The King's Surprise Bride: A Royal Wedding Novella (Royal Weddings Book 2)

by Vivien Vale

  "As long as it's public and totally free?" I tease.

  Look, it's not like I'm not going to give him shit about this. He's too cute, this is too silly, and he's way too much fun to make fun of.

  But my teasing has a price. Suddenly, Aaron grabs my wrist and presses me up against one of the bookshelves, holding my body there with his own weight.

  "Admit it," he says, his lips mere inches from mine. "You're a book-loving slut, and you think this is ridiculously charming."

  "Let's say I do." I bite my lip, focusing my gaze on his gorgeous mouth and considering how badly I want him to be kissing me with it right now. "What's in it for me?"

  Slowly, Aaron looks down the aisle one way, and then the other. Confirming that the coast is clear, he takes my jaw in his hands and kisses me with the passion that only a man who finds romance among books can provide.

  "Okay," I admit with a little laugh. "This is kind of hot."

  "That must make you a bibliophile." He grabs my hand and resumes tugging me deeper into the rows and rows of books. "If you liked that, then you'll love this."

  "I might," I coo after him.

  His legs are so damn long, and he's moving with such purpose that I have to trot along on my kitten heels just to keep up. "What is it?"

  "I'm buying you a book."

  If I'd only been drinking that fancy wine Aaron brought me, I could have done a spit take. Alas, Cassie has probably crushed that bottle single-handedly by now, and instead I can only ponder whether this is too romantic to be real or too lame for words.

  On one hand, I do love books. I really fucking love books. It's a thoughtful gesture, and it means that he's taken the time to pay attention to my interests. Major points.

  On the other...

  "Honey." I laugh. "You rich boys don't get out of your bathtubs full of money often enough. You don't buy books from libraries, dummy."

  "Trust me, dummy." Aaron shoots a grin over his shoulder that's probably worth a bathtub full of money in its own right. "It's a first edition. Incredibly rare. And us rich boys with bathtubs full of money have connections."

  A male librarian wearing a rainbow pin on his lapel nods in recognition of Aaron as we approach a section labeled Rare Books. Aaron slips him a wad of cash almost as thick as, well, Aaron’s cock.

  The librarian has to unlock a door for us to let us through. As I pass him, we share a look.

  His says (with sincerity), Nice fucking catch, dude. You're going to want to blow him when you get home.

  And mine says, Thanks, dude. But who says I'll wait until we get home?

  The librarian and I share a shit-eating grin as Aaron continues to pull me along, pointing out names and titles as we go along.

  "The Romances of Dumas," Aaron says, pointing to a gorgeous brown-and-gold hardcover.

  I giggle because he's playing tour guide in a fucking library, but I'm nonetheless a little charmed.

  "Count of Monte Cristo was too sad," I say with firm judgment. "He cared more about revenge than he did for love."

  "Three Musketeers?" Aaron asks.

  "Loved it. Beautiful book, first line to last."

  "Ah. Anna Karenina." Aaron points to a stark-white copy painted with silver leaf. "Incredible novel. Or do you have issues with Leo as well?"

  "Tolstoy?" I laugh, because Aaron is referring to famous Russian author Leo Tolstoy as though he was some kind of old friend. "I find all the Russian novelists a little dry. Too moralistic for my tastes."

  Aaron looks over his shoulder at me, appalled, and I stick out my tongue in defiance.

  "Anna was perfect," I conceded. "But Vronksy was a little too fond of his horse."

  "Are there any writers you do like, Chloe?" Aaron laughs.

  "Oh, I'm much more into the classics. You know, Stephanie Meyer, E.L. James, that sort of thing."

  "Ah." Aaron chuckles. "Have I told you before that you have impeccable taste?"

  "You have." I sigh, trying desperately to control my giggling. "But I'll never tire of hearing it!"

  "Here," Aaron says, plucking a book off the shelf like he'd memorized its exact location. "I've had my eye on this for a while, but I thought maybe you would enjoy it more."

