by Pippa Grant
I position him at my entrance and slowly slide down his cock, my walls stretching around his thick length, and we both moan. He’s so right here, buried deep in my pussy, filling me, joining me, completing me. I lift my hips and slide down him again, and he suddenly freezes.
“Protection.”
“I’m on birth control.”
“Thank the gods,” he murmurs, and he thrusts up deep into me. “You feel so bloody perfect.”
Hot prickles stab the back of my eyelids, because no one ever mistakes me for perfect.
Especially Viktor.
I squeeze my eyes shut until the moment passes and let myself enjoy riding his solid cock, the way his grunts and moans of appreciation make my pussy tighten around him, my already swollen and sated flesh on the verge of hypersensitivity as that familiar pleasure winds and builds again.
I’ve never been motivated by sex.
Not when I’m plenty competent at getting myself off.
But I can’t imagine giving up this intimacy with Viktor.
His fingers caress the back of my neck, and I blink at him. He holds my gaze with those fathomless dark eyes, searching and seeking and reassuring while he thrusts up into me, reaching so deep I think he’s touching parts of me that have been missing for decades.
That have been hiding for decades.
Wounded. Left for dead.
And with every stroke, he’s drawing me back out.
My belief in innocence. In a level playing field. In me.
And driving harder and higher and deeper, spiraling me out of control, holding me captive with his gaze, with his steadiness, with his everything.
I could love this man.
I could.
But I don’t know if I know how.
My climax breaks over me, taking me by surprise and sending me straining taller, pressing my clit to his pelvis while my orgasm rocks through me. His neck strains back, and he barks my name as his cock pulses inside me, the two of us crashing together, my pussy squeezing and clenching around him, holding him tight, welcoming him.
Wanting him.
Even when I collapse fully exhausted on his chest, his strong arms wrapped loosely about me, I still want more.
More of everything.
Because nothing this good ever lasts.
Ever.
So I need to enjoy the hell out of it as long as I can.
35
Viktor
The weeks leading up to the formal wedding pass quickly, and soon Meemaw has returned and we’re preparing to host Joey, Zeus, Gracie, and Prince Manning. And Sophie, of course. For my guests, I’ve invited the entire royal family of Stölland. The queen and the king’s middle son will be joining us. ‘Tis an honor to have my former employers in attendance, and I don’t take it lightly.
My mum is quite beside herself, as I daresay she finds the Stöllandic royalty more exciting than her own family.
As one would.
Peach has vacillated between hot and cold, and she’s become quite predictable.
If we’ve had too many pleasant days in a row, with little fuss or issue, she pulls back. It’s as though she’s incapable of letting herself be happy, and I’m quite unsure how to deal with it.
But I’m presented with an unexpected opportunity for guidance with an equally unexpected phone call eight days before the formal wedding is to take place at the end of November.
I’m about to turn into a meeting with Alexander and the Prime Minister when Joey Diamonte’s face appears on my phone screen. I inform Leonie to have Alexander and the Prime Minister begin without me, and I excuse myself to my private office.
“Good morning, Mrs. Berger,” I answer, as it’s quite early back in the States, and also because it’s quite safe to call Joey Mrs. Berger from this many thousands of miles away. “How may I be of assistance?”
“Don’t be a smart-ass,” she growls. “I’m only calling you because I know Peach won’t do what I’m about to tell you to do, so you can thank me and then I’ll tell you how I’m going to make your life a lot easier.”
“Thank you,” I say promptly, because Joey is not one to make phone calls for idle chitchat.
I quite appreciate that about her.
“Judge Masterson has been removed from the bench. Have the palace make contact with his replacement, mention your displeasure with the whole marriage bullshit and that your embassy is looking into it, and you’ll have signed adoption papers for Papaya before the wedding.”
I blink at the snowflakes swirling about outside my window, which overlooks the now-dormant gardens that Peach cleaned up quite nicely before the first frost set in. “That…seems rather easy.”
“Like I said, leave Peach out of it. And if I were you, I’d make sure those papers only have Peach’s name on them.”
“Why—”
“Was the judge removed? Don’t ask. Just trust me. And you’re welcome. Fuck this up, and you’ll be walking with a limp at your own wedding.”
She’s gotten the upper hand on me exactly once, and I expect she shan’t ever let me forget it. “One more question, my lady.”
“You’re just as annoying as Manning. Quit with the my lady shit.”
I close my eyes and wince. “Yo, J-meister the Flying Acester?” I try.
“Better.” There’s a choking noise, as though she’s trying not to laugh. “What do you want to know?”
“Why does Peach insist on refusing to allow herself to be happy?”
There’s deafening silence on the other end. It stretches on so long, I’m afraid she’s considering hanging up.
But I’ve known Joey Diamonte-Berger long enough to know when to play the silence game back at her.
“You’re not an idiot, I’ll give you that much,” she finally mutters.
“Thank you, J-Diddy.”
