Keeping Her

by Holly Hart

  I chuckle and shake my head.

  “I’m sure he’s heard already, Dad,” Amanda says from her spot on the larger of the living room’s sofas. “It was kind of all over the news.”

  “What’s friggin’ Morova?” Vito asks. “Is that a district?”

  Amanda flashes her father a sour look.

  “Ike was just making up words, honey,” she says. “He thinks it’s funny.”

  The villa is nestled in the hills of Rome, only a few blocks from the Coliseum. The family has owned it since the sixteenth century, but it goes back to ancient times. Legend has it the home once belonged to Brutus, of Caesar back-stabbing fame, but I think that’s just a tall tale.

  Now that we’re down south and the mercury is above 100 degrees, Ike has finally replaced his blue jeans and boots with golf shorts and sandals.

  We’ll make a native out of him yet,” I say to Amanda as Ike and the children head outside to the pool.

  “Maybe,” she says.

  She’s been giving me one- and two-word answers all afternoon. I wonder if she’s angry because we’ve brought her father and the children with us on our honeymoon.

  “Is something wrong?” I ask, sitting next to her on the sofa.

  “No,” she says in a voice that means anything but.

  “Are you thinking we should have just come on our own?”

  “What?” she asks. “No, not at all. I’m glad Dad and the kids are here.”

  “So what is bothering you?”

  “Nothing.”

  I don’t pretend to understand women, but I do know that the word “nothing” rarely means nothing.

  Then it dawns on me.

  “You had lunch with Isabella. What did she say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Amanda, I know neither of us were prepared for it, but we’re married now. We need to talk to each other.”

  She sighs and looks at me. Finally.

  “You’re right,” she says. “And yes, it was Isabella. She was talking about royal marriages.”

  “What about them?”

  “She pointed out that a lot of them can’t survive the constant scrutiny. And the weird lifestyle that royals lead.”

  “Weird?” I ask. “It’s different, to be sure. But as your father pointed out, not many people can fly to Rome on a private jet.”

  “You’re right,” she says. “Besides, it’s not like either of us knows where this thing is going, anyway.”

  I shake my head. “Bloody Isabella,” I say. “I don’t understand why she feels the need to talk about things like that.”

  “Don’t blame her,” Amanda says. “She didn’t invent the situation; she was just telling me the facts.”

  “What other ‘facts’ did she tell you?”

  “That your mother and father weren’t the perfect couple.”

  “Who is?”

  “Did you know that your mother had her virginity tested, too?”

  Whoa.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s true, Dr. Sabine told me about it when she was testing me. Which, just for the record, wasn’t a hell of a lot of fun.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “How do you know your parents’ marriage wasn’t arranged?” she asks. “Your dad obviously knew he needed to marry a virgin. Maybe your mom was the only one available. Just like me.”

  This is starting to careen towards a cliff. I don’t want to get into a fight, but now I’m agitated.

  “We don’t know that,” I say. “Besides, just because a marriage is arranged doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”

  “It sure seems like the odds are higher, though, wouldn’t you say? I mean, do you know of any that lasted?”

  “Why are you so concerned?” I say. “You just told me neither of us knows where this is going. What difference does it make whether it lasts? You’re free in a year to get on with your life.”

  Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK. Why did I say that?

  Amanda’s eyes fill with tears.

  “Amanda, I didn’t mean…”

  She turns and stalks off to the master suite. I wait a few beats. What should I do? In the past, whenever I’ve argued with a woman, I’ve just broken up with her. I rarely ever got to that stage in a relationship anyway.

  But Amanda is different. I don’t care about being right with her, I only care about her being happy. I can’t just sit here and let this stew.

  I knock on the door.

  “Come in.”

  I walk into the expansive suite. The walls are done in a historic fresco that a dozen universities have begged to study, but I’ve always said no. This villa is a private place that’s just for me.

  Correction: for us.

  Amanda is lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I lie down beside her and take her hand.

  “You were right,” I say.

  “About what?”

  “That neither of us knows where this is going.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But I do know one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I want us to work. I want us to have the happily ever after that the fairytales promise.”

  As she rolls over to look at me, I see tears shimmering just behind her eyes.

  “You do?” she says in a small voice.

  “More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”

  I clasp her hands in mine and kiss them.

  “I want you to know something: ever since we ran into each other outside my office, you’re all I can think about. The moment I saw your eyes, I knew, deep down, that I was your puppet.”

  Her eyes go wide. “You’re just saying that.”

  I raise my hand. “Swear to God. With each passing moment I spent with you, I was hooked deeper. That time in the gardens – it was never like that with anyone else. And our wedding night was magic.”

  She leans in and kisses me desperately. I grab her hair and press her even more tightly to me.

  “I felt the same way,” she says when we finally part. “That’s why I acted like such a goof outside your office. I couldn’t believe I was standing in front of you.”

  “Then do we agree that we both want this to work?”

  “Yes,” she says. “Absolutely.”

  “Good,” I say. “And as much as I want to pull off your clothes and have my way with you on this bed, your father and the children are right outside.”

