by Alexis Angel
Table of Contents
The King's Secret Bride
Also By Naughty Angel Publishing
Dedication
Description
Table of Contents Instructions
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
The King's Virgin Bride
Author’s Note
Princely Passions
Executive Engagement
Boxers and Briefs
Three Beasts
The King's Secret Bride
A Royal Wedding Novella
By Alexis Angel & Daphne Dawn
Copyright 2018 by Naughty Angel Publishing
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.
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Also By Naughty Angel Publishing
Abby Angel
Men of the House
Woman of the House
Mergers & Acquisitions
Profit & Lace
Boxers & Briefs
Secrets & Silk
Goldicox
Harem
Show & Sell
Alexis Angel
Jailbait
Red & Blue
Wicked Lil Brat
Python
Men of the House
12 inches
Woman of the House
The Virgin Market
DILF
Dirty Daddy
Gambling For The Virgin
Mr. President
Profit & Lace
Stories From The 6 Train
24 Inches
100 Days
Cindersmellya
The Biggest Licker
Lust Muscle
Princely Passions
Offense & Defense
Blessed
Head Hunter
Single TV Dad
Brittney vs. Banker
Cunning Linguist
36 Inches
Dirty Darcy
Kim vs. Stepbrother
Protein Shake
Executive Engagement
Boardroom Bride
Dark Angel
The Virgin Market
Gambling For The Virgin
Buyer’s Market
Hostile Work Environment
Murder/Love
Three Beasts
Seven Deadly Sinners
Overtime
12 Days
10 Commandments
Overworked
Captive Bride
Dedication
To Ashleigh
Description
I'm the bad boy king.
Infamous the world over.
And now my family tells me this.
The only way to fix my image,
Is to find a queen…
The minute Vivienne walks in, I want her.
My new PR rep. Says she's going to clean me up.
Well, I know exactly what she can clean up.
Because things are about to get filthy.
I'm going to make her squirm.
Give her a taste of what she wants.
Then make her beg for more.
Until we get caught. With me on my knees.
But this sassy little thing has a solution.
Puts quite the spin on it.
What I don't expect?
A surprise I never saw coming…
Table of Contents Instructions
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Alexis Angel & Daphne Dawn
Chapter 1
David
“Fffffuck.”
My cock stiffens in the little slut’s hands, and she strokes it quickly, licking up the droplets of cum escaping its head.
This is one thing I’ll always take advantage of as King. Hell, I took advantage of it as prince, too. But the endless sea of eager wet pussies willing and wanting to devour my cock will never get old.
I mean, fuck, this palace maid practically begged to suck my dick and, for me to fuck her, and I haven’t even had my fucking tea yet. But who needs tea when your maid can find something more effective for getting you up, am I right?
“Do you like that, sir?” The maid, on her knees, looks up at me through her thick eyelashes and pulls my twelve-inch cock back into her mouth. She gags at the impact, and I force myself not to laugh.
I can appreciate what she’s doing but fuck, right now I can’t help thinking, don’t fucking choke on my dick, broad. I can see the fucking headline now.
She continues to do her work, sucking and licking me like I’m a fucking Popsicle. It’s like she’s making sure to lick up every inch of me before I melt or something. An interesting technique, but quite frankly, it’s a bit hurried for my taste.
But fuck, it’ll do for now.
I lean my bare ass on my desk, and revel at the sight of her sucking me off with the background of my estate behind her.
God, it feels so fucking good to be King. I can definitely get used to this view.
You’re probably thinking right now, who the fuck is this guy?
Well, loves, I’m King David fucking Lockridge. Some call me the embodiment of a woman’s wet dream.
Sounds cocky, doesn’t it? Well, I didn’t say it. I’m just repeating facts.
Trust me, I don’t fit the traditional King stereotype. I’m six-foot-five and built like a fucking Viking. In addition to making woman cum with the snap of my fingers, I’ve been named the Sexist Man Alive since I became legal for them to get off to.
Still too cocky for you? Well, loves, I hate to break it to you—I’m very fucking cocky. I have twelve-inches of thick, throbbing cock and I fucking know how to use it.
How can you not be a little arrogant when you look like me—all blonde hair, green eyes, and a body that looks like fucking Michelangelo himself carved it from marble? You’d have to be a saint to not boast about it. And if you haven’t figured it out by now, a saint is the last fucking thing I am.
It’s one of the things I’m most known for. Just look at the amount of smut the tabloids write regarding my various endeavors, mostly rooted in debauchery.
