by Cherise West
Maybe he’s considering what to do, now that it’s out there, and there’s a good chance he might have been guilty of treason for falling in love with me.
Prince Estefan and I enter and immediately he goes to Katrana and I’s kitchen table, silent as he pulls the chair out and sits, chin in his palms. I stroll awkwardly behind him, placing a hand softly on his shoulder.
“Do you want me to get you something… anything?” I ask, my voice quivering in quiet anxiety.
“No, no, I’m fine,” he says, a forced smile on his lips. I can tell he’s trying his hardest to ease my caution, but nothing would succeed at this point - I worry for him, and for myself.
“Hey, it’s about time you got home, the guys at the mar—” Katrana’s door swings open; she rambles at me with her nightgown hung across her body, until she sees the prince sitting in our breakfast nook. She blinks twice; the shock causes her lips to gape wide open. “Y-your majesty,” she stutters, swallowing hard. “I… I didn’t know… if it pleases his royal gorgeousness,” she giggles, “I’m… what do you do to honor me with this visit?” she blinks. “Oh, and her,” she nods in my direction; I roll my eyes.
“He’s here because of me,” I mutter.
“Because of you? What’d you do?” Katrana sneers, her voice accusing. “Did you screw the royal house out of money at the market? Are you going to get all of us hanged, Erica?!”
“Shut up, Katrana,” I murmur, face criss-crossed in anger. “The prince is here be…” I choose my words carefully. “…because he needs a safe place to think. Somewhere outside of the castle.”
“…And he just… picked our apartment?” she mumbles, dumbfounded. I glare.
“No, the prince and… look, it’s just none of your business,” I exhale sharply. “Don’t you and Bertrand have something planned for today? Or were you just going to loaf around the house?”
“Well excuse me,” Katrana rumbles, moving closer to the table. She does that foxy hip-swaying walk I know she loves to do, and my ire raises. “Excuse me if I’m not more than just a little surprised to see the prince of all Velune here, in my kitchen, looking gorgeous, and tormented,” she murmurs, her voice all whispery and smoky. “Maybe he needs something? Did you even ask him? Please, Prince Estefan, forgive my rude sister Erica,” Katrana hums seductively. “Can I get you anything from the kitchen? I do mix a pretty… delectable cocktail,” she murmurs, grinning and giggling.
“Katrana,” I hiss, “leave the prince alone. He’s not here for you and your cheap come-ons.”
“Cheap come-ons? Excuse you?” Katrana huffs. “I just offered the prince a drink.”
“No, really, I’m fine,” Estefan insists, his voice quavering with uncertainty. Worry streaks across my face.
“Estefan, please, let’s—” I try to speak.
“Pri…” he clears his throat. “…Erica, please. I need time to think.”
“What’s going on? Who’s that guy in the kitchen? Who is he?” I sigh, shoulders slumping; somebody else here to irritate the prince and I. It’s Bertrand, rushing out of Katrana’s bedroom, his face worried. He sees Estefan… and he sees how close I am, to the prince. He makes the connection almost immediatey, and angered jealousy instantly cracks like lightning onto Bertrand’s features. “What’s he doing here? Is he— he’s the guy who bought you that gown I saw, isn’t it? Some rich, powerful noble? Is he the one who took you on that date, Erica?”
“Bertrand!” I hiss, putting my finger to my lips.
“Ahah, what? This is the prince of Velune, Bertrand. You think he took my sister out on a date?” Katrana laughs haughtily.
“Why were you flirting with him?” Bertrand growls; Estefan just sits, watching the drama unfold with unmoving features. I try to silently sympathize with him, but he has difficulty bringing his eyes to meet mine and it hurts deep every time he moves his gaze away.
“Fl— flirting, what?” Katrana laughs obnoxiously. “I was just offering the prince a drink. That’s what common manners say you do, when the prince of Velune is in your house,” she snarls, trying to motion for Bertrand to leave so she can… well, keep flirting, I guess. I sigh anxiously. This is what I’ve dragged Estefan in to.
“Katrana—” I beg.
“Erica,” she insists.
“Erica,” Bertrand interjects. “I just want to know if—”
“Your highness,” Katrana bows.
