by Xavier Neal
I let my eyes lower to a glare. “No one should enjoy picking out napkin rings as much as that woman does.”
She lives and breathes weddings. Loves every little detail and has a very hard time understanding those of us who don’t.
“Can’t guarantee how much of her meetings I can be around for, but I swear I will not let you pick cake alone.”
A hint of a smile hits my lips.
“Last thing we need is only chocolate as an option.”
“Why would we ever get anything else?”
“Do you know there are people in the world who are allergic to chocolate?”
“Do you know those people can skip dessert?”
Kellan lightly laughs and pulls me closer to him. “Do you know I am relieved to hear you still want to have our wedding?”
Our mouths close the distance between us. His tongue softly entraps mine while his fingers wind through the back of my hair. Eagerness envelopes both of us yet Kellan’s movements remain calm. Unsure of why the rest of his body is exuding resistance, I grind my crotch against his, the building dampness more than evident.
He hesitates to pull back. “Love, I….I want makeup sex, believe me-”
“Then prove it.”
Kellan groans again as his dick darts upward ready to do it without him. “I-”
Suddenly there’s a knock at the door proceeded with, “Prince Kellan. Your items as requested.”
He gives me a sweet look. “It’s not work.”
“Then can’t it wait?”
“Technically it can but-”
Hearing all the information I needed, I mount his lips again, this time taking control.
It’s been like three days since we’ve had the time to do more than a rise and lick sort of situation.
Kellan doesn’t fight my tongue for dominance. He merely growls into my mouth and enjoys the long, hard strokes he’s being delivered.
One of the servants repeats his knock and he breaks away just long enough to breathlessly reply, “Leave it outside the door please!”
Our tongues connect again with more fervor than before. In one delicious motion, he leans back, frees his cock from his suit pants, and thrusts inside of me. The entire execution is so elegant and smooth my pussy is blinded by the erotic invasion. Kellan’s hands anchor to my hips. When his lips fall from mine to release a hearty moan, I yank him back to me by the tie, and cover his mouth again. Relentlessly, I rock, my pussy feverishly pulsating to be given a climax. To be crushed. To be completely shredded and sewn back together with the release of his own orgasm. The pressure builds quickly inside of me and my forehead presses to his. Our labored breathing bounces back and forth in a tantalizing tandem that matches our desperate bodies. Kellan’s cock continues its commanding of my pussy’s surrender until I can no longer stand the pleasure.
With one additional push, I crumble, my entire body quaking as I repeatedly whimper, “Kellan…Oh…Kellan…”
He passionately confesses, “God I love that sound.”
With one last thrust, he joins me over the edge. Blazing bursts fill me to the brink. The intensity from his orgasm intertwined with our emotional connection reestablished causes additional carnal cries of relief. His groans clash against mine and we lock our bodies together in a completely sated hold.
Kellan’s first to pull back. He gives me a chaste kiss on the lips and says, “You messed up the order of the events I had planned.”
“Are you actually complaining while you’re still inside of me? That’s a ballsy move, even for you.”
He gives his body a small bounce so his testicles knock against me. “No. That’s a ballsy move.”
A juvenile laughs escapes him and I give his chest a swat.
He frowns. “That thing is like a weapon. I should’ve engraved it with mass destruction on the side.”
I roll my eyes.
He can’t possibly believe he’s actually funny.
All of a sudden there’s another knock at the door. “Prince Kellan, your brother and his wife are waiting by the front door.”
He mumbles, “Oh shit. Right!” Over my shoulder he yells, “Tell them we’ll be right down!”
“We will?” I lift my eyebrows. “Where are we going?”
His mischievous smile returns and I can’t help but silently swoon. “You’ll see…”
After Kellan and I quickly clean up, we change into the white jump suits and shoes he had brought to us. Despite my constant questions and guesses, he refrains from giving me any sort of clue as to what’s about to come.
Don’t wanna get my hopes up but…
The moment we’re in Kris’ vision, he tosses his hands in the air. “There you are! First you make us dress like painters then you keep us waiting for twenty minutes.”
“It was like seven tops,” Soph defends. She gives our hand holding a glance and grins widely. “Besides, it looks like it was worth it if everything is back on track?”
Her question is directed at me and I give her a wink for an answer.
“Brilliant,” she swoons.
“Can you please explain why we’re dressed like this?” Kris huffs again.
