by Frankie Love
“Friends? They would never come here.”
“What do you mean?” I take a sip of the beer I’m offered.
Garrick downs his stein. “I hang out with some guys that meet at a pub on Friday nights. Kurt, the owner, is one of the best men in the village.”
“One of your best friends is a bartender?” I ask, unable to hide my surprise.
“What? It shocks you that I don’t like to perform in this show with these clowns?”
“Clowns meaning the royal dignitaries in attendance?”
“Exactly.” His eyes roam the room, then settle on me. “You like this bullshit?”
“I like being a part of something happy, something not depressing and bankrupt.”
“Is it always about money with you?”
I pull back, surprised at his question. “No,” I laugh. “I don’t care about money. I don’t need fancy parties every day to be happy.”
“What do you need?” he asks, grabbing another beer from a waiter who passes by.
“I need ... a chance to experience. More. Anything. Life.”
A smile plays across Garrick’s face.
“What?” I ask, not knowing him remotely well enough to know what his looks mean.
He leans down, whispering in my ear again. People are all around us, but time seems to still. My body leans into his, and I want to feel his warm breath on my ear again. “I can give you an experience, wife.”
I stifle a moan, not wanting to admit to the thrill his words give me. I press my thighs together, suddenly hot and anxious.
Just then the king clinks his silver against a goblet, announcing that it’s time to cut the cake.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Garrick asks no one in particular, but I know that plenty hear him. Eyes narrow, and heads shake.
“Garrick, don’t make a scene,” I ask, tugging on his shirtsleeve. “Please.”
He smiles, leaning back to my ear. “Say pretty please, Princess. I want to hear you beg.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. The fact that he has such a dark exterior, but thinks such hot things, makes my pussy wet.
Ready.
Willing.
I take his hand; the current passes between us again. Electric. Looking up at him, with all eyes on us, I say, “Pretty please, husband.”
He inhales through his nose, his jaw set. Desire is written across his face.
He leads me to the center of the room, and someone puts a knife in his hand. A camera flashes as he slices the cake, and he’s clearly not amused. He gets frosting on his thumb as he cuts a piece.
I lean close to him, my hand on his chest. “Let me lick that off.” I take his hand, lifting his thumb to my lips, sucking off the white frosting.
He shakes his head and whispers, “You’re killing me, Princess.”
“I think you’re supposed to shove that in my mouth now,” I tell him, smiling.
“Oh, I’ll shove something in your mouth.”
I laugh, slightly shocked and more than a little amused. “You are a naughty prince.”
“And you, Princess? Are you naughty?” He raises an eyebrow and I know just how to answer.
“Oh, I’m very naughty.” Smirking, I take the slice of cake and press it to his face. And just like in the movies, the crowd cheers, clapping for us.
He doesn’t hesitate. He pulls me to him and kisses me. My mouth is filled with sugary frosting, and then his hot tongue.
He kisses me hard, not like at the wedding chapel. He kisses me like he’s claiming me. Like I’m already his.
When we pull apart, I catch his mother’s eye. She’s beaming, holding the King’s hand, nodding at me like I did exactly what she wanted.
Whatever Garrick and I just did was the right move. They want their son to be seen in a positive light, and this is the best PR they could hope for.
Meeting Garrick’s eyes, I realize we’re both a mess from the smashed cake. We try to wipe our faces with a cloth napkin, but it doesn’t get us properly clean. He takes my hand and says, “Let’s get you washed up.”
I swallow, knowing that right now I will follow him anywhere.
8
Do I want to be at this fucking reception? Hell, no. But right now I’m not at the reception.
Right now, I’m leading Iris upstairs in the castle I grew up in. Right now, I’m taking her to my childhood bedroom with plans to make her a woman.
“Is it okay for us to just leave?” she asks, as I pull her to the landing on the top of the stairs.
“I’m a prince. I don’t ask permission.” I pull at her waist, bringing her to me. I’m ready to rip this dress off her, to take those tits in my mouth, to spread her legs and fill her with my seed. I married her to give my family an heir, but that doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy giving her my cock.
And it certainly doesn’t mean she shouldn’t enjoy it, either.
Her chin is tilted, her lips full and ready to be kissed, her back arched, asking for me to pull her closer.
“Good,” she tells me. “I don’t want you to ask. I want you to take what’s yours.”
Maybe it’s the beer going to my head, or maybe it’s the curve of her ass under the palm of my hand. Maybe it’s the dark landing, and the darker hallway. I don’t know what it is, but it all adds up to needing her now.
I pull her into the room at the end of the hall, shut the door, press her against it. My hands are on her dress, shimmying it over her bare thighs. Over her head it goes, and I toss it to the floor.
Pushing down her panties, she steps out of them, leaving her bare pussy exposed and so fucking tender, so fucking needy.
I lift her leg, and wrap it around my waist, effortlessly. I need more of her.
“Is this really happening?” Her hands run through her hair, and I pull the lace of her bra cup down, letting my mouth fill with her tight little nipple. I slap her ass, and then I growl.
Hungry. Wanting.
