by Renna Peak
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get on the train.”
“I…I don’t have a ticket.”
“I have my wallet and we both have our titles,” I say. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
Releasing her, I take her hand and pull her after me into the nearest car. I reserved an entire compartment with my ticket, and I find it and duck inside, drawing her in behind me. The moment the door is shut behind us, I pull her into my arms again, my mouth coming down on hers.
Her lips open beneath mine, and she moans softly as she melts against me. I tighten my grip on her as my tongue traces her mouth.
I don’t know who is the first one to start pulling at the other’s clothes, but suddenly we’re both tearing at each other. I reach down and grab her ass, lifting her up and carrying her two steps over to the bench without even breaking our kiss. I know it’s not particularly responsible or princely to go at it in a train compartment, but I don’t think either of us can wait another moment.
I lay her down on the bench and lean over her, sliding her dress up her hips. She’s pulling at my shirt, trying to pull it up over my head, and I release her just long enough to allow her.
My breath catches as her panties come into view, my desire nearly overwhelming me.
“You know,” I say, my voice rough, “this will be the second time today I’ve fucked you in this dress.”
I hook my thumb beneath her underwear and pull it down her legs. She’s already working on my belt, and I help her undo it and unzip my pants.
The train whistle sounds again, and the compartment begins to vibrate as the train begins to move. I lower myself on top of Justine and kiss her deeply, trying to drink up every last bit of her. She groans again as one of her hands presses into my back and the other buries itself in my hair.
I grab her thighs and pull them apart, settling myself between them. She’s already so warm and so wet, and my cock slides right into her. I hear myself growl as I bury myself to the hilt.
The feeling of joining with her again is so intense that for a moment, I lose awareness of everything else. I start to move, joining us again and again, sliding in and out with a wild fury that seems to build with every thrust.
I never want to be unjoined from this woman ever again.
Justine clings to me, and her breath comes in short bursts. She cries out in pleasure, arching her hips up toward mine, and I’m lost in the feel of her, the taste of her, the smell of her. In this moment, she’s mine completely.
I’m not going to last long, not at this intensity. But I can’t seem to slow down, either. As I’m pushing us toward the edge, though, Justine suddenly releases me and pushes against my shoulders.
“Wait,” she gasps in a strangled voice. “Hold on.”
I’m so mad with desire that it takes a moment for her words to register, and when they do, shock moves through my body. How can she expect me to stop? Why the hell does she want me to stop? Anger rises inside of me, but it’s quickly pushed down by shame.
“Am I hurting you?” I say, suddenly worried. “Are you—?”
“I’m fine,” she says breathlessly. “I just… I keep hitting my elbow on the back of the bench. Can we switch around a little?”
The thought of separating from her, even for a second, is pure agony—but so is the thought of her being in any sort of pain. I nod, sitting up.
I expect her to sit up, too, to climb on top of me. Instead, she rolls over onto her hands and knees, facing away from me. She looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes shining with a teasing lust as she shakes her hips at me.
It doesn’t get any less subtle than that, and I’m only too happy to oblige.
In under a second, I’m behind her, joining with her again, sinking into her with a groan. This angle makes it even easier to go deep, to bury myself in her as far as I can go.
And I lose all sense of control.
Gripping her hips, I move against her, and within seconds I can no longer distinguish between her moans and my own. Everything about this woman is exquisite and intoxicating, and I would be perfectly happy dying like this, deep in pleasure with my wife.
Suddenly, she cries out, and as her body begins to contract around mine, my body tumbles toward its own finish. I slam myself into her a final time, gripping her hips as ecstasy rushes through me.
When the wave has crashed, we both collapse on the bench, and she continues to tremble slightly as the aftershocks move through her. I help her slide down her dress and then pull her into my arms as I lean back against the bench.
“That was…”
“Amazing,” she finishes. Then she laughs.
Once again, I’m shocked by the simple beauty of that sound. I drop my chin to her shoulder, pulling her closer.
And as the train carries us toward Montovia, I find myself grinning like a madman.
Justine
Everything seems to have dissolved in this moment—all the misunderstandings, arguments, and fights that have happened between William and me. He holds me, kissing me tenderly, and for that long while there is nothing else.
But then William speaks. “It could be like this, you know. It could always be like this.” He sighs against my hair. “I want it to always be like this.”
I say nothing, allowing my eyes to flutter closed. I want it to be like this, too, but I don’t want to be the one to point out that we still have obstacles—that things are not always going to be as perfect as they are in this moment.
Before I know what’s happening, William is whispering again in my ear. “Justine. Justine, we’re here.”
I sit, blinking rapidly. “We’re here? They never even came to check on our tickets—”
William interrupts with a chuckle. “They did, but you were asleep. Out like a light.” He grins. “I’d like to think that perhaps I had something to do with that…”
I can’t help but smile, shaking my head.
“I will say, this dress is my favorite of yours so far.” He lifts a suggestive brow and pulls my hands into his. “Though, I suppose we have some time to see if I can find another favorite.”
