by Brill Harper
My man is coming for me.
He’s part warrior, part protector, and all glorious, sensual man.
He stops on a stair so that we are eye level for once. “You’re really here.” His eyes soften. “You look beautiful. I thought I was hallucinating when I heard him announce your name.” His hand cups the back of my neck, and I see the intent in his eyes. I’ve seen it several times over the last few days.
“Everyone is watching us, Prince Markellan.”
“Then let’s give them something to see.”
The moment his lips touch mine, I know I did the right thing by coming here. Even if it means being kissed by a prince in front of his entire kingdom. I drown in his spicy scent, melting into his kiss even as I hear the murmurs of the crowd.
He pulls back, and I see the reluctance to stop on his face. Placing my arm in his, he turns and addresses the crowd. “I am the consort of Miss Havisham,” he says, and the murmurs grow louder. “Do me a favor and make a good impression on her this evening everyone. My petition for marriage is not yet accepted. We are still in honeymoon.”
I know my face is as red as the carpet we walk on as we finish the stairs and join his family at a table. Everyone is staring at me. They probably never expected their prince to find an uncultured American to bring home. One who is so plain among all the luxury around her.
Tara hugs me. “Brilliant. You were brilliant.”
I pat my updo. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” I turn to Markellan. “Tara spent the day with me and a team of stylists. And Con taught me how to dance.”
He shoots Con a look with daggers.
Con barely looks ruffled. “She asked for my help, Your Majesty. You ordered me to comply with her wishes.”
His eyes are still narrowed, his chest still puffed up a bit, but he takes my hand tenderly. “Then let’s dance.”
The butterflies in my stomach are trying to get out of my skin before I puke up the last thing I ate, which was breakfast and a long time ago. I know I will trip, stumble, or step on his feet. Or all of the above. But he is waiting, one hand outstretched. He believes in me. I guess that will have to be enough for now. He won’t let me fall even if I stumble.
“You take my breath away, Violet,” he says as he pulls me in close.
This is nothing like dancing with my guard. Con kept a good foot of distance between us at all times. Markellan is grinding into me, making sure I can feel his erection despite how inappropriate he is being.
“This is the most done up I’ve ever been. I’m even wearing lipstick.”
“I look forward to seeing that lipstick stain my cock, lamb,” he whispers in my ear and suddenly I am moist and boneless. “This is your first ball, but I wonder how soon I can talk you into escaping. Or maybe ducking into a dark corner. I have a sudden need to know what you are wearing under that dress.”
“We can’t leave just yet.”
“Why?” He groans into my neck. “I promise I will make it worth your while. Several times.” Then he pulls back so I can see his face, and it’s so serious given the way he’s been carrying on. “I don’t know if I can ever explain what it was like to hear your name, to see you like some kind of dream descending those stairs. Coming to me. My heart stopped in my chest, Violet. I’ve never seen anything so lovely as you facing your fears to be with me.”
“There is something else I must do,” I say. “Reach into your inside pocket.”
His brow furrows, but he does as I ask and pulls out a satin ribbon I gave to Con earlier to sneak into his pocket. He blinks at the ribbon and swallows hard. “You have two days left,” he reminds me, his voice filled with emotion. “You don’t have to publicly bind yourself to me today.”
“I don’t need two days.” I hold my hand up, and he grasps it in his. “Begin.”
His breathing is shallow, and he looks so earnestly nervous that I feel better. He swallows hard but doesn’t ask again if I’m sure. I told him I was and that is enough for him. He uses his other hand to wind the ritual satin around our wrists. “In the quiet space of your heart, do I live?” he asks, reciting the vows I just learned today while my hair was being burned into curls.
“There and the in-between,” I answer. “May I be found in your love.”
We both stare at our wrists, bound together, our hands clasped. “May it be ever thus,” he says lowly, the gravel in his voice scrapes on the raw places of my heart.
Oh, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.
“May it be ever thus,” I repeat, my knees nearly buckling.
His gaze goes dark and heated and I can see what he is thinking about. The things he wants to do to my body. The things he’ll make me beg for as soon as we’re alone. But even as we have this wordless conversation on the dance floor, a circle around us widens as the other dancers realize what is happening. He leans down, slanting his mouth over mine, and kisses me sweetly, gently. As he moves his mouth to my ear he whispers, “I’m going to make you come on my tongue.”
I shiver, my mind going blank with lust for a moment.
And then there were pictures and hugging and dancing and eating and finally we arrive in the apartment, betrothed.
I did it. I’m really staying. I’m going to marry a prince.
He growls, a rumble of animal need, and pushes me into the wall. His body is rock hard against me, his hips grinding into the cradle of my thighs as he bunches my skirt up in his hands. “I need to be inside you.”
