BENCHED

by Abigail Graham

  "Fuck me instead. Fuck me right now."

  "No, not yet."

  I very, very gradually work my finger inside her as I stroke her lips with my tongue and lightly tease her clit, feeling her clench around me. I stroke her inside and out, reading her movements and gasps, driving her until she starts to pant, gasping for breath. She clutches herself, arms locked around her body as her thighs press on my head. I lift her a little from the bed and bury my face in her sex, holding her up with both hands on her ass as I grind my tongue on her.

  She jerks explosively and starts to coil up.

  I surge up through her legs and over her, pin her down, and thrust inside her in a single motion. Her eyes almost roll back in her head, her jaw half-open and quivering with ecstasy.

  It feels so fucking good I can barely stand it. I feel like I'm melting into her as she locks her legs around my hips and digs her nails into my back. The trickle I feel might be sweat or it might be blood. She pulls herself against me and I pin her into the mattress, our chests sliding against each other as we pant for breath, the air from her mouth tickling my nose until I kiss her.

  Ana pulses and throbs all around me. I keep my cock shoved in her to the root, feel her quivering, hot walls grip me. She lets out an agonized squeak of pleasure as I start to thrust, reaching deeper and deeper inside her. I go slowly at first, and pull back from her ravenous kisses to watch her face twist and strain with raw pleasure. God, she's so fucking sexy.

  "Come for me," I order her. "Come for me now, Ana."

  "Faster, please," she pleads. "Please, faster!"

  Instinct takes over. I grow wild, thrashing into her, and she writhes and scratches and nips at my shoulders, the smoldering look of raw lust in her eyes driving me on and on until I don't even think about holding back. I fuck her until I explode and keep going, my cock still painfully hard, each thrust an agony of pleasure as she tightens and tightens and tightens around me, her pussy gripping me as she arches against me and cries out, her whole body shaking as she turns red as a beet and squirms and whimpers and cries out again.

  I fuck her until we both go limp on the bed. I roll off her and let her breathe. She's so hot, literally radiating heat. I gather her in my arms and pull her back to my chest, and hold her until she stops shaking.

  Her eyes grow lidded. She wiggles her butt and feels that I'm still hard, turns around, and takes me in her grip. Using both hands, she strokes me until I shudder and explode all over her stomach.

  "That's two for one, not fair. I need to make you come again."

  She giggles. "No, it's two for three. I think. I lost count."

  "Oh."

  Her giggles turn into a gale of laughter. "I'm all sticky now."

  "Let's clean you up."

  I yank the door open and yell, "Stay out of the fucking hallway," then grab Ana and scoop her up in my arms and carry her across into the bathroom. I lock us in and turn the shower all the way up.

  Once steam begins to fill the room, I pull her inside the shower and yank the curtain shut. She ducks under the hot water and smiles, eyes closed, soaking it in. I grab a bar of soap and start lathering her up, savoring the feeling of her wet skin under my hands.

  There is some soaping, but it's more groping. She does the same for me. The soap drops onto the shower floor with a dull thud and my lips find hers, and we end up twisting around under the water, kissing and touching and squeezing. I try to get warm and give up when she starts shivering from the cold and pull her under the stream until the water gets cold too.

  I throw a towel around my waist and grab one of the huge bath blankets and throw it around her, bundling her up in it like a big terrycloth burrito. Then I carry her back to my bed.

  She sheds the towel quickly and lies naked on the bed.

  "I sleep naked," she informs me.

  "Good, so do I."

  I hear a voice from the hallway. I'm not sure which Thunder Brother it is. They're harder to tell apart when they're yelling.

  "Who used all the hot water?"

  I ignore him, wrap my naked princess in my arms, and bury my face in her damp hair. I can't remember ever being this happy. Ana just grins ear to ear, until her eyes grow lidded and she starts to doze off. I watch her fall asleep before I let myself drift off, hugging her tighter to my chest as I do.

  When I wake up, the first thing I hear is a playful "Let go."