She snorts. “Does Peach know you can actually be funny?”
“I believe she’s aware, though she delights in denying it.”
“It’s disturbing how well you know her.”
“And yet I still turn to her best friend for advice.”
She heaves an audible sigh. “How’s the king stuff going?”
“Depends on the day,” I answer slowly, feeling positive she’s going somewhere with this.
“Anyone tell you that you shouldn’t be king?”
“Not often.”
“You ever wonder if someone else would’ve made a better king?”
I think of Alexander, because without him, I should be quite lost. “Quite regularly.”
“Ever have anyone else tell you someone else should be king?”
“No, my—your bad-arse-ness.”
She snorts. “I could almost see myself liking you, Viktor.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“You know Weightless is the third company Peach founded?”
“I was aware it was not her first.”
“All government contract companies. The first, she got screwed and almost lost the shirt off her back because a dickhead kept underbidding her. He had family money and was propping up the business with outside cash so he could sell the whole company based on reputation instead of actual profit.”
I force my jaw to unclench. “I’m aware she dislikes uneven playing fields.”
“She gets screwed, Viktor. Every. Fucking. Time. And now she’s sitting in Europe, being a person who inherently gets to get ahead, watching all her tasks at Weightless being taken over by people who don’t understand how fucking hard she worked to make the company a reality. All because her family and a fucking asshole of a judge let her down. So yeah, she has trust issues. She’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because it always has.”
I stare out the window while I ponder the injustices of the world. The snow is swirling thicker now, which will undoubtedly cause Papaya some indigestion. The girl had her first school dance last week—chaperoned by Eva when Peach’s presence was requested at a gala honoring the oldest female phy
sics professor in Amoria—and she’s to have a sleepover with several girls from school this weekend.
If they’re able to reach the palace through the snow.
“I shall have the palace contact the new judge immediately,” I tell Joey.
Legal issues, I can solve.
Matters of the heart, and injustices of the world, I fear I cannot.
Though I shall try my damnedest anyway.
‘Tis what I do.
36
Peach
“Oh my god, you’re here.”
I launch myself at Joey before she’s even made it into the palace. We’re in the portico where Papaya and Meemaw and I first arrived with Viktor, but this time, the staff are all familiar, and Fred’s only with us because Papaya couldn’t wait to show him to Gracie.
“Nice stone,” Zeus says behind her. “Joey, we should buy a castle too.”
“We are not—”
“Aw, c’mon, babe. Gracie and Peach have castles. We could get a moat. And when we have kids, they’d have to do moat races. And pull up the drawbridge before they get to go to bed at night. And we could have jousting in the field, and—”
Manning shoves him, which is like shoving a small castle, because Zeus doesn’t move. “Castles are worthless without secret passages,” Manning announces.
“Aw, fuck, yeah.”
Gracie shoves him from the other side. “Watch your mouth around the baby.”
Sophie’s sleeping in her baby carrier, and I take one look at her and almost burst into tears. “She’s so big.”
She’s bundled up and wrapped six ways to Sunday, but her cheeks are chubby and her hair is getting so thick and long and I swear her head’s twice as big as it was.
“You should see her thighs,” Gracie says proudly.
“Rolls and rolls of baby fat,” Manning agrees, equally proudly.
I lead them into the castle, which has gotten a superficial cleaning and still doesn’t sparkle, but doesn’t seem so run-down either.
“Wow, this is…”
“Charming and full of personality,” I finish for Gracie.
Joey snorts. “Lead me to a heart toilet. I need to—”
“Gah, keep it to yourself,” Gracie interrupts.
We get them settled—there are guest rooms in a separate wing of the castle, closer to the ballroom and the formal dining room—and I pull them all into the private apartment and introduce them to Viktor’s family.
He’s off doing king things, because that’s all he ever does.
King things.
Until family time every evening, when he pulls off his tie and joins us for dinner and challenges Papaya to mancala or chess or one of the numerous other board games Alexander and Samuel keep slipping into the family room.
And that’s before he takes me to bed.
While Viktor’s mum and Samuel fuss over Sophie, Manning, and Zeus disappear with Papaya.
Probably debating if they could actually swing from the heart chandelier in the atrium.
“How bad’s the dress?” Joey asks me as we settle across the room at a game table by one of the windows overlooking the courtyard.
“It’s bad,” I whisper. “There’s so much white lace you’d think I was the second coming of the Virgin Mary.”
“I make that mistake with you all the time.”
We both dissolve in a fit of snort-laughs.
“I miss you,” I tell her when we’re done.
“I fucking miss you too,” she replies, “but you’re doing serious good shit here.”