  He passes it to me, and then I nearly really do swoon. It's a gorgeous blue hardcover, sturdy but definitely older than my grandparents are. It’s Edmond Rostand's Cyrano de Bergerac.

  "It's no Twilight," Aaron admits, "But I think you'll like it."

  I wrinkle my nose as I steal a glance at him, grinning ear to ear.

  "I've already read it," I tell him as I gingerly flip through the pages. "But never in the original French."

  "It's the only way I have read it."

  I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. "Tell me again what you do for a living?"

  "Impress beautiful women," Aaron shoots back with a grin. "Ah...'Oui, je veux être aimé moi-même, ou pas du tout!'"

  I smile to myself as Aaron struggles to remember the quote in French. His accent, as it turns out, is fine as hell—much like the rest of him—even if he's being a shady little bitch about what he does for work.

  "Mm," I moan, nodding my head as I try to spin a rough translation. "'I want to be loved for myself, or not at all.' Is that why you won't tell me where you work?"

  Aaron only grins.

  He's brilliant. He must be to know these books as well as I do. Admittedly, I've got a bad habit of dating beneath my IQ level, and I'm a little too impressed that he can be simultaneously this good-looking, this smart, this generous...

  This good at making me want him...

  "So you identify with Cyrano," I say, adding a little va va voom to my voice and fluttering my eyelashes. "That's interesting."

  "Well, you know. He's infamous for having a giant nose…I'm infamous for having a giant…"

  Both of our eyes drop to his crotch, where a thick outline is already forming in his pants.

  "Nose?" I finish for him with a giggle.

  Suddenly, for some reason, discussing literature isn't at the forefront of my mind anymore.

  "Surely you didn't bring be into the most secluded part of the library just to talk books," I say, setting Cyrano back on the shelf and moving toward him.

  "Admittedly, I may have had ulterior motives."

  "Luckily, I like men with huge…noses," I say, backing him up against the bookshelf.

  Aaron hisses as my lips press against his collarbone and my hand squeezes his cock through his pants.

  "I thought you might."

  "It's true." I smile against his chest before dropping to my knees. "In fact… ‘Il me faut un géant!’"

  I need a giant.

  Aaron

  Chloe drops to her knees before me like she’s forgotten where we’re at entirely.

  Hell. After all the shit she gave me about bringing her to the public library for our date, I didn’t think she’d ever let either of us forget it.

  But here she is now, grinding her knees against the tile floor and laying kisses up and down the front of my jeans like we’re in a luxury hotel room or the secluded privacy of my convertible.

  Chloe’s plump, gorgeous lips press hard through the denim. It makes me calculate the things separating my hard, throbbing cock and her wet little mouth like my life depends on it.

  Denim. A zipper. My boxer briefs. Then nothing.

  Three layers of clothes are all that separates Chloe’s perfect tongue from laying those sweet kisses up and down my dick.

  When I was a kid, I used to have nightmares about showing up at the library without any pants on. Pretty sure everybody does.

  But right now, that nightmare sounds like a fucking dream.

  Chloe’s lipstick is as red as my convertible. It leaves little lip prints up and down the crotch of my jeans. When we walk out of here, I realize, anyone we see is going to know exactly what Chloe and I went to the library for.

  And no matter how much we enjoy the written word, it’s pretty fucking obvious rig
ht now that the only thing we’re reading is each other’s bodies.

  Chloe is like a scientist, testing and making notes of my every reaction when one of her kisses presses up against the thickness of my cock.

  And me? I’m just the lucky son of a bitch who gets to lean back and enjoy being the test subject to Chloe’s blowjob experiment. If there were more labs like this one, every asshole on the planet would want to go into science.

  But Chloe and I aren’t scientists. No, we’re lit snobs. As she bites down on my zipper and drags it downward with her teeth; I can’t help but chuckle to myself.

  “You’re a dirty fucking slut, Chloe,” I say, smoothing down her hair as she successfully unzips my jeans. “One little book is all it takes to turn you from an intellectual lit nerd into a nasty little whore.”

  “Problem?” she asks, grinning up at me.

  “Not at all.”

  “I warned you. I fucking love books.”

