Royally Duched (Duched #2)

by Xavier Neal

  Kellan opens the front door to usher me in and quietly questions, “He can’t take back his blessing, can he? You’re already wearing the ring.”

  His concern causes me to smile deviously. “You better hope not…”

  There’s really no need to worry. No matter how pissed off my father is when he realizes he was tricked into eating something that wasn’t a real cow, he would never stand in the way of my happiness. He’s good like that. Hopefully, what Kellan said about his own father is true, and we’re actually about to enter a new blissful state as opposed to the bleak one we were just in. What are the chances all this shit is really going to be that easy? Yeah. That’s what I thought…

  After spending about two hours in Kellan’s arms while he argued with my father about sports, my mother thankfully came home and changed the subject to the giant rock on my hand. She spotted it before she did Kellan and the conversation as well as the water works turned to our situation. He politely explained to them what he already had to me, only to have my parents nod their understanding.

  Maybe it’s a parental thing to be so over protective? You know, kind of like when you’re learning to ride a bike. There are two types of parents. You’ve got the one who’s reluctant to take off the training wheels then when they do they won’t let go of the bike because they can’t handle the idea of you hurting yourself when they could’ve prevented it. Then there’s the other. The one who straps on your helmet, folds their arms, and cringes each time you hit the ground. They’re just as afraid as the other, but they understand the importance of you learning to do it on your own. Learning independence. Learning to get back up when gravity or anything else in the world knocks you down. Don’t get me wrong, they hang out close by in case you need a hand, but they let you fall. They let you grow. Between Kellan’s account and my parent’s interpretation, I’m under the impression his father became the first parent in my analysis after his mother died and Kellan became the kid to kick his father in the shin rather than accept the help. Do you get the feeling I’m about to marry into some heavy drama? Holy shit! I’m gonna get married!

  His voice interrupts my thoughts. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

  I turn to him away from the SUV window. “What look?”

  “The one where something that should’ve hit you sooner just really hit you. Like when you were preparing to graduate but the magnitude of it all didn’t really fall upon you until about two days before. It’s the moose in headlights look.”

  “Deer.”

  “What?”

  “A deer in headlights.” I shake my head slowly. “How do you screw that up?”

  “It’s moose.”

  Having second thoughts about marriage now….

  “Swiss,” Kellan calls to his body guard in the front seat. “Tell her, it’s moose.”

  “As you know sir, I prefer not to join in on these conversations.” He pulls up to the last stoplight before the apartment building. There’s a very brief pause before he adds, “But it’s deer.”

  “Ha!”

  “Oh, shut up,” he huffs on a chuckle.

  I lift my left hand in his face and wiggle it. “That’s no way to talk to me.”

  He gives the ring a glance, helplessly grins, and presses his lip firmly to mine. As if the knowledge of it alone is an aphrodisiac. A small groan is grabbed from him at the same time he brushes against the jewelry.

  Unfortunately for us, Swiss announces promptly, “We’ve arrived.”

  Our lips drop and he states to his bodyguard. “This’ll be all for the day. I don’t plan on leaving the penthouse for dinner.”

  “But it’s your birthday,” I interject. “Don’t you want to throw on one of your Mark Twain suits-”

  “Markay-”

  “-and your Panni oxloads-”

  “Banini oxfords-”

  “-and go have filet mignon?”

  With a smile plastered on his face, he denies, “No, love. I want us to be in our birthday suits for what remains of the day. When you need a break from me feasting on you we can order in.” The whimpered response shifts his bottom lip between his teeth in a pleased expression. Our eyes linger for a moment before he tosses his face towards the door. “Shall we?”

  We bid Swiss goodbye and swiftly make our way to the private elevator. Inside, our bodies instantly gravitate towards one another, my back pressed firmly against the wall with his lips locked onto my neck. His tongue mercilessly massages the spot, hips nailing me in place when my body threatens to melt from the simple satisfaction of having his lips back on me where they belong.

  The elevator halts and he grumbles his irritation with having to stop to swipe his keycard.

  That’s all his fault. He had to pick the tallest tower with the craziest security. I would’ve been content living on a normal floor. Then again, I really love having a pool, balcony, and no neighbors to complain about how loud sex is. And you better believe tonight is one of those nights where the latter is most important.

  Once the penthouse door shuts behind us, I watch him toss his jacket to the side. He proceeds to undress and I pretend to object to what it is we both truly want. “Shouldn’t we talk first?”

  He stops unbuttoning his Alice blue shirt. “Are you kidding?”

  Sh. Don’t laugh. I want him to buy this!

  When I don’t immediately admit it, he runs a hand through his blonde hair and whines, “But it’s my birthday. Can’t we wait to have an adult discussion until we’ve at least gone one round?”