  "No," I tell her and tighten my arms.

  "I have to pee," she blurts, and starts laughing.

  She finally gets me to let go of her by finding my ticklish spots, right below my navel. I roll over, and she hops up, grabs a long shirt and throws it on, and runs across the hall. The sight of her bare legs and the knowledge that her amazing ass is completely uncovered under the flouncing fabric make me start to harden again.

  I groan when I realize we're not alone in the house. I pull on some boxers and lounge pants and get up. What day of the week is this? I've lost track.

  There's going to be hell to pay. The entire football team missed a game and flew to a foreign country, for one thing. Also, after checking my phone, I learn that it's now Tuesday and I've skipped most of my classes, as has Ana.

  By the time we get dressed, with Ana wearing my sweat clothes instead of anything from her suitcases, all hell has broken loose. Dee has arrived and is in the kitchen with the Thunder Brothers, talking animatedly with them while they cook up a gigantic breakfast for five, which in their case means a breakfast for about sixty people.

  "Grandolf is in trouble," Dee sighs. "A lot of trouble."

  "Well, she should be." Aheahe shrugs. "Profs can't bang a student."

  "She didn't bang me," I growl.

  "We know. Calm down." Ana pets my arm in a soothing little gesture and hops up onto a barstool to eat.

  "She's probably going to get fired. Oh hey, the new morning edition of Royal Exposé is out."

  Ana and I both groan.

  "It's about you guys! Sort of."

  We all pull out our phones. I almost fall off my stool when I see the headline.

  THE PRINCESS'S PLAYER'S BEAU: I'M HAVING THE QUARTERBACK'S BABY!

  "I'm going to rip her uterus out," Ana says.

  "Wait, read the story."

  Ana glances up and huffs, looking down to her phone. I flip through it as she does, my eyes widening with every paragraph.

  "There's a picture of her with…." Ana says.

  I set my phone down on the counter so I don't crush it in my grip.

  Diana Grandolf has been sleeping with Ransom Kaye. Know how I know? Because after the story broke that sent Ana back home and me chasing after her, Ransom sent some selfies to the Expose. And forwarded them some texts. Selfies of him in bed with Grandolf, and texts from her proclaiming her undying love, and that she's pregnant with his kid.

  "Holy shit," Akele says, staring at his phone as he almost unconsciously flips pancakes, their undersides perfectly golden-browned. "He put videos on YouTube."

  "Oh, let me see," Aheahe booms, stomping over to look.

  A second later, Dee joins them.

  "I told you guys they were fake," she says excitedly. "They're not even good fakes!"

  "Can I save these?" Aheahe asks. "For research purposes."

  Akele glares at him.

  Ana starts laughing.

  "So," Akele says, "she said she was having sex with Jason and she lied, to a newspaper, and she's really boning the quarterback of our hated rival team, and she has fake boobs."

  "Yeah," Dee says. "Isn't this great? She is so fired."

  Well, there's that.

  I don't know what will happen with the football team, or the other things, but I'm eating pancakes with Anastasia Carolien Jacobina Katrien De Vries, Princess of Jyvaslka, Duchess of Karin.

  My fiancée.

  Ana's phone buzzes. She sighs.

  "It's Konstantin," she says. "He's excited to tell me he's putting in his college applications. He's coming to America."

  Sh
e groans.

  Bonus Epilogue: Ana’s Wedding

  1

  The Wedding

  Ana

  If I pace this floor any more, I'll wear a rut in it. I've been pacing so long my feet ache from walking on the stone. Oh, there's a carpet, but a rough-hewn stone floor is a rough-hewn stone floor. At least it's properly cold. I haven't truly been comfortable for months.

  Our graduation day was burning hot, in the upper nineties. I felt worse for Jason. At least I was permitted to wear a white gown and cap while Jason sweltered in dark blue, his face shining with sweat. On the other hand, I was desperate to cool off and he seemed unfazed, all grins. As we lined up to cross the stage and receive our degrees, we stole glances from each other at every possible moment.

