by Kim Karr
If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s trying to send me a message through the woman she knows way more about than she’s ever let on.
Then again, I do know better.
Of course, she is.
The autobiography ends with a famous quote: “It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”
Oh, Grandmother, you sly fox.
IT’S HOT
The Present
That’s the last of them.
I’m just taping shut my last box when there’s a pounding at the door. That must be my dinner. I grab my wallet and rush for it. I haven’t eaten all day, and I am famished.
“Come Together” is blaring through my speakers, but the Chinese delivery guy doesn’t like the Beatles, so I turn it down.
I quit my job with Wimbledon Life three weeks ago and spent the time since completing the series of articles for Queen Helena. I’m not sure if she’ll be able to get them published, but I know she’s going to try.
Tomorrow, I’m heading to Alexandria to spend some time with my mother before I head to New York. Julius paid the facility for the next year, so once I figure out what comes next in my life, I’ll move her closer to me. I’m not really sure what comes next, though, and for once in my life, I’m okay with that.
When I open the door, I freeze, and my lips part in surprise. “Julius.” He’s in jeans and a t-shirt. His backward baseball hat and shoes remind me of our off-camera time on The Bachelor.
His gaze drifts over me slowly, taking in everything, and when it finally returns to my face, there is a heat in his eyes that makes me weak at the knees. “Can I come in?”
I’m barefoot in a pair of jean shorts and a white halter top with a low-cut back to help with the oppressive heat. My hair is up, and I’m wearing very little makeup because most of it has melted off throughout the day. Still, I’ve been feeling better about myself.
That whole redemption and atonement thing really has done wonders for my self-esteem.
I run my sweaty palms over the denim. “Yes, sure. However, I have to warn you, the air conditioner is broken, and it’s stifling hot in here.”
He shakes his head, smiling as though bewitched by me. “Well, you look…good. Wow.”
Of course, I blush. “Thank you,” I manage through garbled and dazed words as I step aside to let him in.
The sofa is loaded with boxes, as are the chairs, the only open space in the room is the mattress, and I find myself laughing at the irony of it.
He raises a brow. “Want to let me in on the joke?”
“Sure. Why not. I was thinking I’d ask if you’d like to take a seat, but the only place to sit is on the bed, and we both know that’s the one place you don’t want to go anywhere near.”
This makes him laugh, too. However, he surprises me when he says, “I don’t think you know me as well as you think.”
Sobering from his words, I grab two bottles of water from the refrigerator, open them, and head for the fire escape. “Let’s sit out here. The breeze is really nice.”
The space is small, and we have to sit really close to both fit. “Thanks for letting me in.”
“Yes, of course. Was there something else you needed from me? I thought Raquel agreed to leave you alone.”
His voice grows hoarse. “She did. Me being here has nothing to do with her.”
“Then what is it?”
“You left me in London.”
I glare at him. “Because you never came back.”
He grins at my flare of temper and reaches over to push a piece of hair from my face. “Yes, I did. After I paid off that Paparazzo to destroy the footage he’d taken, I returned. You knew I had to get my things and shower before my meeting.”
“Well, you took too long, and honestly, you’d said everything that needed to be said.” I push toward his caress like a kitty cat does when you scratch her. God, I’m pathetic.
“That’s just it; I didn’t. Not really.”
He sets his bottle down and takes my face between his hands. “I fucked up. I’ve spent the last three years trying so hard not to be like my grandfather that I didn’t realize I could really benefit by being more like my grandmother. Forgiveness doesn’t come easy for me, Lia, but I do, I forgive you.”
I look up into his too handsome face. God, I love his face. God, I love him. “What are you saying?”
“I want to try again,” he whispers against my lips. “If it’s not too late, I want to try again with you.”
At his words, I suck in a breath, my heart racing at the deep emotion behind them. “Julius.”
He pulls me close to him and whispers, “Tell me you forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I whisper back.
But he doesn’t smile. Instead, his expression turns pleading. “Tell me I’m not too late.”
Love for this man moves through me, and I have to proclaim it. My fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt. “I love you, Julius, and I would have waited until the end of time if it meant you seeing it.”
“I love you, Ophelia Heart,” he says, and I swear I see a shooting star in the sky.
I press my head against his shoulder and try to stop the tears from coming. With his fingers running through my hair, he holds me tight, whispering sweet nothings into my ear until I calm down.
We stay like this, out in the summer night, for more than two hours, eating Chinese and talking about the past weeks, yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Then we kiss and kiss and kiss.
It’s nearly midnight when he stands and holds out his hand for me. “Will you let me stay the night?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to go somewhere more public?”
“I think I’ll opt for private this time.”
“Good.” I grin, but before I step inside, Julius scoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder, carrying me through the door, and over to the mattress. “Put me down,” I laugh.
And he does. He plops me on the mattress and then hovers over me. A rush of need courses through me, and I clasp him by the back of the neck to pull his mouth down to mine.
He groans in approval, the sound vibrating through me, as he returns my demanding kiss.
