The Prince’s Virgin

by Charlize Starr

  I hung up when I was done and decided I had to know. I had to know if Ella was Christa. I called Peter, the most reliable member of my security team, and ordered him to find out.

  My coffee was hot and waiting when I got back to the meeting, but I was still only thinking about Ella.

  Chapter Seven - Ella

  I couldn’t believe I was back at the castle again, this time in a dress I’d borrowed from Gretchen. A dress I was wearing just for Prince Tristan, a dress with nothing underneath. I felt daring in it, bold, sexy. Like someone a prince could be interested it. I didn’t know if it was true, if I was those things, but listening to Tristan’s message several times had given me the best kind of nerves, the excited ones.

  I wasn’t sure what I was signing on for, what I was up for. If Tristan wanted to have sex with me tonight, was I ready for that? Was I prepared to have sex with this man I didn’t even know? Would he even want to have sex with me knowing I was a virgin, inexperienced and unconfident? Would I know what to do? Did I even want to? What about Frederick?

  I shook all these questions out of my mind and decided to see where the night took me. I was probably ahead of myself. Prince Tristan would probably find me boring after spending more time with me, would probably not even want me. I took a breath and followed a servant to a small room.

  “Hello, miss,” a tall woman in a lab coat said when I walked in. The servant walked back out and the woman in the lab coat motioned me to a table.

  “What’s going on?” I said although I had a sinking feeling I knew. In Ladorian law, there was a marriage stipulation, an old one that, much like the festival, no one had never thought to change. It stated that only a virgin could marry royalty. I thought, irrationally, of so many nights with my face in my own pillows, desperately pushing my own fingers inside myself, making myself come in the quiet of my bedroom. I wondered if this doctor would be able to tell. I knew that was ridiculous.

  “I’m Dr. Teler, and this is a simple and quick test,” the doctor said, pulling out a rod shaped object. “I know this is invasive, but by law, I have to check if you’re a virgin.”

  “Okay,” I said, nodding and wanting to get it over with quickly. I spread my legs open wide, embarrassed to not be wearing underwear.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  I nodded again and winced as I felt the object slide into me. It was cold, but smooth and small. I gulped at the sensation. Dr. Teler left it still for a few seconds, and then pulled it back out slowly, and smiled at me.

  “Looks like I don’t even have to lie on the form,” she said, putting the probe into a plastic bag and removing her glove.

  “Oh, that’s it?” I said, flushing, not sure if I was glad or mortified the test had known.

  “That’s it,” she said, “go on up now, he’s expecting you.”

  She started filling out paperwork, and I got up, pulling my dress back down and trying to calm the flush I knew was on my cheeks. A servant was waiting for me outside the door, and I followed him up the stairs and into a beautiful room.

  There was a bed and a small table in the middle, with candles and food and Prince Tristan himself, who was smiling broadly at me.

  “Ready for dinner?” he asked, getting up to pull out a chair for me.

  “Yes,” I said, nodding. His eyes traced my body contours again, lingering even longer than they had the day before. I shuddered and bit my lip.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, sitting back down across from me. The servant excused himself, leaving us alone.

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling color on my cheeks again.

  “Let’s have a toast, to this trial,” Tristan said, raising his glass. I lifted mine too and clinked my glass with his. His gaze made me feel studied and exposed. It made me feel alive.

  “To the trial,” I said, bringing the glass back to my mouth and taking a long sip of the sweet wine inside.

  “I want to know all about you,” he said, after a long gulp of his own wine.

  “About me?” I said. The meat in front of me looked tender, and the sauce smelled delicious. I cut it into small bites, trying to be bold and clever, to make the most of this. “I don’t know how much there is to tell.”

  “I doubt that,” he said, “right now all I know is that you’re incredibly sexy. Tell me more.”

  “I study law,” I said, and he grinned, beginning to eat his food.

  “Smart and beautiful, what else?” he said.

