The King's Surprise Bride_A Royal Wedding Novella

by Vivien Vale

  My dad’s story works. I’m silenced and lost in thought…for a few seconds, at least. Then I think of a question.

  “Dad...was Mom really your only reason for having the farm?”

  “She was for a while, Junie. Until another reason came along.”

  “Okay, Dad, I appreciate it, but…I don’t know.”

  “Just don’t break out any legal papers, Junebug. Not yet.”

  “Okay, Dad…I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Junebug. I need to sleep.”

  Hearing my dad hang up, I don’t feel any better.

  That story doesn’t translate. There are phones everywhere at every time.

  And I love my mom more than life itself, but she wasn’t a super-wealthy playboy.

  What if something happened to him?

  I slam down the receiver, trying to quell the worst anxiety I’ve felt tonight.

  It doesn’t work.

  Carter

  My head feels like it’s been held under water for so long, my eardrums have burst and the bubbles have stopped coming up.

  I stand there in the doorway feeling like my brain’s come unscrewed. My head is an echo chamber of black thoughts and bad decisions right now, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from acting on every single fucking one of them.

  But then I see her. I see June—my bride, mother of my child.

  And then slowly—slowly but surely—the sound returns to my ears.

  I look at her, standing there by the window with her long silken hair haloed by light, and for the first time since I left, everything feels like it might be alright.

  This must be what coming home to love feels like.

  She’s draped in blue satin and glowing golden. Her hands are placed protectively over her belly. But then I see the look on her face.

  Her body says Hail, Mary, but the way she has her brows furrowed at me looks anything but full of grace.

  Eyes full of something I can’t quite place. Was it anger, sadness, or a combination of both?

  Or could it even be something different altogether?

  So, this is what it fucking feels like to be held accountable for my actions.

  “It’s late,” she begins. “How is he? I mean, is everything alright?” Her voice is a little shaky.

  I shrug.

  “What happened? It’s so late. I worried, you didn’t call,” she stops.

  Those huge eyes of hers fill with tears.

  Okay, so I know she wants me to talk to her and tell her what happened, giving her every last bit of detail.

  But there’s one fucking problem.

  I don’t want to fucking talk. All I want to do is grab her by the waist and rip her gown off her shoulders. My mind is not on what happened at the bar anymore. No, it’s somewhere totally different.

  Fuck, she looks so hot.

  Without thinking, I take a step toward her, and before I really know what the fuck I’m doing, I’ve grabbed her by the shoulders.

  My fingers are digging into her soft flesh. I barely take any notice of the change in her eyes. It’s a fleeting change, one I should pay attention to.

  I’ve got no coherent thought left in my mind. In fact, my brain’s gone on vacation and left my dick in charge.

  I lose all sense of time. My mouth finds hers and pushes down her hard. Every bit of my body wants her.

  Possessive, I push my tongue into her mouth. I’m so overwhelmed with desire I don’t hear her muffled screams or take note of her pushing me away.

  Like a drunk man, I clutch to the only solid thing in my life right now.

  June.

  She’s my light. She’s my sunshine. She’s my everything.

  I want her. I need her. If I can’t fuck her this minute, I think I might lose my mind.

  It seems to me as if she’s the only thing that can save me right now.

  And when I say I want her and I need her, I don’t even know exactly what I mean. It feels so intense and so genuine, but she’s inspiring something in me that I don’t comprehend, something deep.

  It’s well beyond some drunken fucking lust. It’s almost like it’s beyond any lust—though that’s certainly a huge fucking part of it.

  But the yearning I have for her…it’s like everything broken in me, in the world is healed by her presence and her kindness and just every magnificent goddamn thing about her.

  It’s almost like I need her to save me.

  Of course, I have no fucking idea what I need saving from. I only have a feeling, a strange feeling growing inside of me.

  This whole fucking evening had been a mistake. Once Lawrence called, I should have known he had something planned.

  You don’t go ignoring someone and then suddenly ask him or her to meet you in some bar if you didn’t have some ulterior motive.

  Of course, the fool that I am, I walked right into his little game.

  By now, my tongue is trying to reach for her tonsils. I’m so desperate for her. I want to devour her.

  It’s not until I feel a stabbing pain between my legs and the world goes out of focus that I take a step back. Something’s not right.

  My body folds like it’s fucking laundry day, temporarily making it an enormous challenge to breathe.

  Fuck.

  “Sorry,” June’s sobbing.

  I’m consumed by pain for a few more seconds. And when it subsides, I straighten up.

  Did she really just kick me in the balls?

  Her hands are covering her face. Behind her, the city is still slumbering. Here and there, I can see a light on in the high-rise buildings we can see from up here.

  It won’t be long before it’ll come to life.

  As I look at my June—so vulnerable, so sad, and so utterly shattered, I realize what I’ve just tried to do.

  How could I?

  Instead of coming home to this gorgeous woman and talking to her, I’ve come in and tried to fuck her.

  Suddenly, I feel about as big as the crap on the bottom of my shoe. In fact, I should be the crap on the bottom of someone’s shoe.