“This is happening, Princess. It’s time you took my royal cock.”
She moans, her hands in her hair. “Good. I want it. Don’t make me wait.”
Her tight pussy is pressed against me, and she unbuckles my pants, dropping them to the floor.
“You don’t want your first time to be nice and slow?” I ask her. My thick cock is pressed against her ass, and my finger finds her clit. This princess is so nice and tight, but damn, she’s slick as fuck; her little cunt is dripping with desire. “Oh, you’re so nice and wet.”
“For you.” Her eyes lock on mine. I know this is not some match made in heaven—she and I are opposites, and damn, my wife doesn’t even realize just how opposite we are. But right now our bodies are in sync. Our bodies are connected, and my cock is aching to fill her up, just like she asked for.
“I know you like games, playing with words,” I rumble in her ear. “But this is no game.”
“You’re right,” she moans, her clit throbbing the same way my cock is. “But then what would you call it?”
Against the door, her back arches again. I press the tip of my cock against her entrance, easing myself into her, inch by inch, as she wraps her hands around my neck, pulling my mouth to hers.
“I call this your fucking wedding night.” I let her pussy drop onto my cock, filling her hard and fast, because a spitfire girl like her needs to be left speechless sometimes.
I kiss her, hard, her mouth melting against mine. My cock plunges into her tightness. I’m not going to take things slow. Not right now, not this time.
Her mouth is as sweet as the fucking frosting on our wedding cake. Her lips are soft against mine, and I’m reminded of just how many ways we’re opposing forces. Her sweet to my bitter, her soft to my hard. Her smiles to my frown.
Then I squeeze her round ass, my fingers grazing the crack, and thrust into her cunt until she’s whimpering in my mouth.
“Garrick, don’t stop. Don’t ever—” Then she stops speaking, because all that’s left is slow moans of pleasure erupti
ng across her core, her center. She’s no longer a virginal princess; I carried her pussy across the threshold and made her my queen.
I come in her hard and fast, my cock releasing seed with the power to fill her womb. I kiss her deeply as I finish, wanting her to know that my body made promises to her tonight.
Her body is mine and mine is hers.
I set her down as she’s catching her breath. Her bra is pulled down so her massive tits are exposed.
“Next time I fuck you, I’m going to come all over those,” I tell her, taking them in my hands, my cock already hard again.
“Take me again, then,” she says. “I don’t want to wait. Take me in your bed.” Her eyes dart over my shoulder.
“Oh,” I tell her. “That’s not my bed.”
“What do you mean?”
“I grew up here, but it’s not my home. Not anymore.”
Her eyes narrow, confused. “Where do you live, then? If not at the castle?”
“I live in the woods.”
Puzzled, she tilts her head to the side. She thought this was her new home.
But she’s in for a fucking wake-up call, because my cabin is no fucking palace.
9
He doesn’t live here?
“Wait a second ... where do you live then?” I ask, reaching for my panties, suddenly feeling exposed.
“I live outside of town. In the woods.”
“In the woods,” I repeat, trying to understand.
He doesn’t give me any more. His mouth is set in a hard line, and the endorphins from our sex-frenzy seem to be fading. He pulls up his pants.
“I want to go. This cake is still on my face,” I say. “And I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” I grab my dress, slip it on over my head.
“You don’t want to stay at the reception any longer?” he asks, running his hand over his scruffy beard.
“No. I’m going to use the restroom, and then let’s just call it a day, okay?”
He nods, and I use the en suite bathroom. Running cool water, I splash it on my face. I look in the mirror, trying to see if I look any different, now that I’ve been filled with a man.
Maybe it’s terribly naive, but as I dry my face with a towel I can’t help but think I do look different. At least I feel different. I feel more whole, even though so much has been taken from me. My family, my home, my freaking virginity.
They don’t feel like loses though.
Being here feels like a gain.
I just wish Garrick made more sense. He’s impossible to read. He swerves from intense heat to intense cold with the flip of a switch.
And I’m apprehensive about this house of his in the woods. I don’t need a castle, but being here tonight ... I’d be lying if I said I don’t want it. It’s decadent, yet warm. No one is trying to prove anything, and no one is pinching pennies to make ends meet, either. Garrick’s parents seem comfortable in their own skin.
It’s Garrick that seems to be fighting something.
I turn off the faucet. Exhale. Tonight, I don’t want to fight anymore.
Tonight, I just want to see my new home.
Garrick’s parents kiss us goodbye, seeming to know they’ve pushed their luck with their son. Quickly enough, Garrick and I leave the castle grounds with zero fanfare, slipping away into the dark night.
Before I can mention being cold, Garrick wraps his arm around me, that warmth of his returning. The temperature has dropped considerably since this afternoon, and my sheer dress and his flannel shirt are no match for this cool fall weather.
We walk in silence, my eyes alert as we pass through the village and head toward the other side of the square. Toward the forest.
“Is it a long walk?”
“Less than a mile,” he says, not offering any more. Soon enough, we’re cresting a hill. Down a path through the trees, I see a simple, rustic cabin.
