The King's Secret Bride_A Royal Wedding Novella

by Alexis Angel

  The other two return and look at me with arms folded over their chests. None of them laugh…or crack a smile. They just stare at me like the prime cut T-bone that I am.

  I take another swig of my whiskey, and set it down on my living room table.

  My thumbs slide down under the elastic band of my pajamas. Admittedly, they’re not all that sexy, but fuck it. They’re pajamas.

  I push them down over my hips and let them fall to my feet. I step out from the heap and put my hands on my hips.

  I can see them look down at my cock, and fight the urge to react, just letting their eyes grow wide for themselves. Not that I blame them.

  Even when I’m not hard, my uncut cock is thick and long. Like Subway-foot kind of long, though I’d like to think I cost more than just five dollars.

  I resist the urge to swing my fucking cock around like a helicopter and decide to wear my most charming smile for them instead.

  “So? Liking the angle of the dangle?”

  Fucking crickets. Red lights are flashing. Time to exit stage left. But they circle around me, inspecting me for any flaws. And I know they won’t find any.

  And they don’t.

  I’m Will fucking Ambrose.

  “You’ll do. I’m sure the client will be satisfied.”

  “Well, I’m a satisfaction-guaranteed kind of guy.”

  None of them show any signs of amusement nor even a hint of a smile.

  I’m starting to think that maybe they’re robots, not women.

  “I’m sure you are, Mr. Ambrose.”

  The small one reaches into her pockets. I’m tempted to tell her no flash photography. But it isn’t a camera she pulls out.

  It’s a giant fucking neon pink ribbon. And when I say neon pink, I mean that it could be used as billboard in Vegas and still look fucking ostentatious.

  “Is that what you’re going to use to blindfold me with so that I still won’t know where we’re going and who my patron is?”

  “No, Mr. Ambrose. This is for you to wear. And only this.” The small one points to my cock.

  The three of them finally smile.

  Now I feel like I’ve sold my soul to the devil. Or, at the very least, his three Amazonian robot wives.

  But I’m Will Ambrose. I can play it fucking cool.

  “Gladly.”

  I take the ribbon from the woman with the most arrogant smile I can muster.

  Now if only I knew how to tie a proper fucking bow.

  So here I am; in Downtown Chicago of all fucking places. Stark fucking naked save for the pink bow tied firmly around my massive cock.

  I look like I belong on some Vegas stage rather than the streets of an upscale Chicago neighborhood.

  If I get jumped, tell my sister it’s her fucking fault.

  I ring the doorbell to the penthouse that the website people dropped me off at.

  And, man, am I not prepared for her.

  The woman’s gorgeous, with dark hair and eyes that look like fucking sunsets. And she has a killer body that I want to fuck, lick, and suck till sunrise.

  Fucking.

  Gorgeous.

  “Hey,” I say to her, tilting my head and licking my lips like the cocky asshole I am. “Special delivery?”

  My cock twitches just looking at her, which is fucking perfect—because that way, I know exactly where her eyes are going.

  I’m going to make this woman mine.

  Katrina

  He’s gorgeous.

  No, scratch that. He’s just plain fucking hot.

  He’s got hooded, smoky fuck-me eyes that a woman like me could get lost in—and I’m pretty fucking handy with a map. His chest is so sculpted, it looks like it was modeled after a Greek statue in the Louvre—or maybe the statues were modeled after him.

  His dark hair is so thick, I can imagine myself running my fingers through it in ecstasy just by looking at it.

  His abs…My hand is practically trembling as I raise my fingertips up to them. They make washboards look bad. I just wanna drop to my knees where I stand, and let my tongue roam up and down those sexy chiseled hills until I forget my own name.

  “Go ahead,” he says. “You can touch, if you like.”

  Let’s get one thing straight here, babe. Momma likes. Momma wants to touch this man all over until every inch of him is covered in my fingerprints.

  But then I look up at him and see the way he’s smirking down at me with that shit-eating grin. And that? That just pisses Momma off.

  “Don’t fucking flatter yourself,” I say, narrowing my eyes and pulling my hand away.

  Seriously—who the fuck does this guy think he is?

  “Come on, you know you fucking want to.”

  He stands with that smirk still on his face.

  “What I really want is to send you back where you came from.”

  I grab my laptop off the table and sit down on my leather couch. I pull up MailOrder.com on the screen.

  “You don’t really fucking want to do that now.”

  He struts over to where I sit and plops himself down next to me.

  “Get your naked ass off my couch!”

  “Make me, sweetheart.”

  He sounds like a tough guy from one of those bad-ass movies.

  “I don’t have to make you,” I tell him. “You’re canceled. Full stop. I don’t know what kind of woman you think I am, but—”

  “Oh, I know exactly what kind of woman you are.” He leans in close to me, and for a moment I’m caught up in rapture by the smell of his skin and the closeness of his lips. “You’re the kind who orders hot men on the internet and then chickens the fuck out when it comes time to put them to use.”

  Which, okay. Fair.

  But that doesn’t change my mind.

  I pick up my laptop and move away from him. I can only hope he gets off my couch.