I sigh as he lifts my hand to his lips, kissing the top of it before turning it over to kiss my wrist.
“All right, Prince Casanova,” I say, gently pulling my arm away, “are we going to stay on this train all day? Or did you have something else planned?”
His grin seems impossibly wide. “Oh, I’ve been thinking of all manner of things I’m going to show you. The first of which is my suite in the palace, where I don’t plan to let you leave for days.”
A giggle escapes me as he lifts me up, kissing me as he carries me out of the compartment. He sets me down when we enter the more crowded passenger car and start attracting attention.
At least we aren’t fighting in front of the Montovian people. Still, it’s odd to me that Montovians are so old-fashioned as far as public displays of affection compared to the people of Rosvalia. The crowd is still murmuring, muttering to each other about the kissing. Montovia is much more progressive than Rosvalia in many ways, at least as far as the rights of women are concerned, but so much more intolerant of affection.
William pulls my hand into his, giving it a small squeeze as he smiles down at me. “Are you ready?”
I give him a small nod, and we leave the train. The sun is bright, and judging by its position in the sky, it’s still early morning. It’s hard to believe I slept all night, but perhaps William was right. Maybe it is because he satisfied me—because I finally let myself be free with him. It’s the first time in a long while that I could just let things be.
I sigh to myself. I will likely never admit it to William, but he does satisfy me in a way I’ve never been satisfied before. And it isn’t only the sex, which so far has been more than amazing. There’s something else between us. Something deeper that I can’t quite put my finger on. Perhaps it’s the passion behind everything—we fight passionately, so it makes sense that our lovemaking would be
equally passionate. But that doesn’t quite ring true, either. I’m not certain I can name whatever it is that I’m feeling deep inside me. I only know that I want to be with him now, and I long for him when we’re apart.
Wait. I long for him?
That doesn’t seem right. I know I was in love with James. At least I thought I knew I was. But I don’t remember having these sorts of feelings for him. What James and I had was something different, something…less mature, maybe. I remember longing for his attention, for his approval. But I don’t recall longing for him, necessarily.
But my past is of no matter now. William seems to be over his jealous spell, at least for the moment. I’ve come with him to his home country, a place I’ve only visited a few times in my life. Of course, the last time was for the weeks-long charade of his brother’s search for a suitable wife, and I didn’t see much of the country on that trip. Mostly, I saw the inside of the palace walls and a bit of the gardens. It seemed like if I should take the risk of leaving my own suite, I would run into someone unsavory—or at least someone I didn’t want to see. Those weeks were some of the most difficult of my life, and they certainly didn’t get any better when Andrew announced his love for another on international television. And they seemed to get even worse when William announced our betrothal.
Everything that happened in Montovia seems like a million years ago, even though it’s only been a few months. And as William holds my hand, it seems like even longer ago. Perhaps none of it matters. Perhaps—just perhaps—I was meant to go through those trials to find this man.
Tears well in my eyes at the thought, and I quickly blink them back.
“What is it?” William’s eyes have gone wide, and he stops us inside the train station, turning me to him.
I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s certainly something. I don’t… You don’t cry for nothing. I…” He frowns. “I’m sorry for my atrocious behavior the past few days, Justine. I honestly don’t know what’s come over me.” He stares down into my eyes for a moment. “Actually, that’s a lie. I know exactly what’s come over me.”
I’m not exactly sure what’s come over either of us, but I sniffle back whatever it is that was welling inside me for a moment. “And what is that?”
He grins. “I think I’ll save that proclamation for somewhere other than the train station.”
“Proclamation?” I can’t help but smile. “You have another proclamation?”
He tilts his head. “Another?” A wry smile comes to his lips. “Ah, we’re back to the surprise betrothal again. Will you ever be able to forgive me for that, Princess?”
Something about the way he says princess this time makes me smile. “I’m not sure, Your Highness. You might have to make it up to me. Again. And again.”
The growl that comes from deep inside him is barely audible before he pulls me into his arms. He dips his head to my ear. “Your wish is my command.” He pulls back just enough to look down into my eyes. “And if we weren’t in Montovia’s train station, I’d make it up to you right here.” He looks down. “While you’re still wearing my favorite dress.”
I laugh, and slap playfully at his chest. “There will be plenty of time for that later.” I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I can’t seem to stop smiling. “But speaking of dresses, I should probably stop somewhere and get something else to wear.”
He lifts a brow. “Where we’re going, I guarantee you won’t need a dress. I plan to have you naked in my bed for at least three days. If not longer.”
“Well, Your Highness, I suppose you should take me to the palace then. I’d very much like to get out of this dress.”
He growls again, and nearly pulls my arm off as we head for the exit.
We can’t get to the palace quickly enough. He calls a car, and we’re there within another few minutes. William kisses and fondles me in the back seat of the car, and I swear, if there wasn’t a driver sitting just in front of us, we’d probably have another go at each other before we arrived at his home.