I don’t argue, just lock my arms around his neck and seal my mouth tightly to his. Then his hands move mine to my dress. “Hold this,” he demands and drops to his knees, roughly moving my panties out of the way of his velvet tongue. He slides in deep and I cry out. I have to concentrate to hold my dress up. “You taste so fucking good. You were made for me. I was made to eat you up.”
I come so fast it surprises us both, and he has to use his hand to hold my bottom so I don’t fall. He turns me to the wall, his fingers taking the place of his tongue inside me. I feel his big, hard body behind me, pushing me. We’re both still dressed, but hands roam over my body cupping, pinching and squeezing and his teeth bite and nip at my neck. He spreads my legs, and I feel the blunt head of his cock nudged against my pussy.
"Bend over." I bend and spread my legs wider, bracing myself against the wall. “Good girl.”
I know this will be hard and fast. He needs it. I need it. I’m aching for it, my pussy clenching on emptiness while it waits for him.
He enters my pussy in one deep thrust. I feel impaled. Invaded as my body is shoved into the wall. He grabs my hair and pulls my head back and thrusts harder into my pussy. I can barely breathe.
“I need you too much,” he says, his voice tight and harsh. “I didn’t know it would be like this. Not even when I knew I had to have you. I didn’t know. You make me feral, Violet.” His teeth nip at the sensitive skin where my neck meets my shoulder, and I feel like I might pass out. “You. Are. Mine.” He punctuates each word with a deep thrust, bottoming out inside me.
My senses are overwhelmed. He’s rough, growling and groaning. My knees go weak and I am on the verge of collapsing on the floor, yet he surges inside me with another primal grunt. His body stiffens behind me and I feel him spilling into me, so hot and so deep. His cock pulses in my channel and triggers me into an orgasm so raw and stark I scream silently as my body convulses around him.
He holds me tight and pulls me up and into his arms as we both gasp for breath and slide to the floor, still in our formal wear.
As my pulse thunders in my ears, he moves behind me, curling his big body around me, the reassuring weight of him surrounding me.
“Did I hurt you? I was…rough.”
“I like it when you’re rough. I like it when you’re slow and gentle. I like it when you’re everything.”
“Violet?”
“Hmmm?” I’m already drifting, floating on a soft cloud of bliss. “I love you.”
I stiffen, every muscle o
f my body tenses as if I’ve jumped into the coldest shower. My heart seizes, and my breath turns cold.
“Violet, what’s wrong?” He turns me over, and I start sobbing. “Violet?” The concern on his face makes it worse, and I convulse, my body wracked with emotion I don’t understand.
Markellan holds me through it and as the worst of it passes, he brings me to a sitting position and rocks me on the floor.
“I’m sorry. This is embarrassing,” I say.
“Tell me what’s wrong. Are you…you don’t want me to love you…I thought…”
I clutch his arms. “That’s not it, I swear. Of course I want you to love me. I swear. It’s just that…nobody has said that to me in twenty years. I didn’t know…I forgot what it feels like…You must think I’m crazy. I was just so young when they died. I know the nuns cared for me. And I’ve had friends. I just…I gave up thinking I would ever hear someone’s heart speaking to mine.”
He kisses the side of my head fiercely cupping the back of my neck firmly as he holds me to his chest. “I swear to you, there will never be another day in your life that you don’t hear those words. You’ll never question my feelings. I will always put you first. Always adore you. And when our children come, they will love you as much as I do.”
I melt into him, into his heat. “I love you too, Markellan.”
He pulls me across him and kisses me. I can still taste a trace of myself on his lips and it inflames my passion again.
I pull my mouth from his, dotting over the line of his jaw while I chant, “I love you,” over and over. Somehow, we make it to the bed and I tell him again, using my body in ways I didn’t know I could.
Epilogue
Markellan
Five Years Later
“Papa!”
Our son Jaxen runs across the room when I enter, and I scoop up the blond monster with one arm and give him what he calls ‘kissickles” because my new beard tickles him when I give him kisses. “Hello, son. How is my little lad?”
“Mommy said I was such a good boy today that she forgot who my daddy was.”
I laugh. “Oh really.”
My wife, my princess, my soul, crosses the room and just like always, when my eyes first see her, my heart skips a beat. She’s beautiful, but there are shadows under her eyes. I pull my arm out dramatically from behind my back like I’m offering her flowers, only it’s a bottle of ginger ale. “You look like you need this.”
She smiles so big it breaks my heart. “Bless you.” She takes the bottle from me and kisses me. “This is just what I need.”
“I’m going to pretend you mean my kiss and not the soda.”
“Your kiss is nice, too.”