  I drop a hand onto my hip. “Wouldn’t it better if we got everything out in the open now, so we could fully enjoy ourselves later?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t think sex would be even better once we confessed all the pent-up emotions from the past few weeks?”

  “No…”

  “We should talk about what we did while we were apart.”

  “Wallow in misery.”

  “I think we should sit down and discuss our future-”

  “Marriage. Discussion over.”

  “The merging of our families-”

  His eyes cut me a suspicious glare. “They’ll cope.”

  My mouth drops to fake another argument, but stops as he undoes another button revealing the cut chest I can’t wait to touch.

  It’s like it’s been digitally altered to be perfect. No one should be that flawless without some sort of computer enhancement program.

  He cocks a smirk at the sight of my fingers twitching from desire to drag themselves down it. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

  I giggle and back up slowly. “Absolutely.”

  His steps and expression become more predatory than angry. “You’re going to be the one spanked on my birthday.”

  With a challenging smirk, I state, “Doubtful.”

  A deep, delicious growl is set free before he lunges at me. His arms swiftly imprison me preventing any sort of chance to flee. Our mouths mesh and his tongue entangles mine with enough force to knock me backwards against the door frame we’re passing by. Rather than be startled by the action, it fuels his hunger, and he yanks me hard into him. His finger slowly grazes my chest until it lands on my nipple. He delicately sweeps his thumb back and forth, building a harsher ache between my legs. Kellan smiles mischievously against my mouth between kisses. He pins my body with his, the feeling of his hard-on pressed against me answering the question my pussy is weeping to know. My thighs attempt to clench tighter together to prevent my soaking wet panties from giving away our beyond aroused state.

  However, the moment Kellan’s fingers slip underneath my dress, the truth is exposed, and he greedily groans, “Seems your body missed me too, love.”

  I prepare to make a snarky comeback when his finger effortlessly slides inside preventing the possibility. Instantly, my moan is swallowed by him in desperation to conquer everything about me he can.

  And I am more than willing to let him.

  In what feels like
a single breath our clothes are congregating on the floor and our bodies falling onto our king-sized bed. His mouth embarks on a journey to consume every inch it can reach during the processes of rolling me over and up onto my knees.

  Kellan’s large frame blankets mine from behind as he leans over to declare against my ear, “I’m the only one who will ever reign over this body, duchess.”

  The words aren’t allowed time to truly sink in before he sharply thrusts inside. An erotic cry falls from my lips at the intrusion, yet my pussy pleads for more. An animalistic sound of starvation seeps from him into the depths of me. All of a sudden his fingers dig into my hips harshly as he rocks ruthlessly. Every buck of his hips is accompanied with a raw, ragged breath. I push back into each passionate pump, my own breath hitching at the feverish blows. My pussy quivers in an endless cycle of being overwhelmed and overly insistent on more. The constant intensity of pleasure has my body collapsing onto the bed despite the fact neither of us are anywhere near finished. Kellan doesn’t allow the unforeseen change of position to falter his actions. He nudges my legs wide and continues diving. The friction from constantly crushing my clit against the mattress assists the climb to ecstasy. With one hand bracing himself up, the other winds around my wavy hair.

  He tugs it gently and states, “Your body is my kingdom now princess, and I swear to always worship it.”

  The lustful vow ignites the wick of the impending orgasm. My bottom lip slips between my teeth to catch the scream.

  Kellan groans fiercely at the familiar feeling. In a lower, carnal tone he commands, “Come for me, love. Give me what is rightfully mine.”

  After one final plunge, my orgasm shatters and I’m sent whirling into a beautiful, chaotic abyss of salacious sighs. Kellan falls apart with me, scorching burst after burst breaking through my current climax to kindle another. Our harmony of heavy howls eventually dwindles down to wistful whispers as our bodies finally reach a mutual point of satiation.

  His body rolls off to lie beside mine and the immediate loss is an emptiness I hate.

  I want that closeness, that unity all the time. After three weeks of being separated by the goddamn ocean, I want him as physically close as possible at any given time. We’re talking take off your shoes and climb into my soul close. Ugh. That sounds needy…That’ll pass right? I mean it has to.

  Kellan’s lips land on the side of my neck while his arm drapes around my waist. I softly coo, “Welcome back…”

  “Home truly is wherever you are, love.”

  Just as I begin to smile, his tongue teases the tip of my earlobe and he rocks his stiffening cock against my ass. I giggle, “Again?”

  Kellan hums, “Yes.”

  Without my consent my body rubs against his growing member. “Seriously? Already?”