  Chloe rubs her face up against the bulge in my jeans the way I’ve seen a cat rub up against a beloved human’s leg. I read somewhere that they do that to mark their territory. They signal to other cats that that human is theirs.

  Maybe that’s what Chloe is doing now—rubbing up against my cock so that other women will know who I belong to.

  Admittedly, belonging to slutty little Chloe doesn’t seem like that bad of a deal.

  “Do you realize how many people could be watching us right now?” I ask her. “Staring at this hot little piece of ass while she goes down on her knees around millions of dollars of near-priceless literature?”

  Sex in public isn’t something that many women usually go for after all. The fantasy of the danger might get them off, but going through with it, really, honestly getting down on their knees and worshiping a big fucking cock where anyone can see? That takes balls.

  As Chloe slides my boxers down to reveal my cock and dips her slick little lips down to kiss its base, I realize, and so does Chloe.

  She kisses my balls so sweet and so good that it knocks the wind out of my chest. My lips pull back in a snarl as, instinctively, I grab the back of her head and twist my fingers into her hair.

  So much of wanting Chloe is just instinct. Pure and simple. She’s sexy as fuck, she’s got the face of an angel, and she takes cock like a dream and she’s smart. Whip smart.

  She’s like a sexy librarian in her own right, though most of the librarians I know would take offense to that.

  Chloe licks my balls in long warm strokes of her tongue, and I imagine her like that for a moment—a fine-ass librarian that I can take the pencil skirt off and bend over the card catalog, fucking her until her horn-rimmed glasses fall off.

  God. I want to fuck Chloe until she’s too dumb to fucking read. Fuck her cross-eyed and stupid until all she’s good for is taking cock.

  Later, maybe I will.

  First things first, though.

  I want this girl’s hot little mouth, and if I have to take it, so be it.

  Chloe is currently sucking my balls into her mouth, first one then the other, then both at once. She looks up at me when she takes both of them, twitching her nose and giggling.

  Her laugh sends vibrations through them that feel so fucking good, I consider making her scream and seeing what that will feel like next. But more importantly, I realize…

  “You look like a slutty little chipmunk,” I say, unable to control my laugh.

  But laughing makes my cock twitch, and my cock twitching only makes me want to fuck this sexy fucking slut’s throat all the more.

  I pull Chloe’s head back, and my balls pop out of her mouth with a gorgeously wet little noise.

  She giggles again, and now I wish I was still inside her.

  “Slutty little chipmunk,” she repeats. “With my mouth full of nuts.”

  “Oh, I’ll give you a mouth full of nuts,” I growl.

  Chloe’s eyes fill with delight at the prospect as her mouth falls open into a soft little O.

  I take the opportunity to level my rock-hard ten-inch dick at it with one hand while I hold her head captive with the other.

  “Tell me you fucking want it.”

  “I want it worse than Sméagol wants the One Ring when he loses it in the Misty Mountains.”

  We share a look for a moment.

  She looks so fucking proud of herself I lose a little bit more of myself to her right there.

  Yes, Chloe. I got the fucking reference.

  Then I push my cock into her mouth before she starts reciting Homer’s Iliad and I lose myself to her completely.

  I don’t fuck slutty little nerds often. It’s not that I have anything against smart women—quite the opposite, frankly.

  But in the circles I usually travel in, the smart girls don’t know literature the way that Chloe knows literature. They don’t quote classic French poem-plays, and if they’re speaking French to me, it’s usually because they were born in France.

  I fuck models who are smart with fashion. Who can eyeball an evening gown and say with certainty whether it’s Christian Siriano or Alexander McQueen in an instant and what year it came out in on top of it.

  I fuck socialites who can name every single guest at a function, remember what they do, who they’re fucking, who they’ve already fucked, and who they’d like to fuck next.

  Sometimes, I fuck dumb sluts—girls who couldn’t hold a candle to Chloe and her fascinating opinions of Dumas and Tolstoy. Girls who think two plus two is whatever the fuck I tell them it is, as long as they can have my cock in their mouths and their hands on my big, fat wallet.

  But this isn’t like that.