And he can’t seem to wait for me either. As soon as the car pulls up to the entry, William pulls me out by the arm. We both run for the door—it’s almost as though we can’t get to his bed quickly enough.
As we reach the entrance, the door is opened for us. A short man I recognize as the king’s valet stands at the threshold. He gives us a shallow bow. “Your Highnesses. I hadn’t realized you’d been summoned back to the palace.”
William gives the man a look that could almost be interpreted as a sneer. “Nice to see you, too, Stephan. If you’ll excuse us—”
“Your Highness, Princess Justine.” He interrupts William without even acknowledging him, staring at me. “I’m certain your father, King Maximilian, will be happy to see you.”
“My…what?” My eyes go wide, and I’m not sure I understand what he’s saying.
He smiles, looking between the two of us. “Why, didn’t you know? Your father is here at the palace. He’s been staying with us for the past several weeks.”
William
There’s nothing like the presence of my asshole father-in-law to ruin what was certain to be the honeymoon both Justine and I deserved. I’d rather spend the next few days with Stephan breathing down my neck than King Max.
Justine doesn’t seem to be taking the news any better. She’s gone pale, and she starts biting her thumbnail—until, like before, she seems to realize what she’s doing and yanks her hand away from her mouth.
“I thought…” She straightens, gathering herself. “I was under the impression that he had some business in Brussels.”
Stephan bows his head, but it’s almost a mocking gesture. “Which, I understand, concluded early. As I said, Your Highness, he’s been here for a few weeks now.”
There’s no good reason for King Maximilian to be here—I thought we’d settled everything between our countries when we drew up the terms for my marriage to Justine. But then I remember the mysterious things happening in the eastern wing of King Max’s palace—and how strange and secretive people have been around me there—and my stomach sinks even deeper. This isn’t good at all.
“I…I think I should probably go see him,” Justine says.
“I’d like to have a few words with him myself,” I growl.
Justine grips my arm, looking up at me with alarm. “Let me handle this. Don’t say or do anything…reckless.”
“I assure you, His Majesty is handling everything himself,” Stephan says.
“I’d still like to see my father,” Justine tells him. “You’ll take me to him now.”
A look of shock passes across Stephan’s face at Justine’s tone—he wasn’t expecting her to have a backbone. I laugh—then hide the sound quickly behind a cough when Stephan glares at me. I’ve spent much of my life antagonizing Stephan—as have most of my siblings—and though he’s one of the most unpleasant people I’ve ever met, I know he has my father’s best interests at heart. And I have bigger enemies to deal with right now.
“Very well,” Stephan says, scowling. “I’ll take you to the receiving chamber. But if Their Majesties wish for privacy, then—”
“I’m sure they’ll grant an audience to their children,” I say, still grinning. “Come on, you old grump. We’re both exhausted and I’d rather get the reunion over with.”
Stephan gives a sniff of disapproval, but then he turns to lead us to our respective fathers.
“After you, Princess,” I say, smiling down at my wife.
She still looks worried—as worried as I feel, deep down—but she offers me a small smile in return before taking my arm and heading down the corridor with me.
When we reach my father’s formal receiving suite, Stephan has already disappeared inside. I’m sure he expects us to wait out here until he gives us permission to enter, but I don’t have the patience for such rules. I push open the door and stride inside, Justine still on my arm.
Stephen spins around at the soun
d of the door opening, his eyebrows drawn together as he glares at us for our impropriety. Our fathers, on the other hand, show little in the way of emotion.
Which is part of what makes them two of the most terrifying men I know, I think wryly, fighting back another laugh. Though I’d take my father over Justine’s any day.
My father is the first to speak. He rises from his chair—a little more stiffly than he might have before his heart attack, but still quite regally—and says, “Welcome home, Son. What a pleasant surprise. And Princess Justine—your father should have told me you’d be visiting us, too.”
The subtle dig doesn’t escape King Maximilian. The corners of his mouth twitch, but he manages to suppress any sort of actual expression of displeasure. He rises, too. “Daughter. You didn’t tell me you would be coming.”
“I didn’t realize you’d be here,” Justine answers calmly. “You told us you’d be in Brussels. And William wished to bring me here for a little while—I didn’t get to see much of Montovia when I was here before.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t give you any warning, Father,” I say cheerfully. “I thought I’d surprise Mother.”
“She’ll be delighted, of course,” my father says, almost smiling. Now that he’s over the initial shock of seeing me, he’s not displeased at all—and in fact, I think he’s enjoying the fact that Justine’s presence has obviously unsettled King Maximilian.
I wonder why King Max is so displeased? That’s definitely worth investigating.
“We don’t wish to disturb your meeting,” I say. “We just wanted to say hello. We’ve been on a train all night and should probably go catch some shut-eye. Why don’t we all have dinner later?”
“I’m sure Maximilian would love the chance to dine with his daughter and new son-in-law,” my father says. “I’ll have everything arranged.”