“Your highness? What, are you sleeping with him too?” Bertrand grunts bitterly.
“Excuse you?!” Katrana shouts.
“Erica,” Bertrand grumbles defensively, “tell her I know about—”
“Enough!” I shout with finality. Estefan sits in amused quiet, watching me. “Enough,” I repeat, silencing the both of them. “Katrana, Bertrand, take your relationship issues out of the kitchen right now. Leave the prince to think,” I exhale deeply. “Estefan…” I murmur, my voice weak. “…you have my permission to slap these two if they bother you again. I’m…” I shake my head. “I’m… just going to go take a shower, I guess,” I say, flustered. “Estefan, I…”
“Just… give me a minute, to think about this,” he says, shoulders slumping, his eyes watching the rain spattering against the window. Head hung with a frown, I glare at Katrana and Bertrand, stuck in stunned silence in the doorway, as I push past, down the hall and up the stairs to the bathroom at the landing to the second floor. Spacious and tiled, it’s maybe the nicest room in all of our crappy apartment - with an actual vanity, running water, a broad bathtub and a steamy shower. I crack the vent-windows at the top of the walls to let the heat of the shower escape; sighing weakly as I turn the water on and let it run until it gets hot.
A mirror on the wall throws my reflection back at me. I frown. I like the way I look. I like who I am. But at the same time, I hate myself. I hate myself for lying to Estefan. I hate the way my hips bubble out; the mud smeared on my messy face and the freckles beneath. Maybe Katrana was right. I feel like one step under the hot water will drag me out of another dream - that all these weeks, these hot liaisons with the gorgeous prince, his want to pump me hot with seed and fill me with his royal heir… it’s all just been a dream. Reality is going to hit me hard on a cold morning - and I’ll be stuck with that cheating bastard the Duke, in a life that I could only ever want to escape.
I unclip the buttons on my linen gown - the dirty thing I wore when I ran from Katrana’s birthday, away to the prince’s keep - letting it slide down my shoulders, falling into a heap at my feet, my nude body quivering, my tangle of honey-blonde hair wild and unruly. I look at my self in the mirror again - perky young breasts, full, pretty; my skin the color of pale amber, touched with a ruddiness by the sun. I frown, my eyes downcast. I can’t stand to look at myself. I guess Estefan is right to be angry at me.
Knock knock knock. I hear a fist against the door over the soft sound of gushing water from the showerhead, my shoulders falling into an annoyed sigh.
“Go away, Bertrand,” I grumble. “I’m taking a shower.” I kick my dress away and pull the shower curtain aside, letting a few flecks of water spackle against my face as I close my eyes.
Knock knock. My eyes flash open, full of irritation.
“Go away Bertrand, and don’t you dare open that door—” I hear the mechanism turning, the door swinging open; I yelp, grabbing the curtain and wrapping it around my body. “Bertrand, damn y—”
It’s not Bertrand being a rotten pervert again. Estefan stands, his face determined; his figure tall, powerful, as sexy as ever, wrapped in his royal regalia - a white jacket trimmed in gold, gilded badges of valor hanging from his chest, crimson pauldrons on his shoulders.
“E-Este… listen, I’m sorry, I thought…”
“Does that annoyance Bertrand actually barge in on you while you’re washing?” he lifts a brow.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I grumble, my stomach churning, my cheeks bright-red.
“Listen, Erica,” he implores, his voice
serious; the tone makes my stomach start to spin. He strides into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him. “…there’s a lot I want to know about you.”
“I’m… please, Estefan, when… when I told you…”
“You told me you were a princess,” he says. “…why did you lie to me? Did… did you think I wouldn’t love you if you weren’t a princess?”
“No, I didn’t mean to hurt you, Estefan, that’s…” I swallow hard. “I… I didn’t tell you because I… I guess I knew, that if you knew I was a commoner… this would all be over.”
“Why did you think I would stop wanting you? Over that?” he queries, stepping across the tiles towards me; I recoil, fear rushing down my veins. I’m dumbfounded.
“Estefan… you…” I stammer. “I… I thought it would be over because you’re a prince, and I’m… I’m just a merchant girl. Your family would disown you - and… like Louella said. It’d be treason… throwing the royal line into question by having heirs with a commoner. You’d be forsaking your future, the law, tradition, everything… for me.”