I want him.
To have him.
Mark him.
Keep him,
As if sensing the emotion in me, he pulls back and stares into my eyes. “I want you, Lia, now and forever.”
I nod, unable to voice the very same thing, and then peel off his shirt. He, in turn, removes mine.
The heat inside no longer matters when we’re both naked, and he’s kissing me from my forehead to my navel.
“Julius,” I sigh, as he spreads my legs and places himself between them.
I instinctively open my thighs as wide as I can. His eyes smolder as he looks up at me. I arch my back, offering myself to him. He bends his head, his hungry eyes locked with mine. I shiver, thrilled to see that look of possessiveness in his gaze before he licks my pussy with his hot mouth. It’s a look I’ve only caught a glimpse of over the past weeks, until now. I whimper at the molten pleasure that ripples through my lower belly, and I clutch the sheets as he devours me. “You like this.” It’s not a question but a statement.
With a moan, I reply. “At least we can’t get caught.”
“But if we could, just imagine the erotism of a picture where I’m licking your pussy.” His words are scratchy and full of arousal, as he stares up at me with a devilish look I know all too well.
“Don’t stop.”
He bites his bottom lip, studying me for a moment. “I never want to.”
My belly squeezes deep down low. “Good.”
He licks me again, dragging his tongue over my clit.
“Oh, Julius,” I hiss, my hips writhing against him.
“That’s it, Pretty Girl, say my name.”
“Julius…Julius…Julius.”
Every time I say his name, his licks over
my clit intensify. When I start to tremble, he circles my sex with his tongue, pressing it down, and then he sucks on me, and I find myself soaring.
“Oh, Julius!” My head falls back, my eyes close, and when he slides his fingers inside me, I come undone, my climax pulsing through me, and I scream my release.
Still shuddering through the remnants of my orgasm, I am barely aware of Julius moving up the bed and hovering over me. Within seconds, he’s bracing himself over me, and then he’s inside me, moving slowly in and out.
I cry out, closing my eyes to savor the pleasure. He moves slow. The rough, raw sex we’ve been having is replaced with a gentler, but still intense version.
“Look at me,” he whispers. “I want to see you.”
My eyes open, and when I look into his, I can see my feelings reflected back at me.
Love.
Admiration.
My lips part as he continues to pump into me, so slow it’s both pleasure and pain. Soon, though, another orgasm starts to build, and I know we’re going to come together, like the song having looped around on my playlist.
“Lia,” he pants, his hot eyes never once leaving mine.
“Yes,” I reply, breathlessly.
“You’re mine.”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I’m yours.”
He takes my hands in his as his thrusts come faster, and he holds them tight.
“You need to come with me,” he pants harder, a bead of sweat glistening on his forehead from the strain of holding back his own climax.
“I am,” I answer breathlessly, jerking my hips in rhythm to his thrusts. “We’re going to come together.”
The next thick drag of his cock inside me pushes me over the edge. His lips crash down on mine, and seconds later, he stiffens and groans as his hips jerk against me.
The heat of passion isn’t cooled, even when he rolls us over and runs his hands down my back in a soothing motion.
He’s still inside me when I rest my head on his shoulder. “Don’t leave.”
His fingers glide up to hold me in place. “I never will. Not ever again.”
“Me either,” I whisper, as I close my eyes, finding the most peaceful sleep in his arms, right where I belong.
He’s my home.
More than that…he’s mine.
NO NEWS
The Wimberly Warrior
The Gossip Column
HOT ROYAL NEWS
By Ann Hess
This column has officially been shut down.
A DIFFERENT ANSWER
Six Weeks Later
The Paparazzi are watching again.
There are at least six of them, up on the hill looking down on the field. They stay in the shadows, popping out to take photograph after photograph, and then ducking back again.
For once, I don’t care. In fact, I’m actually waiting for the game to end, so they can catch me outside and dare to ask the question.
“Have one!” I shout to Arnie as I pass him the ball.
He isn’t the best soccer player on the team, so I’m surprised when he scores the winning goal.
Show off. More than likely, he’s just trying to get my girl’s eye, which he never will because she’s mine.
The game ends, and I’m walking off the field when I spot Lia wheeling my grandmother over toward me. Grams is doing better now that some of the pressure is off her. Secretly, she told my father she wants to live long enough to meet her great grandchildren.
No worries—there are no buns in the oven, yet.
After kissing the Queen, I then kiss my girlfriend. “Hi, Girlfriend.” The headlines are calling her that, so I decided I would, too, and besides, Arnie isn’t that far away, and I’m sure he’s listening.
“Hi.” She rolls her eyes every time I call her that, but I know she secretly loves it. Then she spots Arnie and gives him a wave. He waves back as he passes by us, looking to claim his glory.
Okay, he played well, I’ll give him that—but he’s still a sucker.
The soccer game was for charity in the name of the Crown, and winning means heading over to the Children’s Hospital to present the trophy. Grandmother won’t be attending, sending myself and Lia in her place instead.
I could ask Arnie to join us, but I won’t.