  “I live at home, with my mother and younger brother,” I said. “When I was young, I thought I’d be out on my own by now. I wanted to see the world. But I’ve hardly seen much of Ladoria. They needed me at home, so I stayed,” I said, not sure why I was telling him so much.

  “Me too,” Tristan said, a wry smile on his stunning features. “I haven’t seen much outside the walls of this castle. Unless I’m sneaking into the village, I never get out.”

  “Really? I would have thought--” I stopped and bit my lip. “I would have thought you would have traveled, or gone to school in another kingdom, at least.”

  “Private tutors right here,” Tristan said, shaking his head.

  “Why?” I asked, honestly curious. I always thought of royalty as well-traveled, seeing distant lands to make peace agreements and blend cultures.

  “Security. I’ve been next in line for the throne since the day I was born, and,” Tristan said, stopping to whisper the next bit, leaning close, “years back, there was an heir to the throne who was kidnapped as a baby. The queen did not have any other boys, and Ladoria was nearly ruined.”

  “Was the baby ever found?” I asked, wondering why I had never heard this story in school. I had studied the history of Ladoria fairly extensively, so this seemed like something I should have come across.

  “The body was,” Tristan said, frowning.

  “Oh,” I said, wincing.

  “That was how my mother came to inherit the crown. That baby was her brother,” Tristan said. “It has led to a lot of fears. My parents see enemies everywhere. So I was hidden away for most of my life.”

  “I had no idea,” I said. He must have been so lonely, being so isolated. I wanted to reach for his hand, but it felt too familiar, too informal, so I took another long gulp of wine instead.

  “No one does,” Tristan said, shrugging. The gesture was casual but his eyes were still intense, boring into me.

  “So you’ve never left?” I asked. He shook his head slowly.

  “Never,” he said, “what about you?”

  “No,” I said, smiling a little, “when I was young I used to race. I was really good at it, I was really fast, and I loved it, and I thought maybe one day I’d be a professional and travel the world to compete.”

  “Do you still run?” Tristan asked.

  “I haven’t in years,” I said. There had been a time when I had thought that if I ran fast enough, I could change my whole life. Now, I was sitting in a palace, across from a prince, a drastic change to my life, but one I had not even asked for.

  “You’re not running now. Do you ever want to run away?” Tristan asked. He said it low and loaded like he was talking about more than races. Like he was talking about this, the trial, him, and maybe the things the evening could lead to.

  “I think I’m done running,” I said, holding his eyes.

  “Good,” he said, a small smile on his lips. I wondered if it was true, if I really was done running, if I was really prepared for everything this conversation might lead to. Looking across the table at him, I thought I was.

  We talked more as we ate, Tristan’s eyes still on me, watching me. I told him about my studies, my professors, my mother, and Gretchen. He told me about a favorite tutor of his and what bars he liked to sneak to in the village. The more we talked, the more comfortable I felt with him, with letting my eyes linger on him, on his handsome face, his muscled arms, and his broad shoulders.

  After dinner, plates were cleared by servants who moved in a flurry. The whole ti
me I felt Tristan’s eyes on me, more intense than ever. Once we were alone, he stepped toward me.

  “Ella,” he said, “is this the dress you’re wearing for me?”

  “Yes,” I said, flushing. He stepped even closer, so close we were almost touching. “I thought about this, about you,” I admitted.

  “It’s perfect,” he said, “but I think you’ve had it on long enough.”

  “Oh,” I said, in a single breath, feeling like there was air caught in my throat. I stepped toward him and nodded. There were a million reasons not to do this, but under his gaze, I couldn’t remember any of them. I was already turned on, and I wanted him to touch me, wanted him to do anything he wanted.

  “You don’t have to do anything. There is no one here but us,” Tristan said, putting a hand on my shoulder and playing with the strap of my dress, “but if you want to--”

  “Yes,” I said, feeling bold, letting myself be bold. Tristan smiled, and then took the straps of my dress, pulled them down, tugging my dress to the floor.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, running his hands down my arms before sliding a hand up my ribs, to my breasts. “And tonight, you are going to live your fantasies. Tonight, I am going to make sure you never forget me.”

