kissed the swallow over his heart. He’d said it symbolized devotion to Valleria and his family.

  Now it also symbolized devotion to her.

  She sucked his nipple, and his body arched off the bed, his hands moving to her hair. She moved to the other nipple, adding a quick nip of teeth, and he let out a low, deep growl.

  She did that to him. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe it.

  She kissed down his chest, kissing more scars as she went, and dipped her tongue in his belly button. Then she moved to her favorite tattoo.

  It was one they shared. One they’d gotten after their ceremony and honeymoon, such as it was. Tattoos that also hid the scars on the side of their bodies where they’d been shot.

  Matching vines that twined along their sides, leaves—some filled with names, some blank—were etched there, too. She kissed her name on one of his leaves.

  He had more tattoos along his back and the back of his legs, but his cock was begging for her mouth, so she went there next.

  She covered the head and licked the pre-cum on the tip. His ass tightened, and his hips jumped.

  “Christ, Charlie.”

  She sucked him deep, then licked him like a lollipop. She cupped his balls and squeezed at the just the right moments to keep him on edge. She kept at him for several minutes until his blazing eyes met hers in warning.

  He was close. She didn’t mind swallowing, but she wanted him inside her.

  She gave him one last lick, then crawled up his body. As soon as they were nearly face-to-face again, he flipped her on her back.

  “My turn.”

  Her body arched as he began to roam her body with his lips. He spent time sucking and biting her nipples, just as she’d done to him, then moved down to the core of her.

  He once again paused as he’d done on the couch. This time, he pressed a soft kiss into her pubic hair. God, that was sweet.

  His sweetness, his tenderness was something else she loved.

  His fingers shifted over her, then gently into her. She wasn’t very wet—normal for her, no matter how hot Nate was—but he knew how to coax her body by now. Knew just what it took to send her flying.

  His other hand reached for the bedside drawer and pulled out their vibrator. It was a new style, small and compact, that was made to fit against her body and nestled against her clit, leaving them both hands-free.

  It also boasted several, very handy speed settings.

  He slipped it on her, then set it to low.

  She gasped as her clit began pulsing, and a slow warmth washed over her.

  His fingers were still moving inside her, his eyes watching her body climb higher.

  That was the hottest thing of all: her body spread wide and open, no secrets or shame between them, while a naked Nate with a hard cock watched the show. With their new vibrator, he was now also able to stroke himself while her body heated to the right degree.

  Nate, on his knees between her spread legs, stroking his cock that was still wet from her mouth, all while his fingers stroked her.

  God, it was hot.

  She moaned when he turned the vibrator on higher.

  “That’s it, Charlotte-mine.”

  “Nate.” She was writhing on the bed, her knees cocked and toes curling.

  He turned it up to the highest setting.

  “Oh God.” Her hips leapt off the bed, and she palmed her breasts, which felt so tight and wonderful. She pulled at her own nipples, sending sparks of heat back to her core.

  Nate’s fingers paused inside her, and she whimpered.

  “Do you want me inside you?”

  Her neck arched, and her hips tried to get his fingers to move. “You are inside me.”

  He removed his fingers and coated her wet along her thighs and traced the ‘v’ along her hips. “Do you want my cock?”

  She didn’t have to think about that answer. “Yes.”

  “Say it.”

  “I want your cock.”

  His voice was a muted roar. “Again.”

  “Give me your cock!”

  He plunged his cock inside.

  “Is this what you wanted?”

  “God, yes.”

  He pulled her hands away from her breasts and joined them with his above her head.

  “Take it then. Take my cock.”

  Their mouths connected. She swallowed his grunts, and he swallowed her gasps.

  She was getting closer to that elusive peak. Before him, she’d always get distracted because the man she was with would get frustrated.

  Nate never got frustrated. He was always patient, always waited for her to find it before he took it for himself.

  More reasons to love him.

  She tore her mouth away. “I love you.”

  He thrust faster. “Charlotte.”

  “God, I love you so much.”

  Her own words set her off, the peak now rushing towards her, and she screamed as she came.

  He thrust harder until he finally emptied himself inside her. “Charlie!”

  She collapsed against the bed as it left her. The only sounds in the room were their harsh breathing and the low hum of the vibrator.

  He slid lazily in and out of her for another minute, then withdrew and took out the vibrator and turned it off. He tossed it on the nightstand and pulled her against him.

  Her favorite place to be was in his arms, naked or no. Before him, she’d only ever loved being in a kitchen. It was the only place she’d felt safe and confident. Now, she felt safe everywhere, but especially here.

  He rubbed a hand over her hip. “Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head against his chest. The swallow was just above her nose so she kissed it, nuzzled it, then settled again.

  “Christ, you’re sweet.”

  “Only for you.”

  He kissed her forehead. “For everyone.”

  “I’m a tough bitch.”