  I have acted totally selfishly. No, worse, I’ve reacted—and I can’t even say what I reacted to.

  “June,” I take a step toward her.

  Horrified, I notice her flinch. Her body starts to shake, and her hands seem to find her belly again.

  Her eyes are swollen and red.

  Oh, Jesus, what have I done? Who am I?

  “June, I’m sorry,” I reach out and touch her lightly on the shoulder.

  She flinches but does not move away.

  “I’ve…sick…worry…talk…” She’s sobbing so much now, her words make no sense.

  Tentatively, I approach June.

  This time, I wrap my arms around her and hold her softly, delicately. It takes a bit of time, but eventually she relaxes into me.

  She continues to sob.

  It takes her what seems like an eternity to get a hold of herself, but her sobbing eventually eases.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper over and over again as I stroke her hair.

  And I am so truly fucking sorry that I’m terrified I’ll never be able to express it correctly.

  I’m sorry for having gone to meet Lawrence.

  I’m sorry for getting back so goddamn late.

  And I’m especially fucking sorry for trying to have sex with her like some clumsy monster the moment I stumbled in.

  June’s sobbing slowly subsides completely, and she pulls out of my embrace.

  “What happened?”

  I shrug. Where do I even start?

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  June wraps her arms around her, as if warding off some evil force in the room.

  “You have to talk about it. You have to tell me,” she insists.

  Our eyes meet. Hundreds of unspoken words pass between us.

  Have I really only known this woman for a few weeks? It seems so much longer.

  “Okay,” I grumble and run my h
ands through my hair.

  “Okay, what?”

  Feeling too guilty to even look at her, I start to pace the room.

  Sometimes it’s easier to get things off my chest if I keep moving. I’m not sure what it is, probably has something to do with endorphins or some shit.

  “Lawrence wasn’t alone at the bar tonight,” I start, but my entire mouth fucking freezes up before I can say another word.

  Why is it so fucking hard to talk about what happened?

  Because I acted like a total fool is the answer, but I can’t tell June that—not like that, at least. June deserves the truth, but fuck, I don’t even know what the truth is.

  “Lawrence was there tonight with Chantal. Chantal is the very first woman I had sex with. And, from that very first time, she got pregnant—and you know the rest already.”

  I stop there.

  It’s not a stop for dramatic effect. I need to catch my breath. June stays perfectly still, as if fearing she might ruin the moment by making the wrong move.

  “Anyway, tonight, they told me she’s going to be married to Lawrence. And on top of that, that she’s pregnant.”

  Another pause.

  June still does not move.

  “I don’t know,” I continue. “There’s something wrong with all this. I mean, she had an abortion when she was pregnant with me. I know that was a long damn time ago, but why would she suddenly be pregnant with my brother’s child and want to keep it?”

  If I thought June is going to have something, or anything to say about that, I was mistaken. She’s still just standing, her back to the window, arms wrapped around herself.

  “You’ve got to understand, June, I don’t love her. Tonight, I realized I never loved her. It’s just…I don’t understand what the two are up to. I’d hate for an innocent child to be brought into the world by two crazy drug addicts who may only be doing this to spite me…and get into the good graces of our father.”

  There. I’d told her everything there’s to tell.

  Silence.

  It’s so quiet, I think I can hear my own heart beating in my chest.

  “I’m sorry,” mutters June.

  Her words shatter my heart. It’s so like June to take on the burden of others. There’s absolutely fucking nothing she has to be sorry about.

  Finally, I stop my pacing and stare at her.

  Behind her, the sun is now starting to rise from its slumber. Golden rays of sunlight are making their way into the window. June is bathed in this light, and for a brief second, I think I can see a halo above her head.

  Angelic.

  She’s my angel—my guardian angel.

  With her by my side, I can get through anything.

  I try approaching her again.

  This time, I bend down toward her waiting lips.

  Gently, softly, and slowly, my lips hover above hers before they come down to kiss her.

  My intention is a kiss.

  But her hands wrap around my neck, and I feel another surge of intense feelings rush through me. Somehow, I feel I love her even more than I did this morning.

  My hands caress her ass, her back and then rub her belly.

  A tiny moan of pleasure from her lips tells me she’s ready.

  June

  The rain rushes down the living room window as my palm slaps against it. Carter’s own palm covers the back of mine, warm and rough. He fits his fingers into the spaces between mine and squeezes tight.

  His free hand cups the sharp angle of my lower ribcage, just above the slight swell of my belly. He pulls my body against his, and I find myself trapped between two worlds of sensation: the chill of the glass window and the hard, demanding heat of him.

  I’ve never seen Carter like this before. Never felt the darkness that accompanies the way his lips find my skin.

  First, a hard kiss. Then, a hungry scrape of teeth.

  “Tell me you want it,” he growls against my neck. His teeth sink into the soft, delicate flesh there, and I cry out. In agony, or in ecstasy, I’m still not sure. “Tell me you want me, June. Me and only me.”

  The sharpness of his teeth biting into my skin floods my brain with pleasure and longing. I can feel Carter’s darkness wrap around me like smoke in the night. And I can feel it sinking beneath my skin, traveling through my veins, and filling my head with dark, primal desires of my own.