Kellan and I stop beside them, which is when he replies, “Because the love of my life is homesick and it is my job to get her chin back up. If that requires help from the two of you, you should be happy to oblige. After all this is the woman who is single handedly responsible for giving me something to do in my free time aside from making fun of your inability to grow a beard.”
“I can grow a beard!”
“He can’t,” his wife swiftly disagrees. “He gets all these adorable whisker hairs.”
“Gives chin pubes an entirely new meaning,” Kellan laughs and Soph joins him.
“Seriously?” He complains at her. “Why do you join his side?”
“Because he was right and it was funny,” she counters.
I push down my snicker to remind Kellan. “The wardrobe. Explain.”
“Yes, please explain what strange American tradition requires us to dress like this?”
My free hand plops on my hip. “Why do you think Americans are strange?”
He gives me a short shrug. “Because you have reality shows about surviving in countries where people already do and could use your help instead of being mocked for your viewing pleasure.”
Yeah…Was never a big Survivor fan myself.
Soph gives him a stern look. “You can’t judge an entire country based on their entertainment choices. By that definition we’re strange as well. We have an annual whale bingo competition.”
A perplexed look crawls onto my face.
What the hell is whale bingo? It can’t really be exactly like it sounds…
“It’s nothing strange,” Kellan begins. “Well, too strange anyway. When we were in the states, Brie and I did this thing called Balloon Bust where we had twenty minutes to throw paint filled balloons at one another. Whoever was the most covered in the other person’s paint, lost.”
I lean back and mouth, “He lost.”
My fiancé squeezes my hand with a smirk on his face. “I did lose, but I’m here to redeem myself. But instead of having balloons filled with watered down paint, I had some of the staff fill Super Soakers.”
Excitement instantly appears in my eyes.
“We’re going out to the rose gardens to commence this war. The rules are simple. We will each receive a weapon filled with our team’s paint colors-”
“Women vs. men?” Soph interrupts.
“Of course,” he comments and continues, “And we will have twenty minutes to do as much paint splashing on the other team as possible. Two-minute warning to strategize or hide and once the whistle has blown, you begin. When it blows again, you have two minutes to return to our referee who will declare a winner.”
“Who’s the ref?” Kris asks.
“Mathew.”
“Are there refills?” I curiously ask.
“Nope, so you bette
r shoot wisely.”
“That’ll be something new for you.”
My taunt receives a chortle and the releasing of my hand.
That one was pretty good, you gotta admit.
“We’re going to destroy the two of you,” Kellan scoffs.
“Hope you didn’t have a big lunch because you’re going to be eating those words,” I retort.
Sophia quickly throws her arm over my shoulder. “We’ll add a little sugar for you, so they’re less bitter when you do.”
Kris has a concerned expression I can’t quite place. While it doesn’t look like he’s actually afraid to lose, it is clear something is not settling with him. Before Kellan or I have a chance to question it, his wife clears her throat, and indicates to let go of whatever is holding him back.
Finally he sighs, “Alright then. Let’s show these American women what we’ve got…”
The game begins after a short ride across the property. Sophia and I flank right while the guys dart left. As we adjust our goggles, she quietly explains she knows these rose gardens better than either of them.
Me on the other hand? I’m completely lost.
We develop a plan that we believe will work and she takes my suggestion for a final trick play to heart. Mathew blows his whistle right on time. The two of us take our first position behind a set of hedges right off the main stone path. With his weapon high and close to his face like a sniper, Kris carefully marches towards us.
Like planned, Soph pops up and he immediately catches her in the corner of his vision. He shoots yet she ducks and before he has the opportunity to get another shot off, I hit him with several in the chest while she ambushes his lower half.
“What the hell!” He shouts in shock, the pink paint dripping down to his tennis shoes. “These were new!”
We giggle as we scamper off. The two of us swing the corner and are immediately seen by Kellan. He fires, nailing her right in the shoulder. She huffs as she fires back completely missing. With his attention occupied primarily on her, I lean around the arch and nail him right below the crotch.
He makes a sharp gasp and I taunt, “Tell me later, if pink balls suck as much as blue ones!”
Kellan growls, which is when Sophia takes my hand, and drags me away.
We weave around the white rose covered trellises, paint splashing on the delicate flowers during the process. Laughter echoes through the garden as the guys viciously hunt after us. Each time they finally get a successful shot off, one of us shoots them in return, covering their bodies with more damage than they initially had time to create. The two of them continue to come at us from opposite sides. Their plan of trying to trap us in the middle between them is so obvious it’s pathetic.
