“God, I’ve missed you so much,” he growled.
Alanna raised her head, her smile nearly shattering him. “I can tell.” She touched his lips, slipping her nail into his mouth.
He sucked on her beautiful manicured finger, so sweet. Then curled his knuckle around her G-string, pulling it off.
“Now, you may kiss me,” she breathed.
Cupping the nape of her neck, he tilted her head, and dived into her mouth.
Her tongue stroked his with an urgent hunger, growing more fervent with every second. She was sweeter than when he left.
Flynn was finally home.
She grabbed his dick, raised herself up to position him at her entrance, then she slowly sank onto him. Her exhale was like a song.
He could’ve died right then.
Alanna was so wet, so hot, so silky around his cock.
After his long flight back from Australia, this was all he wanted right here. To collapse with his personal sex-kitten, to absorb her energy, and send her off the edge.
“This is what I’ve been waiting for,” he rasped. He gazed into her dark eyes, full of lust. “I want to make you come so hard, you scream.”
His queen rocked against him, the motion of the car aiding their rhythm. “God, I love you, Flynn.” Her chest rose and fell with her delightful gasps.
A glorious sheen glistened across her breasts, and her form shook with each thrust.
His hands found her nipples and teased them mercilessly in little circles. “Tell me what you love.”
“I love your cock, I love your eyes, I love your hands…damn, your hands…and I love you.”
“Alanna,” he rasped. “I love you.”
Her gaze flashed with an intensity that scared him as much as it drove him over the edge. She seared her lips to his, their plunges growing faster.
“We’re not going to make our dinner,” Flynn croaked.
She shook her head, panting too hard to respond.
“I want you right here…all night long. Over and over.”
He thrust hard.
Her face contorted and she clasped her eyes shut. Then exploded. Her tight sex squeezed around his dick, milking him…stretching him.
She gasped, ready to scream the rest of her release.
He covered her mouth and swallowed the ecstasy, while pulling her ass into his dick so hard, that stars flashed before his eyes.
Alanna
“So much for my romantic dinner.” She ran her fingers through her tangled hair.
“That was plenty romantic.” Flynn lay on top of her on the back seat in the back of the limo, their bodies doused with a silky sheen and the scent of sex.
They’d lost track of how long they’d been driving around, but the driver never once interrupted them, or even knocked.
Alanna just wanted to stay in this moment forever. They’d stolen a night of solitude away from her role, and she savored it.
The days away from Flynn had eroded some of her rationality, and she needed a refill of his healing energy. His calming nature.
Although, she felt nothing close to calm right now. She fought to catch her breath after their third round.
“How was your trip?” she asked.
“Informative.”
She chuckled. “On which topic?”
Her love sat up, and braced himself on his elbow. Then traced loving circles with his fingertips around her sensitive nipples. “My parents are doing well, more than I want to know. I have their approval to marry you. To have children with you. To make love to you every minute of every day.”
Alanna dragged her nails down the back of his scalp. “They didn’t say that.”
“Well, that last bit was my approval.”
“Have you heard about André and Gemma?”
“Of course. Quintana filled me in on the plane ride home.”
Quintana was a trusted aide of the royal family. A former soldier who’d helped reclaim the palace during the initial invasion from cartel mercenaries last year, he’d taken a bullet in the leg. Forced into early retirement, he enjoyed his new role as royal aide. Flynn liked his direct, rational manner.
“What he didn’t tell me was how you feel about it.”
“I was disappointed I wasn’t there, obviously. Lost my temper. But I understand why they did it.”
“Stole our idea, didn’t they?”
She nodded.
“So, we have to have the big ceremony now, right?”
She nodded again.
“Then may I make one request?”
“Of course.” Alanna squeezed his pectoral. His chest was one of her favorite features. She loved touching him.
“Make the wedding sooner rather than later. I can’t wait to be married to you.”
She chuckled. “My thoughts exactly.”
Flynn kissed her again, long and slow, lingering on her lips.
“You mentioned children.” She tiled her head to gauge his response.
It was something they hadn’t spoken on much.
“Mm-hm.”
“How many were you thinking of, exactly?”
“As many as you want.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. I have only one concern around that…”
Alanna held her breath.
“How soon can we start?”
Chapter THIRTEEN
Gemma
The lily-white silk swished around her legs as she paced the room, the gossamer curtains obscuring the fading sunlight through the bay windows in the sitting room.
The sunset over the royal gardens might as well have been painted by Monet, with how glorious the colors streaked the sky.
Her mind wouldn’t settle.
“You’ll wear out the carpet,” Cataline joked. “Why so nervous? You’re already married.”
Gemma touched her forehead, careful not to wipe off any makeup so painstakingly applied the hour before by three artists. She didn’t think the original dress she’d worn at the state dinner last year was unbeatable.