  He put a hand on the small of my back, pulling me toward him and kissing me hard.

  Forgetting him was the last thing I was ever going to be able to do.

  Chapter Eight - Tristan

  She was the sexiest thing I had ever seen, standing there, naked in front of me, eyes wide and skin flushed. It was almost more than I could take. I wanted her more than ever, wanted to take her, wanted to make her mine. I kissed her, crushing her pretty mouth against mine, feeling her soft lips sigh and open against my mouth. I tugged on her as we kissed, pulling her toward my bed, feeling hungry for her.

  Her hands were on my chest, and they were shaking. I grabbed them as we sat on the bed, encircling her wrist with my hands. I kissed her again, pulling her closer and closer and leaning her back on the bed, feeling her shudder beneath me. I had to touch her, had to have more of her. I traced my hand down her arms, to her stomach, and up to her chest, cupping a hand around her breast. I flicked a thumb over her nipple and she gasped and nodded her head rapidly.

  “Yes,” she said. Her hips were moving under mine like she was already turned on and ready for me. I slid a leg between hers, putting my knee up against her, making her gasp again and grind against me. I could feel how wet she was through the leg of my pants and moaned. I was rock hard, and I wanted to touch her, to feel her wetness for myself, but I waited. I turned my attention back to her breasts, taking one in each hand and squeezing as she bucked her hips up against my leg, panting.

  “Slow down, we’re just getting started,” I said, twisting a nipple between two fingers and getting another gasp in return.

  “I’ve never done this,” she said, looking embarrassed even as she was grinding against my leg. I shook my head and licked her neck before answering.

  “I know,” I said. I didn’t want to embarrass her, but Dr. Teler had sent me a message, letting me know Ella was a virgin. It gave me more hope that Ella and Christa were the same, and it made me want this to be better for her, made me want to take my time and make her feel incredible.

  “You do?” she asked, flushing. I kissed her again, running my tongue over her lips and into her mouth.

  “Do you want me to make you come? Is that what you thought about when you were getting dressed?” I asked.

  “Yes, I want--” Ella stopped, looking at me with those same big eyes that had made me want her in the first place. “I want you to do anything, everything, that you want.”

  “We only have two days,” I said. She flushed again, and I pulled my knee back from between her leg, making her moan.

  I spread her legs apart with my hands and ran them up her thighs, teasing.

  “Please,” she begged, “Tristan.”

  I dipped my fingers into her, feeling how dripping wet she was. She cried out, twisting her hips up toward my hand. I teased her clit lightly with my fingers as I licked my way down her neck, her stomach, and her hips.

  “Keep saying my name,” I said as I moved my fingers away and moved my head between her legs to taste her. I licked around her, making firm circles and swipes with my tongue, loving the way it made her moan and gasp, loving the way my name kept falling from her lips.

  I used my hands to spread her legs wide, and licked her, teasing my fingers at her entrance but holding off, wanting her to come with just my tongue on her the first time. I licked her slowly, and then faster, adding pressure as I went.

  “Oh god, Tristan, that’s amazing,” she breathed, and I licked her clit faster in response. I felt addicted to her, like I could do this for hours, could keep her begging and writhing for hours. I wanted to feel her come around my fingers, and around my cock. I felt her tremble under me, her thighs start to shake as I licked her. I knew she was close, so I held her legs steady and licked harder and faster, in firm circles.

  “Oh, oh, I--” she said, and then she cried out again, almost a scream, coming hard and shuddering. I licked her through it, holding her still as she squirmed.

  I pulled my head back, kissing and sucking on her thighs, hearing her gasps above my head.

  “Shit,” she breathed, making my grin against her thighs.

  “Did you like that?” I asked, pulling back and pulling off my shirt, “coming for me like that?”

