Royally Yours

by Amy Brent

  I laughed and shook my head at her. “Then stop wearing them.”

  “But they look so good,” she whined.

  “You look good in or out of heels,” I said. “And torture isn’t high heels. Torture is being around you when you look so damn fine and not being able to touch you how I want to.”

  Allie shot me a devious look and put her foot back down. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, it is,” I said, looking to rekindle the beginnings of the romp we almost had in the limo on the way to the party.

  I needed the distraction. Although I was feeling good about how Allie and Andrew interacted at the party, my mind was still whispering about being betrayed. Getting Allie’s skirt up and playing with her sweet little pussy would be enough to put those thoughts to bed. If not permanently, at least for the rest of the night.

  “How do you want to touch me?” Allie asked.

  I looked her over from head to toe. “Can I show you?”

  “Please,” she whispered.

  Her soft voice was an invitation. I inched closer to her on the seat. She remained where she was. I rested one hand on her knee and then began inching it slowly upward, under the hem of her dress, and higher until my fingertips grazed those black lace panties that had made my mind spin when I saw them earlier. I pushed them aside the way she had on the drive over.

  She was so wet.

  “Have you been thinking about this all night?” I whispered in her ear.

  She nodded and swallowed.

  I chuckled and nibbled her earlobe. I kissed her neck and her jaw while running my fingers up and down the length of her slit. She was tense beneath my touch. She had been waiting for this for hours. So had I.

  I didn’t want to wait any longer. Her soft folds beneath my fingertips were too tempting. I pushed two fingers into her. She was swollen and ready, and she was tight around me. I fingered her hard, my knuckles hitting the insides of her thighs.

  She rested her head back on the seat and moaned softly. I covered her mouth with my other hand. The driver didn’t need to hear her. Those sounds were reserved for me and me only. I fingered her harder until her hips were lifting off the seat. It was as if she was encouraging me to somehow get deeper into her tight little pussy.

  I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried. So I switched tactics and curled my fingers inside her, rubbing the patch I knew was her G-spot. Her muffled cry beneath my palm promised that an orgasm wasn’t far away.

  She bucked beneath me, jerking away from my fingers as she came. I followed her retreat, keeping my fingertips pressed up against her sweet spot and letting her writhe in my grasp. Her moan became a higher pitched wail. I stuck a finger between her lips and teeth and pressed down on her tongue. She fell silent and sucked my thumb, her eyes falling closed as I worked her over harder. I wanted her to come again. It wound me up when I felt the tightness around my fingers. I wanted to spill her juices on the seat.

  I moved my fingers harder, pulling them in and out but aiming for that same spot. Allie twisted, and her teeth bit down on the base of my thumb. I didn’t care. I fucked her harder. She grabbed my shirt.

  And then I felt it. Her pussy gripped me fiercely as it prepared to release. Right when I knew she was ready I pulled my fingers out of her and rubbed her clit vigorously. She squirted her juices on the seat and the floor.

  When she was done, I tapped her clit lightly. She flinched away from me, incredibly sensitive, and I began working to undo my belt. I yanked my pants half-way down until they were around my knees and slid off the seat. I knelt before her. My cock was at the perfect height with her pussy.

  I pushed her legs apart. She was breathing heavily. She seemed surprised by how aggressive I had been. Surprised, but pleased. Her eyes were hungry as she watched me angle my cock down. I pressed it up against her, rubbing it up and down on her clit. She was so plump and pink. She inched herself closer to me. She wanted me. I could feel her desperation. She wanted me to fuck her.

  I leaned into her, my cock pushing her open until the tops of my thighs were pressed against her ass. Her moans were more ragged now. She was watching me move inside her. Her hands fell to her sides, and her fingers gripped my thighs. I could feel her nails against my skin.

  I pulled out slowly, leaving just the tip of my dick in her. Her hands on my thighs tried to pull me closer. I made her wait. I braced myself with my hands on the back of the seat above her. She looked beautiful beneath me. Her hair was up but falling loose. Her cheeks were flushed, and the dark eyeliner on her eyes made her look like an exotic princess. Although the lipstick had long since faded away, her lips were still tinted a darker shade of pink than usual.

  “Steven,” she cooed, reaching up and running a hand over my chest. Her fingers slipped between the buttons of my shirt, and she ran her nails over my skin. “I want your cum inside me.”

  I eased my cock back into her. I pushed until I couldn’t go any further. Her hand slipped out of my shirt, and she clutched the edges of the seat. Her knuckles turned white. I began thrusting, deep and fast.

  I covered her mouth again. Both of her hands wrapped around my wrist. She cried out beneath me, and I kept going. She was closing in around me again. Fuck her pussy was tight. I loved it. I needed it. It consumed me.

  I drove myself into her one last time, and then I exploded, filling her up more than I ever had before. I pulled out and watched in fascination as my cum dripped out of her and onto the seat.

  She stayed where she was, breathless and heavy-eyed, watching me as I grabbed a napkin from the bar to clean myself up before pulling my pants back up.