  He chuckled. “That you are, but you’re a sweet bitch, too. Even with your own worries, you were looking after Rebecca today, helping her and Grace. Even when you thought my parents hated you—which they don’t—you were thinking of what that meant for me, not you.”

  He tilted her chin up so their eyes met. “You take very good care of me.”

  That warmed her, filled her with hope that maybe she’d do okay at this wife and mother thing. “I’m glad. Sometimes I worry about it.”

  “Don’t,” he said immediately. “You’re a wonderful woman, a wonderful lover, a wonderful wife, and you’ll be a wonderful mother, too.”

  She was going to start crying again. Damn fucking hormones. Were they supposed to kick in so early? “You forgot to add kickass baker and leader of the kitchens.”

  He smiled broadly. “You are that, too. Do you want to keep working through the pregnancy? After it?”

  “Yes. After…I’d like to. I’d miss it, I think, if I didn’t at least try working after the kid’s born.”

  “It’ll be hard for you once we announce the marriage. Harder still once we announce the baby in a few months.”

  She’d known this was coming. “I figured, but it’s okay. We’ll get through it.”

  His arm tightened around her. “Yes, we will.”

  She saw a shadow in his eyes. “What is it?”

  “Charlie.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well…”

&nb
sp; Jesus. What was going on? “Spit it out.”

  He cleared his throat, then wrapped both arms around her, as if to keep her in place. “Something you may not have considered.”

  She couldn’t hide the wariness in her voice. “What?”

  “If Alex and Rebecca never have a child—I’m not saying they won’t, but if they don’t—then, well, our child could become the next heir to the throne.”

  Her body locked.

  He didn’t miss it. “It’s just a possibility. Cat and Eddie could have children, but if they don’t and Alex doesn’t—and it’s not likely Marcello and Grace will have their own children—then it would be our child.”

  “Oh my God.”

  She could potentially be giving birth to the future king or queen of Valleria.

  Her.

  Charlie.

  Raised in the foster system because of her shitty parents, American-born Charlie.

  “Holy shit.”

  “Don’t worry about that yet.”

  “You had to put that in my head? I wasn’t worried enough about just raising the kid as a kid, now you want me to worry about raising the kid to run a country?”

  His voice was firm, but not harsh. “Take a breath, Charlie. Don’t get panicked.”

  Shit. Right. Avoid panic attacks. That was pregnancy one-oh-one for her.

  “That’s it. Take another breath. This is why I wanted to tell you when you were with me, if you weren’t aware already. I thought it might upset you.”

  “I’m freaking out.”

  “Charlotte.”

  She shook her head. “But I’m okay. I’m freaking out, but I’m okay.”

  He loosened his hold to brush a hand over her hair. “Sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m just…not going to think about it. At least, not until I need to.” Like the birth. Avoiding thinking about the birth and this until she had to seemed like a great idea.

  She wasn’t avoiding the subjects, exactly. She was just going to wait until she could process each of those things better, which wasn’t mere days after she found out she was pregnant.

  It could wait at least until a few more days—or maybe several months—couldn’t it?

  “I love you, Nate.”

  He settled deeper into her. “I love you, too, Charlotte-mine.”

  They made out, soft and sweet for several minutes.

  After they finished and then cleaned up, in the warmth of Nate’s arms, after a really long fucking day, they easily went to sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  The knock at their bedroom door startled Alex, which meant—since he was holding his wife tight in his arms—she startled, too.

  Rebecca had barely slept once they’d returned from the hospital last night. Today hadn’t been much better; she’d barely eaten anything, hadn’t really gotten out of bed, and she’d only fallen asleep thirty minutes ago.

  He’d done everything he could think of to help her. He didn’t push her to eat much or get out of bed—how could he when he wanted to do the same?—and he’d held her whenever she had reached for him. It had been a hellish haze of grief the past twenty-four hours, and they’d both needed rest to help the healing. Finally, he thought they’d achieved actual, restful sleep.

  Now, they—and most importantly Rebecca—had just been woken up. Which meant he was going to kill whoever was at the door.

  “What’s going on?”

  Her voice was groggy and a little out of it, something it hadn’t been that morning. He wondered if he should call the doctor. “Someone’s at the door. I’ll make them go away.”

  She nodded and curled into him again.

  He’d have to let go of his wife to answer the door, which meant he was really going to kill whoever was behind it.

  He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back.” He eased away from her and out of the bed. Then he pulled the covers up over her shoulder. He brushed another chaste kiss on her head before moving towards the door.

  After they’d returned from the hospital, he’d immediately carried her back to their bedroom. He’d undressed her and slipped something comfortable and loose on her body but hadn’t changed himself until that morning. He’d simply taken off his shoes and tossed his jacket and tie in the direction of the chair in their bedroom—he missed—and had fallen asleep in them so they’d become wrinkled. The casual clothes he now wore were wrinkled, too, and he found he could not care in the slightest, no matter who was beyond that door.