  We both rise and walk out of the bedroom hand in hand.

  “Did you really experience all that just from looking in my eyes when we first met?” she asks, laying her head on my shoulder.

  “Well,” I say. “Your wet tits had something to do with it, too.”

  She giggles and punches my arm. “Good luck getting any for the rest of this trip.”

  “Oh, please,” I say. “You won’t be able to make it to the end of the night, let alone the end of the trip.”

  She sighs. “You’re right. I’m already thinking of a way to get Dad and the kids out of here so you can fuck me in that pool.”

  “Ike! Children!” I call, my eyes lighting up. “How would you three like to go into town and get us some gelato?”

  Chapter One Hundred Ninety

  45. AMANDA

  “So what else did you talk about with my aunt?” Dante asks as his hands glide down my naked back on a slick coating of sunscreen.

  “Nothing, really. She totally buys your playboy image, by the way.”

  My mind isn’t really on the conversation. It’s on Dante’s powerful fingers, and all the places they’re going. He starts at my shoulders, kneading gently, then down my back, and finally to my ass. He lingers there, sliding his thumbs up and down, dangerously close to my slit.

  “That figures,” he says. “She never spent any real time with me, even that year when she was regent before I turned twenty-one. All conversations with her are one-way.”

  “I’ve noticed that,” I sigh as his hands head
back up to my shoulders.

  The feel of him against my skin is intoxicating, and the fact I’m lying naked outside on a lounger is making me wet already. My patience is wearing thin.

  “She’s right about one thing, though,” he says.

  “Yeah?” I say. “What’s that?”

  “I have what you Americans call ‘mad skills’ in the playboy department.”

  “We Americans also like to say ‘talk is cheap.’”

  He stands up – I pout a bit as he takes his hands off me – and drops his swim shorts to the concrete pool deck. I turn my head to see his cock standing at full attention.

  “I guess I’d better show you, then,” he says, kneeling beside me.

  As he does, I raise myself up on all fours so that I’m eye-level with his manhood.

  “Get to work,” I say.

  He groans as I grab his shaft and draw it into my mouth. I do the same when his fingers finally find my pussy.

  We’ve been working on this a lot over the past few days, and I’ve always been a quick learner. I work his sensitive head with my tongue as my free hand tugs at the base of his cock. He moans in appreciation.

  Dante knows what I like, too: everything. He works his fingers in and out, stroking my clit while putting pressure on my G-spot with his thumb. I never knew I had one until he found it on our wedding night. Now, I want him to spend the rest of my life exploring it.

  The ripples start building, getting stronger with each wave, as his fingers probe deeper inside me. Dante is such a generous lover – he wants me to get off as many times as possible before we get to the main event. He knows I’m trying to make up for lost time.

  I push my groin towards his hand as my first orgasm starts. He increases the speed, adding extra fingers until I feel like I’m on fire. My breath catches in my throat as I buck my hips and ride the wave, over and over and over.

  Dante said he was my puppet, but the truth is, I’m his. He can make me move and jump and squirm with the slightest touch.

  I drop to my belly on the lounger, panting.

  “God, you’re good,” I huff.

  “See?” he says. “Skills.”

  I roll over onto my back and spread my legs so that my feet are on the pool deck, opening myself wide to him. He stares at me, mouth open. I stare at him – it’s like looking at one of the statues in the palace gardens.

  “What other skills do you have, baby?” I ask. “Show me.”

  He leans forward and surprises me by lifting me off the lounger completely. His hands clasp my buttocks and pull me upwards until my face is level with his. As he does, I wrap my legs around his waist.

  “Are you going to…?”

  And then he does, lowering me onto his iron rod. I gasp at the sensation of fullness as I go lower and lower. Each time we fuck (God, I love saying fuck, it feels so good), I find myself able to take more and more of him in.

  This time, I’m going for it all.

  “More,” I whisper. “I want every inch of you inside me.”

  He’s gentle about it, lifting me with those hydraulic arms of his as if I weighed nothing. Lift and drop, lift and drop. Each time going a bit deeper.

  His hips move in time with each lift, making it a double whammy, up and down at the same time. Finally, I feel my opening brush against the hair of his groin.

  “It feels like heaven,” he says.

  My mouth opens for his and we wrestle our tongues, not moving down there for a while. I’m content for him just to be all the way inside me.

  For a moment. But soon the need comes again, and I start to tilt my hips toward him, mashing my clit against his groin.

  “Fuck me hard, Dante,” I whisper. “As hard as you can.”

  Now that he has permission, he lets loose, gripping my ass and lifting me almost all the way off his cock, until only the head is left inside. Then he lowers me and raises his hips, thrusting himself all the way back in.

  “Oh God,” I pant, gripping my arms around his neck for dear life.

  With each thrust, he picks up speed, until I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. The pleasure is like a cloud that’s all around me, not just inside me.