  I stayed on my knees between her legs, watching as she licked her finger and lowered her hand to her pussy. She touched herself delicately and pulled away. Strands of our cum came away on her fingertips. She smiled at me, pleased with how full she was. Then, she slid a finger inside herself.

  She played with herself for a few minutes longer, letting me watch her. My hands were on the inside of her thighs, tracing small patterns while I watched her run her fingers up and down the sides of her slit.

  She stopped when we pulled on to her street. She eased her panties off and over her ankles and tucked them into the small purse she had with her.

  “What did you take those off for?” I asked as she inched her way down the seat toward to door.

  “I don’t want to ruin them,” she said simply. “I just bought them. I’ll clean up when I get inside.”

  I thought of her lying on her bed playing with herself for a while longer before she went to sleep. The image made me hard again.

  How one girl could make me feel so many things, I had no idea. I could have easily bent her over and fucked her again. I could have filled her up a second time. She would have taken it and loved every second of it, I was sure.

  But that nagging feeling of betrayal was sinking back in. It brought confusion along with it, leaving me feeling hollow and lost.

  Allie leaned over and gave me a kiss when the driver opened the door. “I’ll talk to you soon?” she asked.

  “Yeah, for sure. Thanks for coming tonight. You know, to the party.”

  “Thanks for making me come,” she smiled. “Not to the party. You know what I mean.”

  Then she was gone. I watched her make her way up the steps to the front door of her building through the tinted windows. The limo driver didn’t pull away until she was inside. As we drove down her street, I mulled over the evening.

  Allie and Andrew had been fine together. I had seen it with my own eyes. I didn’t have to worry about them.

  But why did I still have this anger inside of me? I felt unhinged, somehow, like I was losing myself in all of this. Fucking Allie always made me feel better, but it was a short-lived relief. Whenever I was alone again, all the bitterness and resentment would wash over me. Each time, it felt like I was reliving the moment of reading that diary entry about her fucking Andrew.

  And every time I came inside her, all I could think
about was my brother doing the same thing. And then them thinking she was pregnant. And then doctor’s appointments and Allie crying in waiting rooms and bathrooms and her bedroom. Each thought was darker than the last, and each held one blatant truth: I hadn’t been there.

  She had never let me in. I had been held at arm’s length and kept in the dark through the scariest time in Allie’s life. Even when she made it through, she never told me.

  That wasn’t how best friends treat each other. It wasn’t how people who loved each other were supposed to act. Secrets. Lies. Those things held no place in the space between Allie and me.

  But it was all I could feel. The betrayal and the dishonesty felt so heavy in my chest that I thought it might ruin me. The last three months had been brutal. That same hollow feeling had reared its ugly head again, and this time I had Allie. I was where I thought I was supposed to be. No matter what I did, or how many times I was with Allie, I couldn’t shake it.

  I was starting to think that maybe I never would.

  Chapter 24

  Allie

  “So you haven’t spoken to him since the night of the party?” Melissa asked over her cup of coffee.

  I wrapped my hands around my own mug of cinnamon-spiked java. “No. I waited all day yesterday hoping he would call, but he never did. I’m so confused, Melissa. I thought we had put everything behind us once and for all.”

  “You’re sure everything was fine with Andrew? Nothing happened that Steven could have misinterpreted or read too far into?”

  “No, everything was fine. Andrew and I were the same as we always are. We talked. We joked. There wasn’t any flirting. When Steven and I got in the limo, I was certain that everything was fine.” I paused and sipped my coffee.

  The café we were in was a quieter environment than our usual lunch spots, and I didn’t want to blurt out that Steven had literally ravaged me in the back of the limo. So I leaned in close and whispered it to Melissa. I told her the whole thing. I told her how hard Steven had fucked me, and how hungry he had seemed for it. “I just don’t get it. I thought it was a release, you know? I thought it was a moment of clarity for him, and he was finally free from the whole thing.”

  Melissa sighed. “Whoever said men are straightforward with love and relationships is a liar. I can’t make sense of this man of yours either. Maybe he needs more time? The party was probably a big deal for him. Sure, he fucked you, but he’s a dude. Maybe his mind caught up with him after the fact, and he’s digesting it all now?”

  “Maybe,” I said, not sure I liked that possibility. “I don’t know how much more time he needs to mull things over. I don’t know how long I can wait for him. I don’t love Andrew. I never did. I love Steven, and I always have. I don’t know what else I can do to prove it to him—or if I should bother. At a certain point, he will have to forgive me and truly put it behind him, or we’re never going to be able to be together.”

  “I hate to ask this,” Melissa said slowly. “But what if he can’t? What if he chooses not to forgive you?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I really don’t. But what’s the alternative? I wait forever?”

  “No. You shouldn’t have to do that. This is his issue now. You can come clean.”

  I groaned and leaned back in my chair. “I want things to be how they used to be, you know? I want to be able to sit with my best friend and not worry about what’s going on his head. I want to enjoy him the way I used to.”