Not like a luxury cabin; more like a shack.
I brace myself for the interior, hoping that it at least matches the interior of the castle.
The castle, though an old building, still had leather chairs and couches, a sitting room and a massive hall where the meal was served. There was a library, and a hall filled with portraits.
But if the outside of this cabin is any indication of what lies ahead, I shouldn’t get my hopes up.
“Home sweet home,” he tells me.
“Right, home sweet home,” I say tightly as he pushes open the front door. Well, the only door. Because we’re in a one-room cabin.
“This is your house?”
“No, Iris. This is our house.”
At that, my knees go weak and the confident exterior I so desperately want to cling to fades away. As does the night.
I faint, not even knowing if someone’s catching me.
My eyes open. I’m lying in bed; the room is dark save for a hurricane lantern on a bedside table casting a soft glow over the room.
I blink, remembering where I am and how I got here. This morning, when I left my sister and my father, seems so very long ago. In a chair, watching me, is Garrick. His arms rest on his knees and he leans toward me, staring intently.
“Fuck, woman,” Garrick sighs. “Talk about a grand entrance.”
“I take it you carried me over the threshold?” I say, smiling softly. I fainted before I even took two steps inside. The reality of this being my home is just a little bit more than my knees could handle at the end of this long day.
But now, looking at Garrick—his dark eyes and his strong jaw and his broad shoulders—things look a little more appealing than at first glance.
Suddenly, the warm cabin feels intimate and romantic; I’m lying on a bed in a lacy sundress next to the man who is my husband.
It doesn’t seem as terrible as I made it out to be in my head, when I first took a peek inside.
Maybe it isn’t terrible at all.
Maybe it’s just right.
“Princess, you scared me half to death.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed a man like you would scare easily.”
“A man like me, huh?” Garrick leans closer, close enough for me to feel his warm breath. “What do you know about a man like me?”
“I’m guessing I know as much about you as you know about me.”
“Oh, I know plenty about you.”
“Garrick, you’re so sure of yourself.” I shake my head, not letting him get away with thinking he knows best.
“It’s true, Iris. I know what you’re thinking right now. About what happens next.” He looks down at his cock, stiff in his jeans, and I admit that being in his bed—our bed—reminds me of what he told me he wanted to do, back in his childhood bedroom.
What he wanted to do to me.
On me.
I take a sharp breath, because the moment I opened my eyes I forgot about the reason I fainted.
“Why don’t you live in the castle?” I ask.
“Does it bother you, being alone in the woods with a mountain Prince?”
I roll my eyes, sitting up in bed. “I’m not scared of you. And right now, I honestly don’t care where we are tonight. I just want to....” I bite my lip, shocked at my desire.
I just fainted, but my body has quickly reminded me what it really wants right now: to be with Garrick again.
“Good, then I’m going to take your word for it.”
“I liked what we did in the castle. When you took control.”
His eyes are bright in the lamplight. “I can take control again, Princess.”
“That’s what I want,” I admit. “But what you said you wanted to do ... on me....” I run my hands over my breasts, thinking about how he said he wanted to spill his seed on them. “I need you to show me. How you want it. I need you to teach me.” My voice gets smaller then maybe it ever has before. Talking so intimately with a man I hardly know requires a bravery I’m not used to. But saying the words empowers me.
“Oh, I’ll teach you, honey. I’ll teach you right
now.” Garrick leans over, kissing me hotly, kissing me with fire. Leaving me gasping for breath. His mouth covers mine and his tongue slips between my teeth, intertwined with mine. He kisses me long and hard and good.
My core is on fire, in a way I wasn’t expecting, as his hand lifts my dress, his fingers grazing past my thighs.
“I need to get you out of this,” he growls. “I need to see all of you.”
Understanding his request, I get out of the bed and lift the dress over my head, dropping it to the floor. He must have taken off my sandals earlier when he carried me to bed, because all I’m wearing is a pair of silky white panties and a lacy white bra.
“My God, Princess, you’re killing me.” His eyes look greedy from where he sits. I step toward him, and he wraps his arms around my waist, inhaling my pussy. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Iris. I am going to devour you tonight, you know that, right?”
“Then you’ll have to help me out of my panties first, Garrick. Help me become your woman for a second time.”
10
The moment her eyes fluttered open, I let out a sigh of relief. The last thing I wanted was to have my bride gone before our wedding night. I knew the moment she saw the cabin she’d be having second or third or fourth thoughts about this entire situation. About our arrangement.
About this marriage.
I’d seen the way she looked around my parents’ castle. The way she took in the party they offered her, showing her every decadent thing they could offer, as if wanting her to see what she was missing before she came out here with me.
In this cabin, there’s no need for fake grins or small talk. She may be from a place of summer breezes and soft smiles, but there’s no space for that here.
But when I took her hard and fast, the way we both wanted, something changed. Damn, I looked at her, so fucking pure and innocent, and wondered if bringing her out here was the right call.
When she fainted I was fucking sure it wasn’t.
But then, as I watched her rest, I thought about it.