Debaucherous Prince David, that’s my name, and it’s what my reputation is based on.
I fucking love it.
But apparently, some smoke show
from New York is going to come and try to fix me. My advisors decided that a PR consultant…or whatever the fuck she’s called, will be a wise addition to the team. Her work is supposed to improve my credibility with the Cabinet and approval rate with the commonwealth.
Blah, blah, bullshit. Apparently to be a King, you can’t have a flavorful past. Or so, they say.
I don’t fucking care, regardless. Though I’m excited to see that tight ass of hers boss me around. I’ve seen pictures of hard-ass Vivienne Taylor when I was doing my research, of course, and fuck, she’s hot.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t already jerked off thinking about her.
Hey, what can I say? A man has needs, and she can surprisingly fulfill those even with a pond between us.
“Ahh…fuck!”
The maid grazes her fucking teeth on my shaft.
Fucking hell.
I pick the little thing up from the ground and bend her over the desk.
“I’m fucking this tight ass of yours. Brace yourself.” I growl.
“Yes…yes sir,” she whimpers breathlessly.
Seriously, how could you not get enough of this?
If there’s one thing this PR chick makes me give up…fuck, don’t let it be this.
I thrust into the maid, propelling her forward, and she grasps onto the other end of the desk, spreading herself like a starfish.
“Oh, sir. Yes! Fuck me harder.” Her pussy envelops me, loosely, and I force myself to stay hard.
Usually, I’m not this fucking picky with who I fuck, but for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about Vivienne. And I have no idea why. This woman is a fucking stranger to me. Yet she’s all I see while I’m fucking this girl.
“Fuck…” I grind into the maid harder, envisioning Vivienne standing over me, like some sexy ass schoolteacher, telling me what to do and what not.
It keeps me going for another minute, but I lose it.
Okay, this is fucking bullshit. I’ve never had this happen before.
“Is everything okay, sir?” she asks, craning her head in my direction.
I pull out of her and turn away. She just isn’t doing it for me. Not when all I can think about is Vivienne.
“Yeah, fuck. I must be tired or something. Maybe another time.” I dismiss her and fall into my chair, swiveling it around so my back is facing the maid.
“Of course. Good day, sir.” She walks out quietly, and I feel only slightly bad for not finishing.
This fucking Vivienne chick is already ruining my reputation and she isn’t even here yet. But my cock starts throbbing all over again thinking of her.
What the fuck? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!
Well, might as well finish what I started. No one wants to deal with a blue-balled King anyway.
I wrap my hand around my dick and start to stroke it, imagining Ms. Vivienne Taylor riding me. To my surprise, the pressure of my orgasm builds fast. Sweat begins to form at my hairline and my bicep strains against my shirt. This fucking cock is a goddamn work out.
I hear muffled voices outside my office door, but I ignore them. My assistant won’t let whoever the fuck it is come inside without warning.
Keeping my back to the door and my gaze to the window, I lean back in my chair and prepare myself for fucking lift off.
Shit. I haven’t been this turned on in…a while. “Fuckkkkk…”
“King David, Vivienne Taylor is here to see you.” Charles voice distracts me. What the fuck!
With my dick in my hand, I turn towards the most gorgeous brunette I’ve ever seen. Her blue eyes sparkle like diamonds, and she has a tight hourglass figure covered by a skin-hugging black dress that does the trick.
It’s Vivienne, and if thought she was insanely sexy in her pictures, she looks like a fucking sex goddess in person.
Her eyes travel down my body, greedily landing on my twelve-inch cock and my handiwork. I notice a spark of excitement in her eyes, and out of fucking nowhere, like a fucking volcano, I erupt…all fucking over her.
The hot, creamy liquid violently jets out of me, decorating her black dress and effectively ruining it. It’s like I marked her as my property.
And I have to admit, though I don’t fucking know why, some primal instinct within me roars to life at that idea.
Fuck.
This woman just made me cum without even touching me.
Ms. Vivienne fucking Taylor.
I think I’m quite pleased to make her acquaintance.
Chapter 2
Vivienne
“Holy fuck!” I yell in surprise. How am I already covered in his cum? I just walked through the door.
And to think, I thought wearing black on my first day would be a safe bet. Now, it looks like this new Chanel dress is ruined, all thanks to King David’s massive amounts of cum staining the fabric. I wish I could say that I’m pissed, but I’m actually impressed.