Her face is a little too pale, so I cup her cheek tenderly. “Bad today?”
“It will pass.”
“Maybe Mommy needs some kissickles too. Mommy likes the kisses that tickle, doesn’t she?”
She blushes, even after all this time. But I don’t let it fool me. She’s the one who asked me to grow the beard.
Jaxen pulls us both to the couch talking about some game that makes him so happy with pixelated squares and a heavy merchandising budget. After his lengthy explanation, we sit him between us for a very important talk.
Violet takes the medallion out of her pocket and hands it to me. I kiss her hand as I take it.
“Son, we need to talk.”
“What is it, Papa?”
I hold up the medallion. “Do you know what this is?”
He nods. “It’s the coin Mommy carries everywhere.”
“That’s right. Daddy gave Mommy the coin when she was a little girl and she was scared. Do you know who gave Daddy the coin?”
“Grandpapa King in Heaven.”
“That’s right. He gave it to Daddy when I was about your age. Told me it was very important to him, but he wanted me to have it so I would always feel him with me. A few years later, he went to Heaven, but I always remembered him. And I gave it to Mommy so she would always remember me.”
She strokes his hair. “And now, we want you to have it. And keep it with you always. So you always know how much we love you.”
He takes it reverently. Like we just gave him Excalibur. Violet looks a little bit like I felt the day I gave it up. It still sucks to do the right thing sometimes. At least she won’t have to wait for twenty years to see it again.
“There’s something else, big boy,” she says to him. She takes his hand and puts it over her stomach. “You’re going to be a big brother.”
“Me?” he asks. ‘You have a baby in your tummy?”
We’ve explained to him the basics of babies before, as it the custom of Kentigen to bring children up knowing and understanding such things. Not more than he can handle, but enough that he knows babies are made with love and grow inside mommies until they come out.
We continue to talk to him about what it might be like to be a big brother. The perks and the big boy responsibilities and when we finally get him to sleep, my wife looks ready to pass out.
“Come,” I say, holding my hand out and then lead her into the bathroom where I draw her a bath, feed her crackers and ginger ale, and wash her back.
“When we get out of this tub, I will give you a nice, long massage.”
She looks over her shoulder at me. “That is the same line you told me twelve weeks ago that got me into this mess.”
I put my hand over her stomach possessively. “You didn’t complain about it that night.”
She covers my hand with hers. “I’m so happy right now. Even though I might throw up.”
Later, when the worst of her nausea has passed, I roll toward her on our bed, nestling into her, my arm around her hips, drawing her tight into the shelter of my body, spooning up against her back.
She sighs sweetly, and it stirs something deep inside me. My love fore her just gets deeper every day.
My cock, now rubbing against her ass grows harder, as always, and a drop of pre-cum seeps from the tip. I slowly push into her, sliding into Heaven. I’m in no hurry. Tonight I want to go slow. Cherish her. Softly, carefully, I arch my hips to drive forward until I am inside her as far as I can reach, my balls pressed against the wet entrance to her pussy. I stay there, in her tight, wet sheath, and feel her stretching around me.
“You’re amazing,” I tell her as my cock twitches involuntarily inside her.
I slide gently out, then back in again, the smell of our sex filling the room in a scent no rare flower of Kentigen can match for an aphrodisiac.
Again, I slide out and in, enjoying the exquisite friction between us, taking in the smell of her hair and the softness of her skin, feeling her hand brush against mine.
She turns her head to me so I lean forward and kiss her, our tongues entwining. She moans softly as I begin to thrust into her pussy again, my cock sliding in and out with long, insistent strokes, faster and faster.
Her hand grabs mine and pulls it to a breast, pushing my fingers over the surface and over her nipple, which hardens under our collective touch.
Thrusting my cock in deep strokes, I push one of her hands down onto her pussy and we both play with her clit together.
“That’s it, love. Touch yourself. I love it when you play with your pussy.”
I can feel the cum rising in my balls, threatening my climax already. I groan, not ready for it to end, yet unable to stop the increase of speed and depth of my thrusts, pressing our hands into her pussy. She tenses and holds her breath, a signal I’ve come to know. She’s right there.
“Yes, angel. Come all over my cock.” She squeezes her thighs hard together, and her hips make sharp little jerks in time with her quiet little cries, her tight pussy contracting hard around my cock, milking me.
I can’t hold back any longer. With a primal moan, come surges through my cock and deep inside of her, the heat spreading through and around us both, my hips banging in shaking spasms. She comes again, tightening around me, draining every last drop from me.
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We stay entwined, neither of us ready for me to pull out, until sleep takes us both. My dreams are never as good as my reality now. Not since we found each other again. But they are sweet anyway.