Maybe next time.
I’ve taken to my royal duties better than I would have thought. Having Lia by my side certainly makes them all the more fun.
Lia is finishing college virtually, so she usually has time to do whatever the Crown has on the agenda. She’ll have her degree in three months, and she’s really excited about it. We’re even going to New York, so she can walk for graduation.
With our entourage beside us, we exit the gate, and there they are.
The Paparazzi.
I don’t avoid them.
Taking Lia’s hand, I step in front of everyone, so they can assault me with their questions.
A microphone is shoved in my face, and when a guard tries to push the Paparazzo away, I stop him. “Let the guy ask his question.”
And he does. “Prince Julius, do you ever plan to marry?”
I grin like a motherfucker. “Yes, I do, and I plan on giving Wimberly at least six heirs.”
The guy’s eyes pop out of his head.
And so do Lia’s.
The moment is priceless.
Six Months Later
“Don’t peek.”
“How can I, you have me blindfolded. Where are we?” she asks.
I’m behind Lia, and I pull her close to my body to whisper in her ear, “I told you, it’s a secret, Pretty Girl.”
She shivers beneath my fingertips, and the grin on my face couldn’t be fuller.
It took me almost two months to convince her to move into the Palace with me. During those sixty days, I courted her the old-fashioned way—with dates, dinners, walks in the park, hikes through the forest, and of course, dirty talk—lots and lots of it.
Sure, I still fucked her in public places, but I also made sure to make love to her in bed every night.
When nothing I did worked, I bought her a piano and lamely tried to serenade her with a Beatles song. Still, she said we needed time. Personally, I thought we’d had plenty—three fucking years of time.
In the end, I actually think it was my grandmother who sealed the deal. The old coot just has her ways, and securing a room in the Palace with a nursing staff for Lia’s mother meant she had to move in with me, right?
I should have thought of that.
In the end, she agreed to move in with me because we belong together, and she knows it as well as I do.
It just took me longer to figure it out than her.
Getting Lia to Belize is another story. It has been no easy feat. On the plane, I had to make sure the attendants said nothing about our destination, even when she prodded and questioned like the good little journalist she is.
Speaking of good journalists, The Throne Got in the Way hit the shelves this week and is already a bestseller. A New York publisher turned the series of articles into a book, and not only is my grandmother’s story now a legend, so is Lia. And her next book, titled, THE NEW CAMELOT is going to rock the entirety of the Vespa Isles. I can’t wait.
Leading Lia down the beach pathway, I lick my lips nervously, something I never do. I’m never nervous, but then again, I rarely put myself out there, either.
The place is exactly as I’d requested—an archway close to the water decorated with simple white flowers, a seashell path leading to it, and two rows of chairs with ribbons wrapped around them.
Her dress is perfect, too.
It’s cream-colored, short, and sexy.
When I place the necklace my grandmother wants her to have around her neck, her hands fly to it, and she fingers the three-strand pearl necklace with a Cameo in the middle.
“Is this your grandmother’s necklace?” she asks.
“Yes, it’s your something borrowed
.”
“I don’t understand.”
I turn Lia around to face me. She’s wearing the dress her sister picked out for her, even if she doesn’t know it’s her wedding dress.
Pulling the ribbon from her eyes, she stares into mine. “What’s going on?”
“I thought we could finish what we started here, the right way.”
She knows where we are, the familiar scent of the sea air and the palm trees swaying this way and that have to give it away. “I don’t understand.”
I drop to one knee. “It’s here I figured out what love was, it’s here I knew you were the woman I wanted to be real with, and it’s here where I fix what I broke. Will you let me?”
Her eyes brighten, and tears spill down her cheeks as she nods.
I pull the ring from my pocket and hold it at the tip of her finger. “Ophelia Heart, you are everything I never knew I wanted, and I don’t want to live my life without you. Will you marry me and make me the happiest guy in the world?”
After wiping her tears away, she drops down on her two knees and looks at me with more love in her eyes than I deserve. “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you. I love you, Prince Julius Monaco, and I want to spend my entire life showing you just how much.”
I slide the ring on her finger, and she stares at it, before looking at me. “Is this your grandmother’s ring?”
The ten-carat diamond twinkles in the sun, and I nod. “Yes. She said it was extraordinary, and an extraordinary girl like you should be wearing it.”
“I can’t believe this is real.”
“It is,” I tell her, and my heart feels swollen in my chest with the love I feel for her.
Tears swim in her eyes, and I wipe them away with the pads of my thumbs. “God, Julius—” she starts to say, but I stop her.
“Not God, baby, just me.”
With a laugh, my arms wrap tightly around her, and when they do, I notice her eyes shift over my shoulder. I give her a rueful smile. “We’re being photographed.” I snort. “And this time, it’s not for pretend.”
“That’s exactly what I said.” We both turn to see Queen Helena being wheeled toward the beach by my father. “Now, if you two extraordinary people don’t hurry up, we’ll miss the sunset, and the moment will be lost.”