Yeah, Yeah, I know. I’m sure you’re thinking, What the fuck, babe?! How in the hell are you not pissed that this man just blew a five-pound load of cum on your new $700 Chanel dress, the one you purchased specifically for today?
If it were anyone else, I would be livid. I’d probably walk out of the door, slam it in his face, and never look back.
But it’s King David. The David Lockridge. And I just saw his dick—his impressive, thick, twelve-inch dick, fully erect in his hands.
Not only is he fucking gorgeous—like, other-worldly, too hot for humans gorgeous—but so is his cock. And I’m surprised because I never thought I’d find a dick that’s so damn attractive.
Though, admittedly, I’ve seen it before. It’s been in sex tapes and in random photos printed in tabloids throughout the years.
But to see it in person is a whole different experience. Like the saying goes, the pictures do not do it justice.
I try to refrain from staring at it—no, correction, gawking at it—but it’s too hard. Very hard.
My panties were already soaking wet as I watched him stroke his cock to ecstasy. And now, as I feel the warmth of his cum showering my body, regardless of it was meant for me or not, is making me fucking hot.
I should probably back up because it sounds like I’m a fucking fangirl. Well, to be honest, I kind of am. But that’s not why I’m here.
Unfortunately, my job description doesn’t include fucking the clients. Well, it’s only unfortunate because, now, my client is King David.
Being from New York or the U.S. in general, the idea of royalty has always been a romanticized notion. We fantasize about being a Princess or a Queen and being married to a King. It’s so far-fetched that the only thing we can do is dream about it.
And that’s what I always did.
The tabloids made it easier because I could stay-up-to-date with what the actual royals in Europe were doing. And while growing up, I was one of the billions who followed David’s every move.
He was fascinating. More than the others, especially. It also didn’t hurt that he was so damn sexy—I mean, if you didn’t want to be his princess, you definitely wanted to, at least, fuck him.
Oh, and it didn’t help when the sex tapes came out. Let’s just say, every woman then had a clear idea—and image—of how he is in bed. And it is very impressive.
I would be lying if I said he didn’t star in my fantasies every so often. Or more like every day.
Though now that I’ve seen him in person, I realize my vibrator doesn’t do it justice. At all.
But let me back up a bit.
Those types of stories are exactly why I’m over here now. He has a bad reputation. He’s known for partying too hard, fucking too many women, and, frankly, not giving one damn about his country.
It worked well for him as a Prince, making the headlines as the Debaucherous David—as well as for my highlight reel. But as a King? That type of shit does not go over well. With anyone.
After the tragic incident which resulted in the death of most of his family, he recently was crowned K
ing. The turnover was swift, and before the world knew it, the porn star Prince was on the throne and making all the decisions.
And no one is happy about it.
But with some finagling and spinning, his image can be restored—or, at least, that’s what I told the royal counsel.
I’ve worked my ass off as a Public Relations consultant in New York for most of my twenties. I’ve dealt with all sorts of clients, ranging from strung-out, doped-up athletes who needed to rework their images into wholesome family guys in order to keep their jobs, to philandering politicians who were begging for a second chance.
I’ll never judge anyone for what they’ve done, especially my clients. It’s not for me to decide what’s right or wrong. For me, it’s just business. And I help whoever pays me.
But don’t be too quick to judge me and my approach, babe. A woman has to eat, and, in New York, eating gets damn expensive.
Plus if I’m going to be seen next to any of my high-profile clients, I need to look fucking good. So, yeah, I also use my money to get designer clothes.
A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And, frankly, I really like doing it. I get a rush every time I know that I saved someone’s career from crashing and burning like a fucking torpedo. Occasionally, I also save a family.
I promise, it’s not all bad and conniving. And trust me, I’m not like Olivia Pope by any means. Though I can get ruthless when I need to be, sure; but it’s just a part of the business.
I would argue that’s why the royal family hired me. They know I’m the one who can get the job done, and get it done really fucking well.
I’m not trying to stroke my ego or paint myself as an angel to you. I’m merely stating the facts. I have a track record of making all sorts of people look fucking fantastic.
And I’m good at what I do because I work fucking hard at it. I don’t just sit and wait for things to happen to me. I make them happen.
When I got the call from one of King David’s advisors, asking me to come and help them, I knew I couldn’t say no. It was an opportunity of a lifetime. To fix David’s reputation and mend his image will solidify me as the best fucking PR consultant in the business.
How could I say no to that?