  “Yes,” she said, eyes on my chest, my stomach, trailing toward my pants. She leaned up, looking at me with questioning eyes as she reached shaking hands to the button on my pants. I nodded.

  “You taste incredible,” I said, licking her wetness off my lips and holding her gaze before leaning down to kiss her so she could taste too, she could know how good she tasted on my lips.

  “Tristan,” she said softly, almost a moan, pulling back from my kiss and tugging my pants over my hips. She trailed a hand over my stomach, and placed it on my cock, palming me through my underwear, gasping again at how rock hard I was. I bit my lip and told myself to go slow, to not rush her.

  “What else do you want?” I asked, licking my lips again. I wanted to lick her again, taste her over and over until she was spent.

  “I want to see you, see your…, feel it,” she said, dipping her fingers again. I rocked my cock up into her hand, letting a moan of my own leave my lips.

  “My what?” I asked, swallowing, wanting to see the word on her lips, wanting her to say it.

  “Your cock,” she said, “you’re so hard, god.”

  “For you,” I said, nodding again, and letting her strip me naked. She gasped again, taking me in as I sprung forward, erect and solid. She swallowed, hard. I didn’t know if she had ever seen a naked man, and I knew even if she had, I was likely much more well-endowed, much bigger. Other woman had told me, in moans, that I was the biggest they’d ever had.

  Ella’s eyes were wide, staring at me, so I took one of her hands and guided it around me, so she could stroke my cock. Her hand felt so good on me, so amazing I groaned again even before she started moving her hand. She started up a rhythm right away, stroking me faster, her still shaking hands working over me. I rocked up into her, fucking her hand as she stroked me, eyes staring at her own hand, biting her lip again.

  I reached out a hand and ran my thumb over her lips, then slid three fingers into her mouth, in and out, slowly, getting them soaked. Watching her mouth take my fingers, how eager she looked for them, breathing around them as she stroked me was a gorgeous site, one I was sure would burn into my mind. I thrust my fingers in and out of her mouth a few times and then trailed my soaking wet fingers back down her body to touch her clit.

  She cried out, still sensitive, and gasped.

  “Tristan,” she said, nodding her head rapidly and shutting her eyes. I worked her with fast circles as she stroked my cock, feeling how close I was getting, how fucking turned on I was just
from her hands and from watching her. I moved my fingers down her soaking folds to slide one inside her, loving the sound she made when I did.

  “Yes, please, yes,” she said, grinding down on my finger. I slid a second finger into her and began to thrust them in and out of her, fast and hard, making her cry out over and over.

  “That feels so good,” she said, still grinding herself down my fingers like she wanted more, gasping and twisting as my fingers slid in and out of her. Her hand on my cock picked up its tempo, stroking me even faster like she was trying to keep up with the pace of my fingers inside her.

  “You’re so wet, so tight around my fingers,” I said. She felt so good, clenching around my fingers, right and so close to coming to again for me.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  “Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to fill you up with my cock?” I asked. I was so close to coming I knew I would spill over her hand at any moment.

  “Yes, please, please fuck me,” she said. She was begging me, writhing for me, and I wanted to. I wanted to be the first man to fuck her, to be inside her, to claim her. I wanted her to want me to be the first. I pulled my fingers out of her, making her whimper, and started rubbing fast circles on her clit again.

  “I intend to,” I said, “next time. I promise.”

  She gasped as I came, spurting all over her hand as I did, exploding. Her hand felt so good, felt so amazing on me that the thought of what the rest of her would feel like on and around me was maddeningly hot. I continued rubbing circles on her soaking wet clit as I came down, and she came again around my hand a minute later, calling out my name again. I slid my fingers back inside her as she came, resting them against her walls to feel them shake and clench as she came around me.

  I put my fingers in her mouth again after she was finished, wanting her to taste herself again. She sucked them eagerly, making me half hard again at the site. I didn’t want her to have all her firsts in a single night, so I backed away, just a little, pulling my hand out of her mouth and kissing her again, slower and softer now.