And this is why they’re going to end up soaked.
As predicted Kellan and Kris slowly approach what they assume is a trapped Soph.
Smugly, her husband states, “Oh no…She left you all alone?”
Kellan chuckles but keeps his eyes scanning around the area for me.
“With no weapon?” The hint of curiosity in his voice lets me know his mind is spinning.
My fiancé chimes in, “It’s like a chess move, isn’t? Sacrifice the pawn, so she can take a Knight?”
She drops her hands onto her hips. “You don’t even play bloody chess.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t know how.”
Soph rolls her eyes and I slowly inch over into position.
“We won’t have mercy on you, but we won’t aim for the face. Deal?” Her husband offers.
She shrugs. “Do what you must.”
They lift their weapons and fire. To both of their surprise, the gun spurts next to nothing. Disbelief grabs both of them and in unison they shout, “Seriously!?”
At that point, I lean completely over from behind the hedge and begin taking shots at Kellan. Soph backs up against the hedge her weapon had been nestled in and joins me in the massacre. Just shy of the whistle blow, the two of them are sulking from being completely covered in pink paint.
Soph and I clasp a victory high five and giggle together over their deplorable loss.
When we arrive in front of Mathew, he merely tilts his head to the side. He hesitates before he asks, “Prince Kellan, Prince Kristopher, do you really need me to judge this competition?”
The men grump yet Kellan is first to actually speak. “No. Because the women cheated!”
“We did not!” We shriek together.
“You used weird tricks when it was supposed to be a straight shooting competition,” Kris complains alongside his brother.
Noted. The Kenningston men do not lose well.
An argument breaks out between the four of us. Childish name calling and over dramatic mocking occur until there’s a loud, unexpected clearing of someone’s throat.
We all sharply turn to see Kenneth standing beside Mathew with his arms folded across his chest.
Oh shit…
Our mouths clamp shut. His eyes oscillate back and forth between us, before he asks, “What the hell are you four doing in the rose garden?”
We all send our attention straight to Kellan and hide the weapons behind our backs.
He casually explains, “We were simply….burning off a little steam.”
His father nods then give his sons’ attire another look. “You two got beat by women?”
“They cheated!” Kris insists loudly.
“Just because we out smarted you doesn’t mean we cheated! How do you think wars are won?!” I counter.
Kenneth takes a step forward with his eyes planted on me.
We haven’t exactly bonded. Not that there’s really been time too. We share the occasional meal as a family, but most of the time he’s out of the city or the country. Kellan wasn’t exaggerating when he mentioned his father was rarely around. While I don’t get the warm fuzzies like he adores me, I can honestly say I don’t feel like he hates me, which is amazing considering what his son marrying me is putting his entire family through. Maybe we should make time to get to know each other better? How do I do that? Suggestions? Probably not destroying his rose garden, huh?
“I’m equally impressed that you beat them fair and square and that you chose to handle your frustrations in a private manner as opposed to a public one.”
The compliment sends my jaw to the floor.
“Which is more than I can say for my son who had a meltdown in the middle of an art exhibit.”
Unsure of what he’s referring to or what else to say I quietly state, “Thank you.”
He gives me a curt nod before announcing to all of us, “Now please get tidied for dinner. We will be dining downtown with the Rossellas.”
All three of them groan together.
Cautiously I ask, “Who are the Rossellas?”
“I’ll tell you all about them and the public outburst Kenneth was referring to during our victory walk back,” Soph says.
“Ride back,” Kenneth surprises us again with his correction. “For being sore losers, the boys can walk.”
“Father!” They shout in tandem.
He gestures his hand for us to follow him.
We hook arms, hand our empty weapons to Mathew, and bounce off together, laughter pouring out of us profusely.
Definitely an adjustment living here, but I think with a few afternoons like this, it’ll be a lot easier to one day call this place home.
I lean over Brie’s shoulder and curiously ask, “What are you working on?”
She tosses the pink pastel to the side and cleans her finger. “Just a little something…”
A smile slips onto my face. “Is that supposed to be Amelia?”
Brie beams up at me proudly. “It is.”
“Remarkable,” I commend at the drawing she’s done of the child. The picture has her aged to be a young woman, but the distinct delicate features clearly belong to the girl. “Down to the little freckles on her nose.”
My fiancé sweetly hums, leans back in her seat, an
d pulls her jean covered legs to her chest.
“Why’s she wearing a blue ball gown?”
“It’s the dress from Frozen.”