“And you don’t think I’d do that?” he breathes out, dusky, as the steam clings to the mirror from the hot running water. In a moment he’s upon me, his body pressing me against the tile-paneled wall; I feel his strong muscles ripple beneath his adornments, his legs pressed tight to my waist, his bulge stiffening against my naked body; just the slightest breath of one another gets us both so fucking hot.
“I… I didn’t… expect that… that you would,” I murmur, my voice weak; confused. I can’t believe he would throw everything - his kingdom, his family, his wealth, all of it - away, for me. He proves me wrong by crushing his lips against mine, steam forming a soft dew on his skin, the heat absolutely steaming me to my core. I swallow hard, my eyes rolling back in my head, because feeling him kiss me so hard feels so perfect.
“You didn’t expect that I would? What do you think I am? A monster?” he breathes deep against my lips. “Did you think I didn’t… that I didn’t have my suspicions, that night, at the ball? At the auction? I saw you wearing my sister’s old gown,” he chuckled against my lips, “and I knew you had to have bluffed your way in. Perhaps… I went along with the ploy, myself, the sweet deception,” he muses, smiling pleasantly. “Maybe… but fuck the laws, fuck the ‘tradition’, and fuck anyone who disagrees,” he groans roughly. “…Including you, if you try to get in the way of me having you - as my bride, as my princess, bearing my heir,” he growls, pressing his hard bulge tight against my thick, hungry thighs.
“You know… I came in here to try to get clean,” I joke tantalizingly, kissing his cheek in a slow, steady series of adoring smacks. “Not to get even more dirty… you had me sweating and moaning and swallowing your messy cum and taking it all over my body all night last night… and this morning, too, if you remember correctly,” I chuckle lewdly.
“What better way to do away with all the mess… than sweating it out together in the shower?” he croons into my ear.
“Do I have a choice in the matter?” I tease, running my tongue along his chin.
“Of course you do. You always do,” he purrs, his palms rolling along my flanks, before he roughly grabs my hips, squeezes them, and pistons his bulge hard against my pouting feminine petals, a shockwave rocking down my spine while I inhale fast and hard. “…But do you really want one?”
“No,” I admit, my breath nothing but hissing steam. “No, I don’t, ever, because when you touch me there can only be one answer,” my voice cracks. He kisses me and before the room even stops spinning from the passion in my blood he’s unbuttoning his jacket, throwing the cord and pauldron assembly away, the bristles landing near the door, the thick white jacket and all its medals jingling as it falls off of his shoulders.
My god, the prince of Velune - hot, rich, irresistible, filthy - is getting undressed, in my fucking bathroom. It makes me a second to even process that, and before I do, he’s grabbing my waist and pushing me into the shower, water streaming down my honey-blonde hair. I get to watch, my breath quaking, my body shaking in hunger beneath rolling waves of hot water, as Estefan unzips his slacks and slowly tugs them down his hips, so agonizingly slow, so slow I can wantingly trace every curve and cut of his rock-hard abs, his taut pelvic muscles; his broad chest, his powerful arms. When I see his cock spring free of his pants, I practically melt right there in front of him. He steps out of his pants, one leg and then the other, a smirk brimming on his lips.
“Were you waiting for me?…” he teases, tongue whipping across his lips.
“Please, master, not for much longer,” I beg.
“Lying to me… indulging me in this dangerous little game we’ve been dancing together, Princess Erica… I should punish you,” he hums, stepping into the shower with me, water cresting over every lean muscle and over his handsome skin. He pushes me hard against the tile, a gasp lifted from my lungs by the force.
“Estefan!” I quake, my words as full of surprise as they are of lust.
“I don’t need to punish you now, for being a brat,” he smirks, nibbling at my lips, “because soon… I’ll have a whole lifetime to punish you… won’t I?”
“Yes,” I cry out, my voice getting louder, and louder, and louder each time, “yes… yes, yes, god YES, Estefan, every single night,” I plead, while his hands roll down my sides, taunt my flesh; he nibbles at one of my perky nipples, mauling the other with strong hands, making me his break down into his quivering fucktoy any time he moans those perfect words and taunts me with his teeth and his fingers and his dirty, dirty growls.