  He follows me to the kitchen. I put my laptop on the counter, and he shuts it.

  “You look fucking sexy in that nightie. Let me show you why you shouldn’t return me.”

  He stands like he’s some kind of god and smiles that shit-eating grin at me again.

  “No, you’re not going to show me anything. I’m returning you as soon as I figure out how to do it.”

  I open my laptop back up.

  He shuts it again. “Why don’t you give me a chance to show you what a good fuck I am? I’m already naked, so all I need to do is get that nightie off you. That shouldn’t be too hard.”

  “That’s not going to happen, so you can forget it.” I try to look at MailOrder.com again. “You’re not staying here another minute.”

  “That’s not the way to talk to this gorgeous hunk of meat.”

  He moves his body so his cock with the pink bow wiggles around, and his grin at me gets even bigger.

  I couldn’t look at him anymore. I keep my eyes on the computer screen.

  “Oh, I get it now. You’re nervous seeing my huge cock like this, aren’t you?”

  His eyes watch me. I can see that out of the corner of my eye.

  “I bet you’ve never seen one this big, have you?”

  He’s still wiggling around.

  “No,” I say.

  “No, what?”

  He tries to look at the screen with me.

  “No, I’m not nervous.” I scroll down the page on the screen. “And no, I haven’t seen a cock quite as big as yours. You’re fucking proud of it, aren’t you?”

  “You can’t even fucking look at me. I make you that nervous.” He moves closer to me. “Yes, I am fucking proud of it. Girls love all twelve inches of my cock. I bet you would, too.”

  “Could you give me some room here?” I ask focusing on the screen.

  I can’t find MailOrder.com’s return policy on their website.

  “There’s no fucking way I’m moving. Not until you tell me why you ordered me in the first place.”

  “I can’t do anything with you standing so close to me,” I say.

 
I still won’t look at him even though I know he’s staring at me. He doesn’t budge from the spot where he stands next to me.

  “Fine, have it your way.” I look at him. “Look, I was drunk. I was being horny and slutty and stupid. I thought MailOrder.com was a scam, okay?”

  “It’s not a fucking scam. I’m in your apartment, aren’t I?”

  He does that godlike pose again.

  “Besides, you’re not my type at all,” I say.

  I want him to leave. I want him out of my apartment right now.

  “So, what is your type?” he asks. He’s not leaving anytime soon.

  “Definitely not you,” I say…even though that’s not entirely true.

  “But you picked me out of all those other fucking guys on the website. Why would you do that?” he asks.

  “I didn’t pick you out.”

  “Yes, you fucking did. You can’t deny it. And I won’t let you.”

  He stands right in front of me.

  “You’re right. I can’t deny it. I did order you.”

  I look at his hooded, smoky fuck-me eyes and that thick dark hair. How can I deny what I did? Those eyes and that hair grabbed my attention the moment I saw his photo on MailOrder.com.

  We stare into each other’s eyes.

  “How about you unwrap me?”

  He doesn’t take his eyes off me.

  “Unwrap you?” I ask without breaking eye contact.

  “The bow on my huge fucking cock. Take it off.”

  He smiles that shit-eating grin at me again. He glances down at his cock and back at me.

  I look down and see the pink bow tied around the middle of his cock. I pull the end of the bow and untie it. The ribbon falls to the floor.

  I look back up at him. He moves even closer to me until the space between us doesn’t exist. His cock rubs against the outside of my nightie.

  He grabs the back of my head, pulling me so our lips touch. He thrusts his tongue inside my mouth and kisses me like no other man has before.

  William

  So there are kisses, and then there are kisses. This was the latter.

  This woman tasted better than any woman I have ever had.

  Period.

  End of fucking story.

  Apparently, she didn’t feel the same as I feel her hand slap across my face with more force than I thought she had.

  It stings, but I’m impressed.

  “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but we’re not doing this.”

  “We aren’t? But didn’t you order me?”

  I wiggle my hips and swing my cock around like a helicopter.

  She pushes me and heads out of the room.

  I laugh, and she looks like she wants to throw a TV at me.

  “Come on, you ordered me. Obviously, you wanted me, so here I am. Enjoy me.”

  I’m pretty sure that she’ s about to call the cops when she pulls out her phone. Something I’m sure that Sarah would fucking die laughing over.

  Only, she isn’t calling the police.

  She’s calling up MaleOrder.com—on speakerphone.

  “You’re not trying to return me already, are you? But you haven’t gotten to have a taste first,” I laugh.

  “Well I don’t want a taste of any of...” she says as she gestures at my body.

  But I see how her eyes linger for a moment on my cock.

  “Hello, MaleOrder.com customer service. This is Tanya. How may I assist you?”

  The customer service woman sounds bored. She sounds more monotone that I can’t tell if she is a real person or a robot.

  Maybe even one of the three that had picked up earlier.

  “Hi. I mistakenly ordered from your website and I’d like to return my purchase,” she explains to the operator. Her eyes never leave my body.

  “I’ll see what I can do. Hold, please.”

  I wink, and she turns her back on me. She’s fighting it, but it’s obvious she wants it as much as I do.