I roll my eyes. Not because she’s wrong, but because I’m afraid to admit how much it feels good knowing that I’m making a difference. The two major banks have already started special programs to help small business owners, I talked Viktor into using some royal family money to establish a scholarship fund for low-income students, and after hearing a heartbreaking story at a formal dinner from a woman who lost her son, I had my secretary help me put together a commission to study mental health facilities in Amoria. It’s already proceeding with a plan to get virtual resources to remote villages. I don’t know if the internet makes us more stressed and is adding to the anxiety in the world, or if it just helps make us more aware of it, but I know that a healthier, happier nation improves everything for all of us.
“I’m just keeping busy since you keep taking my jobs away,” I tell Joey.
“You’re doing something bigger than Weightless.”
“It’s been a good opportunity to spread my wings,” I acknowledge. “So when I come back—”
She cuts me off with a dark look.
“Okay, yes, Papaya’s doing really well,” I whisper. For the most part. She’s still having problems here and there, and the language barrier is still frustrating her, but seeing a new part of the world and having consistency has been good for her. “But I’m still coming back.”
“What about Viktor?” she asks.
My pulse surges into panic mode. “He’s been meeting with the Prime Minister to work out a new succession plan because this whole marriage thing is ridiculously outdated. So—”
“I meant you and Viktor, not the kingdom and Viktor.”
“I—” I don’t know. I don’t know. I know he’s patient and steady and ridiculously perfect. He confessed last week that he used to dabble in writing, and had a mystery novel almost finished, but hadn’t had time to look at it or even think about it, and he was so crazy adorable with the way the tips of his ears went red while he was telling me.
But he’ll always be king first.
Just like he was always Manning’s bodyguard first.
Joey squeezes my shoulder. “It’s a leap worth taking,” she tells me. “And I wouldn’t be here if I thought he was bad for you.”
“He’s a good man.” Damn tears are threatening to swell up again. “But why would he want to saddle himself with me for the rest of his life?”
“Don’t diminish yourself to make excuses for being afraid to fall in love,” Joey growls.
“I—” I start.
She cuts me off with a poke to the shoulder. “Just don’t.”
I don’t argue.
Mostly because I know it’s pointless. She’ll outstubborn me almost every time.
But also because maybe, just maybe, I’m starting to believe Viktor could be man enough to love me despite me.
And I still don’t know what that means for my future, except that it would mean never working with Joey again.
37
Viktor
While I’m aware I should be greeting wedding guests, instead I’m gaping at my brother in my office. “Are you quite certain?” I finally ask.
“It’s the translation,” he insists. “Language nuances lost in English that are clearly there in both the German and the Italian.” He pushes the thick, ancient tomes across my desk. “Put Leonie’s feet to the fire, and she would say the same. As would the Prime Minister.”
“The Love Laureate—” I start.
Alexander shakes his head. “She wouldn’t doubt you. And even if she would, you’ve every right to sack her. She was Roland’s pet, not yours. I should have read the original laws myself in the first place.”
We’re interrupted by a knock at the door, and it swings open instantly. “Sir, you cannot—” Leonie says, but the rest of her statement is drowned in Zeus Berger and Manning Frey attempting to shove each other out of the way to get through the doorway first.
They’re both grinning like loons. “Your Majesty, delightful to see you,” Prince Manning says while he takes an elbow to Zeus’s gut.
“Get out of my way, you little fucker,” Zeus tells him.
Zeus is one of few men in the world who would dare call Manning a little fucker. The prince can hold his own and is rarely mistaken for small.
“I see being teammates is going well for you,” I say to the both of them.
“’Twould be, if this ogre were more like his bro—oof,” the prince reports.
>
Alexander shifts a glance between me and the two hockey players. “You lived with this for your year in the States?”
“Every day,” I confirm.
“No wonder the staff issues haven’t fazed you a bit.”
Manning pulls back from the fight, and Zeus nearly topples into the room. It’s a youngest-child trick, I’m certain, as I’ve seen him do the same thing to his brothers. He then steps around Zeus and pulls a thick packet from inside his jacket. “From the Casper County Courthouse, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you.” I’d inquire how his hockey season was going, but I’ve been keeping track of the scores these past months, and I know the Thrusters are on track to repeat their Cup-winning performance, especially as they managed to convince Zeus to delay retirement by a year to join the team. I’m quite sad to be missing their antics, truth be told.
I introduce Zeus to Alexander, who’s not the least daunted by the giant of a man, as he’s aware of Zeus’s terror of spiders and also that Zeus Berger is more teddy bear than grizzly. Off the ice, at any rate.
“Settling in well?” Manning inquires.
“As well as one can.”
“Ready for your big day?”
“Certainly.”
“He’s become quite adept at all this pomp and circumstance,” Alexander reports.
“’Tis merely another day,” I agree. “I’m already quite married.”
“But, dude, we get to see Peach in a dress. That’s gonna be fucking hilarious.” Zeus grins. “I hope it has bows.”
I merely hope she shows up.
Because I have a feeling that when I inform her of the changes in our situations—both in the paperwork Manning has brought and the news Alexander has uncovered—I may well lose her forever.
38