“Be careful, you might upset your sister and her boyfriend,” he chuckles darkly into my ear while his kisses leave me as hot and reddened as his bites and his kisses.
“Fuck them, fuck everything, Estefan,” I murmur, so taken with the passion burning in my blood for him that I can’t even think about what I’m saying, but god do I mean every single word. His fingers part my steamy folds and two of them plunge into my cunt and I can’t stop myself. “Fuck everything that isn’t us, right now, so fucking in lust and in love,” I moan, burying my face with a blushing whimper into his neck, those little whimpers getting louder and louder, clawing their way out of my throat as he pumps his fingers deeper and harder into me, his thumb flicking and working my clit with exceptional speed and skill while the water soaks us both and the steam fills our lungs.
“With an attitude like that, you’ll make a perfect addition to any royal court,” he moans, pushing me against the back wall of the shower, the water streaming across our backs together. “And you’ll fit just as well in my royal bedchamber, where I’d keep you chained away forever if it meant I got to feel this body of yours every single fucking night.”
“Please, I’m yours,” my words melt away like the hot water rippling along my curvaceous ass, which stings when I feel his powerful hand slap it hard. His cockhead teases against my tight little round asshole, giving me a strong quiver along every vein, before I feel him slather his wet shaft against the inside of my thighs, my mind on absolute fire. Over the shrill screech of the showerhead, I hear my own heart pumping wildly in my chest, practically wanting to leap out of my ribcage from how good he makes me feel.
“You’re mine? To make me plaything, to pump hot and wanting full of my steamy seed, and to impregnate with my rightful, perfect heir? To have forever? To make you my real princess?” He growls into my ear, while his cock teases my folds.
“Everything, please, I want to be your princess-kitten again,” I beg, the water not feeling nearly as hot as we are together.
“You always have been,” he moans into my ear, his cocktip teasing against me. Both hands roughly grasping my ass, squeezing until his handprints burn bright against my thick flesh, he thrusts hard inside of me, rivulets of water streaming hot over us as he penetrates me deep, stretching me wide again the way I want. I cry out in a voice that sends shudders through the windows of our apartment, nearly shattering the glass with how muc
h I want him.
“Estefan! God, please, don’t stop,” I shrilly cry, reaching back and massaging those sexy abs of his as they press to my back and he fucks me like a starved and filthy animal. I feel him pump in and out, his stiff shaft spasming inside of me while I hold on to the wall to keep my balance, my legs shaking intensely while hot shower water courses down and massages my knotted muscles.
“I’d never… stop, ng,” he grunts, his words broken up hotly by the sounds of his grunts and moans. “I’m so fucking addicted to you now, Erica,” he hisses through gritted teeth, “my dirty princess-kitten makes my body do things I didn’t even know it could.” He pumps and pumps deeper inside of me, his reddened cocktip spreading me wide and slamming against my insides and lighting my nerves up like red-hot embers, full of passion. My soaked hair collects in a thick swathe along my back and the few glimpses I can catch of his strong body behind me flash full of delight; his eyes glassy, his muscles shaking with how good it feels to be fucking his obedient, naughty young princess again.
“Cum inside of me,” I beg him in lewd moans. I push my hips back against him, water sloshing over our bodies as my ass bounces against his pelvis, our skin slap-slap-slapping loudly together as our sexual motions grow more and more intense. “I want you to cum inside of me, and fill me with your hot seed, please,” I groan, milking him hard. Our legs shake together and the steam gets hotter; it gets harder and harder to breathe, lungs quivering, which just makes those bursts of feelings he gives me even more intense, so intense my eyes blur and my ears hear only the beat of our hearts and my senses spin like a top.
“Fuck, fuck,” he groans, his body shaking, his muscles shuddering and lurching. He moans an explosive sound and pistons harder and deeper inside of me, stretching me wide; I’m screaming for him, screaming loudly, like I’ve never screamed for a man before; every time with Estefan feels a thousand times better than the last. “I’m… FUCK I’m going to cum,” he growls loud and animalistic, squeezing onto my ass for dear life, his hands stinging their pressure into my milky-white flesh, skin blushing from the heat of the shower and the heat of our lewd love.