  “You know, you’re not much of a host. First, you purchase me from some website—and then when I’m dropped off on your door step, you don’t even offer me anything to drink.”

  “That’s because you aren’t staying here—at all. I’m returning you, and that will be the end of it. So, don’t even think about getting comfortable.”

  She’s feisty, and I like it. I can only imagine what kind of firecracker she is in the bedroom.

  “Hello, ma’am?” It’s a new voice on the speakerphone, but still just as bored-sounding as the other one.

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “I’m sorry ma’am, but our policy dictates that you must keep your purchase for fourteen days before you can return them for a refund.”

  “Oh, you better be fucking kidding me right now!”

  “Some relationships take more time than others to develop. We’re sure that you will love your purchase and ultimately be happy with the decision you’ve made.”

  I’m pretty sure that the robot Doctor Phil speech is about to make my purchaser throw her phone across the room.

  Will: One. Woman who purchased me: Zero.

  “Thank you again for using MaleOrder.com. We hope you enjoy your evening.”

  She lets out one long sigh of frustration, and I decide to go take a seat in her living room.

  “Whoa! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  “To have a seat. You heard the woman. You can’t return me, so you gotta keep me.”

  “No way. You’re leaving. Right now. I’m not fucking staying around here.”

  I find a leather chair and have a seat. The black fabric feels cool and nice against my body.

  “Well, if you’re not fucking staying here, would you care to go to the bedroom instead?” I look up at her with a smug smile of victory.

  Because, let’s be real here, I won.

  I may not have wanted this at first, but I’m here and I’m going to enjoy myself. And I plan on enjoying her as well.

  “Look, I work in a couple of hours. I don’t have the time to deal with this bullshit. Now get up and get the fuck out. Now!”

  Her tone is absolute in its resolve. Her body? Not so much.

  As I stand up, I see her golden eyes look down at my cock and linger again.

  She wants me. She wants my cock.

  And I want her.

  There was something in that kiss that I had never experienced before. There was a real, genuine spark.

  It’s not something that I can easily explain.

  Nor is it something I want to find an explanation for.

  It felt amazing.

  She felt amazing.

  And when I see her eyes look up into mine, I can tell that it was the same for her.

  “You don’t want me to leave. You say the words, but you don’t mean them.”

  “The fuck? I don’t!”

  Her resolve fumbles for the first time in the night.

  “Look me in the fucking eyes and tell me you didn’t feel something in that kiss. Tell me you don’t want to experience more.”

  The gap between us closes.

  I move slowly towards her. There’s this wave of palpable heat and want between us that I feel as I draw closer to her.

  The way she looks at me tells me she feels it too.

  Good.

  I can feel my cock twitching against my thigh as it starts to grow rigid and firm.

  She looks down, and her lips part at the sight of me.

  “I have no interest in this—or you. I must be at work in a couple hours. I just want to go back to sleep and get whatever rest I can. So just call yourself a cab or an Uber and fucking leave.”

  My hands reach out and take her hands in them.

  The tip of my thick cock is glistening with precum and slides up against her stomach. A small trail of wetness leaving a streak on the silk fabric.

  She trembles in my hands. Not out of fear, but of obvious desire.

  “How about we just enjoy each
other for this one night, and then you’ll never see me again?”

  Our eyes meet as she looks up at me and she swallows hard.

  “Never again?”

  “Never,” I assure her as I nod in agreement.

  Our words are barely whispers at this point as our lips draw each other in like magnets.

  And when our lips meet again, it’s like tasting Christmas.

  Her arms fly around my neck.

  My hands grab her firmly by the ass and lift her up into my arms.

  I feel our tongues sliding and massaging against one another.

  But it isn’t enough.

  I want—no—I need more.

  Katrina

  Jesus fucking Christ! What am I doing?

  The guy is a self-absorbed douchebag. The fucking asshole of all assholes.

  Is he hot? Sure.

  Does he have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen? By god in heaven, does he ever.

  And can he kiss? Fucking better than anyone I’ve ever kissed before.

  I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him. But I can’t help myself.

  It just feels too fucking good to stop.

  Just feeling his hard body against mine, and the jackhammer he has for a cock, has me wet and aching for more than I want to admit.

  “Put me down,” I demand.

  He looks at me a bit confused. I’m sure he’s about to protest or come up with another line, so I tell him again.

  To his credit, he listens and puts me down. And to his credit, my knees feel weak already.

  “Get on your knees,” I order, daring him with my eyes to even try to question me.

  “Excuse me?” he replies, grinning like a cocky, arrogant prick.

  I hate how it makes me want him more.

  “I purchased you. Not the other way around. So you’ll do as you’re fucking told and get on your knees.”

  Fuck it. If I’m stuck with him, I may as well take him for a test drive. God knows I could use some sort of stress relief.

  I lean back against the arm of my couch for support and lift my lingerie up over my stomach.

  I’m beyond wet. Like dripping down the side of my thigh kind of wet.

  He finally does as he’s told and moves one of my legs over his shoulder.

  God, even on his knees, he’s towering over me.

  I grab his silky black hair, and I move his face down my body—reminding him that it’s me who is in charge.