  “You,” I gasp. “You and only you.”

  Even before my words are out, his body is pushing hard against mine. For the briefest of seconds, I fear the glass might give way, so much force is there behind the movement.

  It seems strange to me how a few minutes ago, the sun was poking its golden rays through the window, and now there’s a raging storm. The sound of the rain against the window is akin to drummers beating wildly on their drums.

  My own heart beats wildly in my chest.

  Perhaps it wasn’t so strange to see the dramatic change in the weather, or perhaps it wasn’t so strange to see the dramatic change in Carter.

  We’re all capable of dramatic change, people and nature.

  I myself took drastic action when I found Kody had cheated on me. Admittedly, my change was not as rough or dark as Carter’s was.

  “Tell me again,” Carter demands.

  His hands are running down my sides, exploring my curves.

  “You. I want you,” I repeat and feel my heart beat a little faster.

  Loud thunder growls in the distance.

  Seconds later, the sky lights up with the zigzag of a massive lightning strike.

  Since arriving in the city, I haven’t seen a storm like this. Back home, these kinds of thunderstorms happen all the time.

  When I was little, the loud booming of a thunderstorm would always send me running to seek out my dad and hug him fearfully. He would tell me how a thunderstorm was just nature’s way of arguing. I didn’t care for that explanation.

  Right now, with Carter’s massive cock at the opening of my wet pussy, I’m torn between fear of the storm and lust ripping through me.

  The way I’m pressed against the cold, hard glass of the window is less than comfortable. Any sign of tenderness that Carter had shown a few minutes before he ripped my clothes off is gone.

  In its place is this animal, and I’m not sure I like it.

  Perhaps if I weren’t pregnant, I’d feel different about this strong and rough beast.

  As if reading my mind, he spins me around.

  Now I’m facing him. I’m breathing short and shallow. There’s no doubt about it, even with my mixed feelings, that I’m horny as a cow in season.

  “Do you want me to fuck you, June? Here, against the window?”

  Even his voice is not his any more. It’s deeper and angrier.

  And darker.

  For a second, I wonder if there’s been a switch again. Could it be Lawrence who’s looking at me like that and talking to me in that voice?

  No. I couldn’t say why exactly, but…I just really don’t feel like it is.

  If only there were some evidence for certainty’s sake.

  My eyes find his cock.

  Okay, so I haven’t seen Lawrence naked, but I know this cock. I know that this cock, standing at attention, is the one that’s been inside of me a few times now.

  It’s definitely Carter’s cock.

  And then another thought strikes me. Is this yet another brother I didn’t know about? Are the Abraham brothers actually triplets?

  Or quadruplets, maybe?

  Darn it. It’s time to shut down that line of thinking before I go batty.

  “Is it a yes or a no?”

  His question throws me for a loop. I haven’t been paying attention—I’m too wrapped up in my own confusion and apprehension.

  On the one hand, I want the old Carter back. But on the other hand, I kind of want to see where this is going.

  I’m realizing now, as a feverish heat spreads through me, that I kind of really want to see where this is going.
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br />   The sound of rain whipping against the window behind me is overcome momentarily by a crash of thunder in the distance.

  “Yes.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

  “Yes, what? ‘Yes, fuck me?’ Say, it June. Come on, say it. ‘Fuck me, Carter.’”

  As he speaks to me, his face contorts. It makes him look as if he’s in pain.

  I swallow.

  He knows I don’t swear.

  He knows I don’t even think in swear words—usually.

  “I can’t hear you.”

  His cock is pressing against my pussy. It seems to be searching for the gateway to heaven.

  “I want you...” My voice stops suddenly.

  I can’t say it.

  “‘Fuck me. Carter, I want you to fuck me’,” he says for me.

  “Carter…yes, I want you.”

  It’s all I can say for now, and before I can say anything else, his mouth finds mine again.

  By now, his hands are roving all over me. His fingers find my nipples. They squeeze and pull and tease.

  Being a little more sensitive in the breast area already, it does not take much to get them hard. In fact, as soon as Carter touches them, they turn so hard, I’m pleased I’m not facing the window anymore, because I’d probably cut through the glass.

  He lifts his mouth and finds my tits. His teeth grab and pull at my nipples, like a dog with a piece of rawhide.

  He shakes and pulls left to right and back again. I bite my bottom lip.

  I’m not used to the sensations of pleasure and pain mixed together so thoroughly.

  Just when I think I’ll go insane with sensational overload, his mouth stops and pulls off me, releasing my nipple with a loud pop. Carter’s mouth travels to my belly, and he places what feels like thousands of kisses on me with no pauses.

  Now I close my eyes and lean my head against the window. Thunder rumbles through the clouds again.

  “So, June, are you ready to be fucked?” His eyes are locked on mine again. How does he move so quickly up and down? “I mean, really be fucked?”

  With a quivering lip, I nod.

  It may not be obvious from my quiet nod, but my insides are burning with desire, and my pussy is positively dripping with want.