  Despite all the cheers, loudest from my friends, I had butterflies in my stomach as I crossed the platform, shook the dean's hand, and received my sheepskin. Part of my life was closing and a new one was beginning.

  Mother's proclamation rang in my mind. I would marry. Jason would be my Prince Consort.

  Mother will step down. She will abdicate. That means…

  Queen Anastasia.

  I still shiver, thinking those words.

  So many things I will miss. Cheese steaks from Casapulla's market, trips to the mall with Jason, the beach and Fun Land, the parks, the hot air. So much to do, so much weight ready to settle on my shoulders. I can feel it coming like a storm, and when I look at myself in the mirror my shoulders seem so narrow it should all slip off.

  I barely recognize myself. I had hoped for a plain and simple wedding and a gown that would be elegant in its simplicity…

  Instead I stand in front of the mirror in a bodice of of creamy, frothy lace studded everywhere with real pearls, real diamonds, and real sapphires. I have yet to put on my veil but my hair is elaborately plaited under a hairnet set with rubies and emeralds, with ribons, lace, and jewels woven through my locks. A loose skirt falls to my ankles and my train is a good fifteen feet long. Outside there's a gaggle of young girls ready to carry it behind me.

  I feel like I'm going to throw up. I look absurd.

  After plucking at my lacy sleeves, I settle my veil on my head and let it fall over my face. The thin, gauzy veil doesn't do much for my vision. With the thin slippers on my feet, I'm going to be shuffling awkwardly trying not to fall until I get the damnable thing off my head.

  There's a knock at the door. It's an announcement, not a request for permission. Mother strides in, standing tall in a high-necked blue gown with her crown nestled in her hair, making her even taller. She says nothing at first, but fusses with my dress, plucking here and there, looking me over.

  "You look wonderful," she finally says.

  "Thank you," I reply, my voice flat.

  "Where's your anticipation?" she says.

  I sigh and shrug my shoulders.

  "This is what happens when the cow gives up the milk before the farmer buys," she says, a little snide hint to her voice.

  "You should talk," I bite back.

  She flinches, frowns for half a second, then gives me a thin, tight smile.

  "Just so," she sighs. "Think of it this way. A few hours of tedium and you'll be off on your honeymoon."

  "Then once I'm back, I take over."

  "Yes," she says. "At last."

  I sigh again. Loudly.

  "You must feel like I'm dumping the crown on you to get out from under it myself."

  She shrugs.

  "I am. I'm taking Thorlief on a world tour. This is all your problem now," she half-spins in place, indicating the world with her arms.

  "Thanks."

  She takes my hands.

  "What would you rather do, get married and take the throne, or bury me and take the throne?"

  I glance down. "You're right."

  She squeezes my hands.

  "I know I'm a frigid bitch. I'm trying. I will have fun today. I swear it. I might cop a feel when I dance with your boy."

  "My prince consort," I snap. "Keep your hands off him."

  Her face is a flat mask, until she cracks a smile and begins to giggle.

  I join her.

  "It's time. I need to be on the dais. You'll have plenty of escorts."

  I nod.

  She's right. This is no shotgun wedding, to borrow an American phrase. Everyone has turned out, and I mean everyone. The last time I looked out from the parapet I think I saw half the country camped out on the slopes outside the castle walls. They'll be watching the wedding on projectors set up in the tents, but I think the main draw is the dark bitter beer and sausages. This is going to be the biggest party the island has ever seen.

  It's time. There's a knock at the door and my maids flood the room. They're mostly distant cousins and relatives of the island nobility- the only person I actually know is my maid of honor, Dee.

  She grins at me.

  "You look amazing. Are those real jewels?"

  I huff.

  "Fine, fine, come on. Here comes the bride, do-doo-do-doo."

  I sneer at her and put on a big, false smile. Moving out of the room is a process of untangling my train. A half dozen girls between the ages of eight and twelve pick it up and carry it behind me. Dee hands me my bouquet, and off we go.