  It’s not fucking like that at all.

  Chloe is more. Infinitely more. Intensely more.

  I want to spend hours with this girl, talking authors and works and words until sunrise.

  I want to buy her all of those designer labels and dress her up in the popular ones that she knows and the underground ones that she’ll come to love even more.

  I want to take her to charity galas and celebrity functions where she won’t know anyone’s fucking name unless she’s seen them on TV or in the news.

  And then, yeah, I want to drag her off to some secluded place like we’re in right now, and I want to fuck her stupid like the dumb slut I know she can become when she really wants to let herself go.

  And that’s where I’m at right now. I want to use Chloe’s whorish little mouth until her lipstick is smeared across her cheek in the same way she’s kissed it across the crotch of my jeans.

  We start slow. I’m fucking huge in the dick department, and even though Chloe talks a big talk with that big fucking mouth of hers, I can tell that she’s struggling to take even just the tip of it all the way past her wet fucking lips.

  But that’s the other thing with Chloe. I’m willing to go at her pace and let her take her time with it. I want to watch her swallow me up, inch by inch by inch.

  At least, I’m willing to do that until she starts licking my cock while it’s in her mouth like the cum-hungry slut she is.

  Then, well.

  Desperate times.

  I thrust deeper into her mouth, and Chloe’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

  I do it again, and I can feel her gag on my dick as it slides down her throat.

  Again. Again. She’s so fucking hot, so wet, and she looks so damn sweet with her mouth full of my cock that it nearly makes me lose my mind.

  Instead, I lose my load.

  Heat races up and down my body as I feel my muscles contract and convulse, shooting hot seed all the way to the back of Chloe’s throat. Rope after rope after rope of salty, creamy cum.

  “Swallow it,” I command. “All of it. Wouldn’t want to get any of my cum on any of these priceless books after all, hmm?”

  Chloe

  He bought me a book.

  Trying to keep all of Aaron's cum in my mouth as he pulls me to my feet is like trying to smuggle a mouthful of marshmallows out of the kitchen
when everyone else in the house knows you're supposed to be on a diet. Not only is it a huge load, but it's making me salivate. I have to swallow it all before I get it on the floor or worse, on one of these rare books that are currently playing audience to our little library affair.

  Men buy me things. It's not anything all that exciting or new. I've dated a lot of guys who think that's how you show your love. Or, maybe, they just think that's how to get a girl into bed with them. Cartier bracelets, designer handbags and sunglasses worth more than a month's rent—at this point, I've pretty much seen it all.

  Sometimes, it even works. It's flattering, being bought shit. I'm not going to pretend like it's not.

  But, no one has ever bought me a book before. It makes me realize, holy shit, I think Aaron might be the first guy I've ever been with who has actually paid attention to my interests and hobbies.

  Maybe, on another occasion, that would be kinda sad. But as I swallow up Aaron's cum, I think it just makes it go down that much sweeter.

  It's a really good present. A really fucking good gift.

  But, an even better gift is when Aaron kisses me, pushing me up against the bookshelf behind me. The edges of the shelves press into the back of my neck, my shoulder blades and the small of my back as our lips meet. The remnants of his cum is still coating my tongue as his own tongue presses hungrily into my mouth.

  Aaron has one hand curled around my throat and the other stroking my hip promisingly. I moan against his lips as his fingers toy with the edge of my skirt, then, snake beneath it to play with the lace edges of my panties.

  "You're such a hot fucking nerd, Chloe," Aaron laughs. His voice is just a harsh whisper, his breath hot on my cheek.

  Aaron might be whispering but the way that his fingers are stroking my pussy with just the thin fabric of my panties separating us, I'm pretty sure I'm about to be making noises that are way too loud for a library.

  "We should be quiet," I giggle.

  "Be quiet, then."

  He says it like it's going to be easy. Then, he forces my panties aside and slips his fingers between my soft, wet pussy lips.

  I want it. I really fucking want it. But, now that it's my ass that's about to be pleasured among these beautiful hardcovers and priceless literary treasures, I'm suddenly a little nervous.