  “With the added perks of great sex, of course,” Melissa said with a smile.

  “Well, naturally.” I laughed.

  “Then there’s only one thing you can do from here,” Melissa said. “You need to sit him down and talk to him again. This time you guys need to lay it all out there. Say everything that needs to be said, no matter how hard it is. Maybe you’ll have to hear some things you don’t want to hear. But he’s worth it, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Good. Call him. Invite him over. Sit down and hash this thing out. At the very least, you’ll have clarity, and you’ll know what steps to take next. Maybe those steps are the next ones for your relationship. Maybe not. Maybe it’ll be you deciding what you need to do for you. Either way, the conversation needs to happen. And it needs to happen sooner rather than later.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “Of course, you’re right.”

  “I’m always right.”

  “I’m scared,” I whispered, fighting back a wave of emotion. “The more I think about the night, the more I think that maybe I was wrong. He did seem a little standoffish. I mean, he’s Steven. He’s always like that at stuffy family parties. But last night he was a little cool, even when I got out of the limo. I can’t figure him out.”

  “Which is why you need to talk to him. Don’t stress trying to make sense of it all now. Talk to him. Clear the air. Make sense of it together. Otherwise, you’re just working yourself up for no reason,” Melissa reached out and rested her hand on top of mine. “You’ve got this, baby sister. I believe in you. If the worst happens, call me. You know I’ll be there with chocolates and chick flicks. You just need to say the word.”

  “Thanks, Melissa,” I said with a forced smile. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  Later, after work, I found myself sitting on my bed staring down at my phone. I had Steven’s number dialed and was trying to work up the courage to press call. I was afraid of the answer I would get when I called him. Would he blow me off again, or would he agree to come over? Would he be hesitant, or would he be as eager to me to get it all out in the open again together?

  My thumb hovered over the green dial button. I swallowed and bit my bottom lip.

  This was Steven. Why was I so worked up about this? I knew him better than anyone else. He wasn’t a cruel person. He wouldn’t want to hurt me. Even if things didn’t go the way I wanted, I knew I shouldn’t be scared to reach out to him.

  I pressed the button and lifted the phone to my ear. I waited, my stomach churning, as the phone continued to ring and ring. It went unanswered, and Steven’s voice filled the microphone. His voicemail beeped at me.

  I hung up and stared at my phone in my lap.

  I ran over the possibilities of what Steven could be doing. Chances were he was doing something similar to what I was doing: nothing. Had he seen my name flash across the screen and chosen not to answer?

  I thought back to the cocktail party. Maybe I had done something that bothered him, and I hadn’t even realized. Had I unintentionally said something too flirty to Andrew? Had I made Steven see something that wasn’t there?

  He wouldn’t ignore me for no reason. I was sure of that.

  I felt the tears coming. I tried to hold them at bay. I was desperate to keep it together. Once I started, I wouldn’t be able to get myself under control. I would spend the whole night sobbing like I had when Steven first cut me out of his life. I would wake up with a headache, which would remind me of how broken I was, and then I would cry again.

  I couldn’t keep the emotions at bay. It washed over me, starting with the lump in my throat which gave way to the first sob. I buried my face in my hands and let it happen.

  I lifted my covers and sank beneath them, pulling them up to my chin and rolling on to my side. I curled up in the fetal position, my body still shaking with sobs, and thought of how nice it had been lying with Steven in his bed the other night.

  The warmth of his body pressed up against mine had been such a comfort. It had been the best feeling in the world. There was nothing that could top it. Nothing that could compete with the sense of safety I had when I was lying pressed up against him.

  Now I felt weak and vulnerable. I felt unloved and unwanted.

  I never should have called him. I should have waited.

  He probably needed more time. Seeing my name on his missed calls wasn’t going to make matters any better. He was processing, digesting, and trying to sort out the mess I had put him in. It wasn’t like I had
slept with some random guy when I was sixteen and not told him about it. I had slept with his brother.

  Andrew was the one man Steven had ever been intimidated by. He grew up in his older brother’s shadow. His parents had praised Andrew all his life, and Steven had been somewhat of the black sheep in his family. I had never believed him when he told me that. Steven had always been perfect in my eyes.

  But his family strove for perfection; hence the fancy cocktail party. They loved both their sons equally, but they placed Andrew on a pedestal. He had been the one Steven was always compared to. I knew this was hard for Steven as a teenager.

  That was probably why this was so hard for him to swallow. I had fucked the one guy Steven had always tried to beat. And, for a whole two weeks, I had thought I was going to have Andrew’s baby. Andrew had risen to the occasion, in typical Andrew style; holding my hand, comforting me, assuring me everything would be okay, giving me rides to my appointments at the clinic. I knew all of this played a factor in how Steven felt.

  The way I had made him feel.

  A secret like mine kept for ten years was damaging. I had hurt Steven more than anyone ever had. That much was obvious now.