Until she saw the reception dress, designed just for her. The strapless gown hugged her torso beautifully, holding in her breasts with surprising comfort in the straight-across neckline. Shimmery lace embroidered in an intricate floral design around the bodice, with real amepphires sewn into the swirls. The same gemstones in the wreath necklace gracing her neck, and matching tiara. The gown billowed out at her waistline, the silk as white as the lilies in the vases all throughout the palace.
Which buzzed with excitement. The walls seemed to hum with the sheer number of guests attending this reception, nearly triple the state dinner.
“So many people,” she breathed.
Cataline sighed. “I know what you need.” She whispered something into a tiny microphone, clearly attached to someone on the other end of her earpiece. Then grabbed a flute of champagne from the buffet table on the other side of the room. She filled it to the brim, and handed it to Gemma.
She frowned. “I appreciate the gesture, but champagne isn’t my thing.”
“Of course not. Your remedy is on the way.”
She took a few sips, grimacing at the bubbles gliding down her throat. “This whole thing seems ridiculous. Why the wedding gown like this, if it’s just a reception? Food and dancing means stretchy pants and boots.”
Cataline snorted. “There’s an image. At least you don’t have a veil or a long train to trip up in. You’re lucky. Most weddings are marathons. This is merely a sprint.”
Gemma forced a deep breath. She’d promised Alanna the grand reception. The least they could do to make up for their last minute, exclusive wedding.
The door knocked, and swung open.
In stepped André.
Her heart skipped. Staring at her husband in the full princely getup. The black tuxedo—complete with tails—decked with the traditional royal blue sash, and his gold and silver chain collar and medallions on his breast pocket—made her instantly wet
.
“Now, there’s an image.”
His eyes nearly glittered, staring at her. “You are…” He swallowed. “…heaven on Earth.”
She moved across the room slowly, absorbing his magnetism and branding his expression in her mind.
André stood perfectly still, until he placed his hand over his heart. “You’ll cause cardiac arrests in that room…”
Like the moon embracing the shadow of an eclipse, she moved into his frame, the gown pushing into his legs, and slid her hands behind his neck.
Their kiss was unguarded, yet tender, settling her nerves, yet simultaneously igniting her anticipation for after the reception. Her prince tasted like honey and peppermint.
“I desperately want to take you right here, while you wear this gown.” He spoke the words so quietly, so only she could hear.
“You kissed the words right out of my mouth.”
He covered her lips once again, delving deeper than before, his hand braced around her back and pulling her closer.
Cataline quietly left the room, giving them their privacy. She cast a warm smile before closing the door behind her.
André’s hands glided down Gemma’s backside.
“Good luck, there’s far too much skirt to feel up my ass.”
His devilish smile lit her up inside. “I can always find your ass. I know every inch of your body.”
“Do we have time for a quickie?”
“We have all the time we want. It’s our reception.”
He slowly sashayed her back, moving her to the credenza by the windows. Bracing her on the desk’s edge, André gathered her skirt under all the layers and crinoline, and pulled them up, his hand smoothing along her lace lingerie. He pushed the fabric aside, rolling his fingers along her folds.
Gemma’s heart raced. Her mouth went dry as the throbbing between her legs expanded to the rest of her limbs.
“I love watching your breasts rise and fall in this dress…so easy to see when you’re excited.”
She reached forward, feeling his rigid length through his tuxedo. He moaned against her lips. “Likewise.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Go away,” she called.
Her husband chuckled, and pulled her underwear to the floor.
“It’s time, Your Highness.” Cataline called through the door.
“Give us two minutes,” André answered.
“Two minutes?” Gemma whispered.
“You said a quickie.” He slid one finger into her warm slit, then another.
She mewled.
“We might have time to cuddle after.” His thumb found her sensitive nub, swirling it in slow circles.
Her hips rocked into him, the involuntary spasms shocking through her system. Her fingers tightened around his cock, yanking a groan from his lips. She unfastened his pants, her fingers rushed and eager.
Once he was finally free, the pants fell to his knees. She helped guide his dick to her entrance. “Don’t you dare mess up this dress. But you aren’t allowed to stop until I say so.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.” He surged inside her.
She opened her mouth to cry out, but André covered her mouth with his own. And swallowed her cry of ecstasy.
Ever so slowly, he pulled out and repeated, making her feel every inch of him sliding against her. Gently rocking his hips into her, pumping her in tortuous pleasure.
Gemma forced her eyes open. The sight of André—her husband—wearing his tuxedo and his medallions shaking as he made love to her…
She gripped the back of his neck, and matched his thrusts. She hooked her leg around his ass, pulling him in deeper. She tried to urge him faster, but he shook his head, and kept his movements slow.
“Now I know how it feels,” his voice shook. “To make love to an angel.”
“With a crooked halo. But I’ve known what making love to an angel feels like for a year.”
His mouth found hers, and their tongues danced. Their bodies slowly melted into each other, until she reached heaven’s highest peak. She tumbled from the clouds, André’s mouth capturing every savory ounce of her orgasmic moan.
Until on the final surge, he plunged off the edge of that mountain as well.
After a few moments, they were back to rights, and Gemma reapplied her lipstick using the wall mirror.