  As the momentum builds, I let go of my clutch around his neck and drop down until I’m at arm’s length, clasping my hands behind his neck. He tilts my ass up and towards him, so that now he’s pounding directly into my G-spot.

  His speed is incredible, animalistic. Wave after wave flows over me and through me, filling me with a feeling of ecstasy. I finally manage to get my bearings after what seems like an eternity of frenetic motion.

  My eyes open just in time to see Dante’s face flex into a mask of pure joy, right as I feel him go off inside me like a cannon.

  We stand there, our heads against each other’s necks, breathing like the horses after a race at the Royal Ascot. My body shudders as aftershocks take over, but Dante holds me in place. We stand there a long time, him holding me tight, his cock deep inside me.

  I can’t stop what comes next. I don’t want to stop, consequences be damned.

  “Dante,” I whisper in his ear. “My prince. I love you.”

  “Amanda,” he whispers back. “My princess. I love you, too.”

  Chapter One Hundred Ninety-One

  46. DANTE

  It’s been three hours and it hasn’t gotten weird. That’s a good sign.

  Ike and the children got back less than ten minutes after Amanda and I finished our… exercises. Barely enough time for a cooling naked swim in the pool. The five of us have been together since.

  Amanda keeps sneaking glances at me and smiling. I smile back. It’s like we’re teenagers.

  Was it too soon? We’ve known each other less than a month. But stranger things have happened, surely. Such as getting married to fulfill a ridiculous decree.

  It was the only time I’ve ever said those words to a woman. I assume it was the first time for Amanda. We didn’t really talk about it after.

  “Uncle,” Oriana calls from the pool. “Did you know that cowboys were tougher than Roman soldiers?”

  “Is that right?” I say, cocking an eyebrow at Ike. He gives me a sheepish grin.

  “Because they had guns,” says Vito. “Roman soldiers only had swords.”

  “Well, that makes perfect sense,” I say.

  Amanda giggles. “You need to stop taking history lessons from my father.”

  “Can we call Ike something different?” Oriana asks. “Ike doesn’t sound right.”

  Ike wags a finger at her. “Watch it, kid, that’s my name you’re talkin’ about.”

  “What would you like to call him?” asks Amanda.

  “I don’t know,” says Vito. “What do you think we should call you?”

  “Don’t matter to me,” Ike says. “Just don’t call me late for supper.”

  Amanda glances at him. “Doesn’t look like that’s been happening much, lately,” she says with a grin.

  “Brat,” he grumbles. “Try’n raise a kid right, whaddaya get?”

  “Can we call you nonno?” asks Oriana.

  Amanda and I share a smile.

  “No-no?” Ike says. “What kinda name is that?”

  “Not no-no,” I say. “Nonno.”

  Amanda places a hand on his.

  “It’s Italian for grandfather, Dad.”

  Ike looks around at us, stunned, as the children grin widely. This is where the marshmallow peeks out from under that leather exterior.

  “Well,” he says, clearing his throat. “I suppose that’d be all right.”

  “Yay!” they cry in unison.

  I move over to where Ike is sitting and place a hand on his shoulder.

  “They’ve never had someone like you in their lives,” I say. “You and Amanda are always there for them, listening to them, playing with them. So many of the people around them tell them what to do, how to act. You simply want to be with them.”

  Amanda and I exchange another look. Her
eyes glimmer as they catch the setting sun.

  I could look into them for the rest of my life and never get tired of it.

  “Well, I do it ‘cause I love it, not ‘cause I have to,” he says. “And as long as they’ll have me around, I’ll be around for ‘em.”

  He turns to the children. “’Cept when they rat me out to their uncle and Amanda about cowboys and Roman soldiers!”

  He leaps into the air from the edge of the pool and drops into the water like a boulder, splashing water everywhere.

  As they play, Amanda sidles up next to me and takes my hand.

  “You may not realize it, but that’s one of the most important moments of my dad’s life,” she says.

  “I do realize it. And it’s kind of fitting, don’t you think? After all, you and I had a pretty important moment earlier.”

  She lays her head on my shoulder. “Yeah, we did.”

  “Do you feel better about the future now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you promise to take everything Isabella says with – what did Ike call it? A salt lick? – from now on?”

  She laughs. “Yes, I do.”

  “Good.”

  “Besides, we’ve got real things to worry about,” she says.

  “Like what? Princesses don’t have to worry about things, especially not my princess. Haven’t you ever seen a Disney movie?”

  “It’s funny you say that,” she says. “Because Chancellor Huber looks like the bad guy from one of those movies.”

  I shake my head. “Huber is a paper tiger. You said it yourself, the people love us, and it’s the people who count.”

  “I get the feeling that most of those people are younger, though,” she says. “I hate to say it, but historically, those are the people least likely to vote. I don’t think a referendum would be a slam dunk for us.”

  “It would be a lot easier if someone would go on camera and tell the real reason why the councils want the monarchy gone,” I say. “They want to take over my family fortune. It’s essentially state-sanctioned embezzlement.”

  She grabs my mouth between her fingers and squeezes, turning my face into a fish mouth.