  He delivers another light lick before he states, “There are three weeks to make up for.” All of a sudden he cups my ass and adds, “And birthday spankings to deliver…”

  At this rate I’m going to come so many times I won’t even remember if it’s his birthday or mine…

  After copious amounts of orgasms for both of us, we take a small break to order pizza and to let our bodies recuperate before returning to the best work out a man could ask for.

  Of course ordering damn near required a lawyer within itself to get settled. Even on my bloody birthday, she’s over the top stubborn. Tell me, really, what’s wrong with enjoying spinach and pineapple on a pizza?

  Brie lets out a massive yawn and nuzzles her face against my bare chest. With a proud grin, I question, “Satisfied?”

  She gives me a small shrug. “For now.”

  I helplessly chortle at her attitude. “I can go again, you know.”

  “I’m sure you can ‘the little engine that could’-”

  “Nothing about my engine is little, thank you very much.”

  Brie grumbles, “Me and my pussy are well aware of that.”

  See.

  There’s a small shift of her body in an attempt to get more comfortable. “I can’t believe this is how you really spent your 30th birthday.”

  I glance down at her. “Why?”

  She meets my eyes. “You mean aside from the fact it’s this huge milestone birthday that should consist of beer, strippers, and questionable decisions?”

  “It’s my birthday not my stag party.”

  Which I will be having now that I’m getting married…Holy shit. I’m gonna get married…

  Brie begins to say something yet stops herself. “What? What the hell is a stag party?”

  “What a male has before he gets married.”

  “You mean a bachelor party.”

  “Stag.”

  “That sounds like you’re mispronouncing an insult.”

  “Bachelor party sounds like something that involves baking cookies!”

  She shakes her head slowly at me, her smirking growing with each passing second. “Our poor children. They’re going to grow up so confused…” I lightly laugh with her. Afterwards she questions, “Is that even something you want some day? Do you even get a choice? Is there some law of the land that says you have to produce an heir?”

  My eyebrows furrow. “What year do you think it is?”

  Brie gives me a small elbow to the ribs and sits completely up to face me.

  I fake a wince, chuckle, and say, “No. There’s no law that says I have to impregnate a woman by my 35th birthday or lose my inheritance. Besides, I’m second born, there’s no immediate need for me to have a child to pass an entire kingdom on to. But I do want children someday. At least I think I do. I love the idea of them with you…What do you think? Do you want them someday?”

  She taps her finger to her chin in a mocking fashion.

  I’ve already spanked her for fucking with me once today…Shall I do it again? What do you mean did she like it? Of course. A good swat on the ass is welcomed in the best sex situations. What else are asses for besides swatting, thumbing, and fucking? Language too filthy for you? May I advise you stay clear of my impending stag party then?

  “As long as they have your accent and my vocabulary…I think I can handle kids with you.”

  My fingers tickle her sides briefly before I push my lips against hers. They only linger for a moment. “I don’t care who they sound like as long as they’re ours.”

  Brie gives me a sweet smile. “Me either…”

  The two of us settle back into our previous cuddling position. I drag my fingertips up and down her arm gently while she seems to longingly stare at the addition to her left hand.

  Hardly can believe it myself. More so because if you would’ve asked me a year ago did I ever think I’d fall in love, I would’ve made a snobby retort and implied it might be time for you to attend rehab. But that’s life isn’t it? Unpredictable. For the longest time I just assumed it would work against me. Continue to take away things or people I loved and adored. I even tried to counter it by being spontaneous, going out of my way to enjoy every luxury I possibly could, but it still won in the end. Except this time it gave me exactly who I needed. I just hope the next extremely unpredictable circumstances will also be beneficial.

  “So really,” she starts again between yawns. “Shouldn’t you be at a huge birthday ball? Like the one in Cinderella that Prince Charming had but with a better suit.”

  That was God awful attire wasn’t it? I know. I know. Time periods and such, but still. Dreadful.

  I smile at the question. “If I’m Prince Charming-”

  “Oh you’re not,” Brie quickly corrects. “I said like him. You’re more Prince Sleazy than charming.”

  My face falls. “You do know it’s my birthday-”

  “Hard to forget-”

  “-and I am entitled to a certain amount of kindness?”

  Brie denies the statement with a shake of the head. “Not in this country.”

  I roll my eyes. “To answer your question there was a party held in celebration of my birthday. It was yesterday.�
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  “Why not on your actual birthday?”

  “Originally, I had intended the two of us spending today on a private beach somewhere with you naked, feeding me strawberries.”

  She snaps her head up at me. “Why would I be naked on a beach?”

  “It’s my birthday why would you wear clothes?”

  The counter causes her to giggle. “Ugh. And you were worried about me being a birthday brat.”