  This feels less like walking down a hallway and more like piloting a boat down a hallway. I have to move slowly so the children don't tear the cloth right off me. A half dozen more flower girls form a procession in front of me, dropping petals in my path, while I try desperately not to slip on them.

  The massive doors to the great hall swing open, and I almost stumble.

  Mother stands where my father one, with Thorlief hovering just over her shoulder in full dress uniform. Jason has no medals or adornments to wear, so they've dolled him up in a swallowtail coat, an inexplicable blue sash, and high boots. He looks mildly uncomfortable, like the laurels they have him wearing are scratching his forehead.

  Until he sees me and we lock eyes. Everything falls away and suddenly I have to force myself to move slower, almost dragging the poor procession of maids carrying my train up the aisle as the orchestra takes up a booming march.

  Akele and Aheahe have taken on double duty as co-best-men. They nod approvingly at me as I take the steps up to the dais where the minister is waiting to officiate the ceremony.

  It all becomes a blur. I stare at Jason and he stares at me, each of us so intent on the other that he has to be jabbed in the back to turn around and accept my ring from Akele.

  He gently lifts my hand and slides the ring in place, caressing my palm before he takes it away. His hands brush my cheeks as he pulls the veil back. The minister has barely finished the words kiss the bride before our lips are locked, and I have to give Jason a little push before the kiss becomes a tad inappropriate. Not that I mind.

  Then the part that has my stomach doing backflips comes. Mother steps forward and loudly declares she is surrendering the crown, and lifts it from her head, passing it to the minister.

  I kneel. It's a quick affair, the crown replacing my hairnet after I say a few words. I stand up with the weight of it already making my neck a little achy.

  Jason leans in and whispers, "You look amazing with that on."

  I grin.

  I have a feeling I will be hearing that a lot today.

  When the entire room bows and curtsies to me, it's like cold water pouring over my head. Akele and Aheahe manage theatrical dips, throwing their arms out to the side like masters of ceremonies. Jason is more reserved, taking a knee in front of me. The only ones on their feet are my family.

  I do my best not to turn beet red.

  It's done, finally. Jason stands and takes my arm, and the girls run up to remove the pins from my train and remove it so I can walk freely.

  The main reception is held in the throne room. The rest of the castle is full of revelers, so many one room won't hold them all. I can see Thorlief fretting in his new position as head of the royal guard
, unsure whether to worry himself sick over me, or my mother. She gives him amused looks, her expression so soft I can barely recognize her when she looks at him.

  Jason grins through it all. I cling to his side as we take our places at the high table. Mother sits at my side, stiffly. Thorlief stands behind her. I huff as he folds his big arms. I'm sure he'd prefer to take that position, but he should be sitting at the table with us. I grow so weary of these stuffy traditions.

  First I have to endure the gifts. Almost none of it is actually intended for me. The noble families bring baubles and trinkets that will go in trophy cases in the castle. I'd rather they took the money they spent on all these worthless gubbins and put it towards feeding the hungry, if not at home, then abroad.

  I have plans, but they will have to wait.

  Once the gifts have been piled up on another table, the toasts begin. Interminable toasts that take an hour. I smile and nod while people I barely know express my virtues. Jason visibly struggles not to yawn.

  Finally it's time to dance.

  I take the open floor with Jason while the orchestra plays a waltz. We've been practicing for weeks, but I can tell he's nervous still. Hopefully no one will notice that I'm leading.

  The first few moments are tense, but this close to each other, it becomes easy to forget the rest of the world.

  Propriety demands we dance very formally and stiffly, our bodies at a forearm's length from each other.

  To hell with propriety. I tired of that and step in to lean on his chest. He finally figures out how to lead. I close my eyes and feel him breathe.

  The dance floor fills with other couples. Mother taps my shoulder.

  I sigh as she steps into Jason's arms. He looks to me for guidance and perhaps sympathy as they stiffly dance, Mother scowling at him the entire time.