Another knock pulled them around.
“Pase,” André answered, readjusting his cuff links.
Cataline opened the door, her pink cheeks revealing she knew exactly what they’d just done. “The queen is waiting.”
Heat rushed her face, and she turned to André. “You ready, Your Highness?”
“I am if you are, princess.”
In the throne room, all the guests gathered for the grand reception, waiting for the guests of honor.
Rico and Luciana stood toward the front, anxious for a dance. At least from what Gemma spied through crack in the door to the ballroom.
Gemma had promised him a dance as well. Her heart raced, but with her husband on her arm, she’d get through anything. Including formal receptions.
Stefano and Cataline mingled with the crowd, both attending as guests, per the royal family’s insistence.
The orchestra in the corner waited on baited breath. The guests in the room—the whole palace—seemed anxious, as if anticipating the curtain to be pulled back. Yet, instead of revealing an elusive wizard controlling Oz, André and Gemma would step forward, hand-in-hand. Officially announcing with grand pretense that one of the world’s most eligible and desirable bachelors was officially claimed.
Gemma swallowed. Then glanced at the man beside her. A dream in a tailored black tux, smooth jawline, and dazzling eyes.
She smiled.
He winked.
Last year, the man was just an inexperienced city boy on Reyna’s ranch. Where I fell in love with how much he pissed me off. Only to fall more deeply in love with how much he loved her, despite her pushing him away. A man whom the world coveted and exalted.
And he chose me.
The Royal Herald pounded the long staff on the wooden floor. “Her Majesty, Queen Alanna Safira Peralta Domingo.”
Alanna came through the doors on the other side of the room, her silver gown dazzling off the lights through the crack in the door, where Gemma waited anxiously. The queen climbed the few steps up the throne, and stood before the bejeweled seat.
With a nod to the guards, the doors on either side of the throne opened.
The bright lights blinded Gemma.
“Breathe,” André whispered. “Remember, I love you.”
The herald’s voice echoed throughout the hall once more. “Announcing His Royal Highness Prince André Miguel Peralta Domingo, and his wife, Her Royal Highness Princess Gemma.”
Chapter FOURTEEN
Alanna
Six Months Later
Solana’s Royal Cathedral was draped in light blue and gold sashes, and hydrangeas adorned every nook and cranny.
Even in December, the island’s weather remained warm and sunny. As if God smiled on their special day, promising a new era of peace and prosperity on the still recovering country.
Thousands of people lined the streets all along the path from the palace to the cathedral. Cheering and waving Solanian flags.
White roses and bouquets blanketed the roads, all thrown by adoring citizens.
Alanna stood by the window in the cathedral’s bridal room, waving to the crowds outside. A few attendants fluffed her train, and put the finishing touches on her braided hair, careful not to dislodge the jeweled crown.
Gold accents adorned the cream chiffon gown, a marvel to the fashion industry. Long drapes of golden lace fell from the sides of her sabrina neckline, and skimmed the blue liner under her feet. Her most favorite feature on the gown was when the ten foot long train was all bustled, it attached in a way that formed a gold star at her waist. For now, the heavy fabric trailed behind her as she moved through the room,
trying to get used to the weight.
A knock sounded.
“Pase.”
A royal guard stepped through, and announced Secretary Rangi.
The rail thin man stepped through, his tuxedo giving him an extra layer of thickness he desperately needed. “The Royal Historian’s office just dropped this off for you.” With a slight bow, he held out a letter.
Strange.
She took it. “Thank you. Is His Highness Prince André outside?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Waiting for your word.”
Her nerves settled a touch. She smiled and read the envelope. There was no return address or name, but she recognized that handwriting more than her own.
Her heart skipped, and then raced.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” she announced to the attendants in the room.
They all left, along with Rangi, after a final bow at the door.
Alanna opened the envelope, swallowing back the lump in her throat.
The letter was dated six years ago.
As she began to read, tears moved behind her eyes.
My darling daughter,
I have looked forward to this day from the moment you were born. In a few moments, I will walk you down the aisle to the man you will pledge to spend your life with. To the man who will pledge his life to you. As most fathers believe, I doubt there is any man walking this Earth who is truly worthy of your spirit. But that is the plight of all fathers, who see their daughters as angels, gracing us mere mortals with your divinity before returning to heaven…many years from now, God willing.
There are no words in any language we speak to convey how proud I am of you. Your strength, your courage, and your grace are a guiding light for us all. You are so much like your mother, in heart, beauty and temperament. I am certain she is with us today, looking from her heavenly pedestal, and wrapping you in her love.
You have always been a voice of reason in tumultuous times, even with one so young as you are now. My temper and obstinacy has often gotten the better of me over the years, especially surrounding the circumstances with your brother. You understand André so much better than Tulio and I ever have. Despite my anger and resentment, I believe there is still hope for him, as you so ardently counseled. Always keep your sensibilities, as well as a strong thirst for life. They will guide you well as you navigate this tempest called life.
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