  He slipped out of the bedroom, gently shut the door, and spoke low to the agent standing behind it. His voice was clipped and frustrated. “What is it? I told you we’re not to be disturbed.”

  The agent—who’d been with him at the hospital and knew what had happened—nodded. “I understand, Sir. I apologize. The king and queen are here and would like to speak to you as soon as possible.”

  He bet they did. Before slipping into bed with Rebecca, he’d taken a moment to message the family, then he’d given his agents orders not to let anyone in, either through the main door or the secret passages. The only exception should have been Rebecca’s parents, who he’d also broken the news to and were currently on their way back from a vacation in Italy.

  His parents, however, were another story. Orders barring them didn’t apply. His agents wouldn’t disobey a direct order from them, even if it contradicted one he’d given.

  Alex sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “All right. Tell them I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Yes, Sir. Is there anything we can get you or the Princess?”

  He wasn’t sure anything would make Rebecca feel better right now. As for himself, he’d been too busy seeing to her to even process everything that had happened.

  His wife had needed him. Everything else took a back seat to that, even his own emotions.

  “Nothing at the moment, thank you.”

  The agent nodded and walked away.

  Alex watched him go. It occurred to him that the staff loved Rebecca, too. Though they’d keep the miscarriage quiet—non-disclosure agreements helped to ensure that—they’d probably be worried about her, too.

  He took a breath, then went to his parents. As soon as he entered the sitting room, he didn’t hesitate to speak. “I can understand why you’re here, but now is not the time.”

  Gabriel stood and walked over to him, wrapping him in his arms. “My son.”

  Damn. Shit. Holy fucking hell. He wasn’t upset at the hug; he loved hugs from his father. But it was making him feel, and he couldn’t process this loss now, not until he knew Rebecca was well enough, at least physically.

  Alex patted his father on the back and pulled away. “Thank you, Papa. Truly. But—”

  “Rebecca?” his mother asked, then came over to give him a hug as well.

  He had to hold on, he had to hold on, he had to hold on.

  He gave his mother a kiss on the head and stepped back. “Thank you, Mama. Rebecca’s resting. She’s not up for seeing anyone right now.”

  His parents exchanged glances and then his father spoke. “Be that as it may, my son, we do need to speak to both of you.”

  Alex was already shaking his head.

  “Please, my son. We wouldn’t ask at a time like this if we didn’t feel we could help you both.”

  He thought back to that wretched, fluorescent-tinged hospital room and the pain his wife had endured during the procedure, her face wet with quiet tears.

  What could they possibly do to help? “You’re not asking though, are you? You’re insisting.”

  His mother took his hand. “We’re only insisting to a point. We’re not trying to be intrusive, even though I know it seems that way. We want to help, and we think talking to both of you will be more helpful sooner rather than later. If not right now, then perhaps tomorrow.”

  “We understand she’s grieving, my son, that you both are. We…understand that grief and just want to help her and you.”

  Holy hell. What the fuck did that mean? “Let
me see if she’s awake. If she is and doesn’t want to see you, you’ll have to leave.”

  “Of course, my son. We’ll respect her wishes.”

  But not his? Didn’t his opinion matter? Hadn’t he also just lost a child?

  Not now. Hold it in.

  He took a breath and walked back to the bedroom. The bed was empty, but he heard her in the bathroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed, on her side, his hand going over the rumpled covers. Her warmth was still there.

  He slumped over, his forearms on his knees, head hanging low, hands hanging free. He caught the glint of his wedding ring in the dim light. It had been one of the happiest times of his life.

  This was, without a doubt, one of the worst fucking times of his life thus far.

  The bathroom door opened, and he sat up straighter as Rebecca shuffled out. Her shoulders were slumped, her hair now pulled back in a simple ponytail. Her eyes—those gorgeous brown eyes he loved—were so fucking sad. He’d never felt more useless in his life than when he’d been in that exam room, unable to do anything but hold her hand and her gaze as she went through everything.

  Seeing those eyes, however, made him feel even more useless, and he hadn’t thought that could be possible.

  “Do you need anything, darling?”

  She shook her head and continued her shuffle to the bed, sitting down with a loud sigh. “Who was at the door?”

  He shifted his body when he saw her move to get under the covers. “An agent. My parents would like to see you, to speak to both of us. I can get rid of them if you want.”

  She sat back against the headboard and pulled the covers up to her waist, then sighed again, as if it had taken all her energy to make to the bathroom and back. Considering what she’d gone through over the last couple days, he didn’t doubt it was true.

  “I guess it’s okay.”

  He took her hand. “You can say no. They’ll understand.”

  “No, let’s talk to them. The sooner we get it over with the better. Then I’ll go back to sleep.”

  “Can you eat anything? Even drink anything?”