by Xavier Neal
He lightly laughs before winking. “A different question.”
“What’s that?”
“What’s your dream wedding like?”
The question takes me off guard. “What?”
“Your dream wedding. As in if I wasn’t a prince-”
“But you are-”
“But if I wasn’t, what would you envision for the two of us?”
A frown appears. “Why?”
“Because I asked.”
“Yeah…but why?”
He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Humor me.”
“Television would be easier for that.” When he glowers in return, I sigh, “Fine. In the pretend world where you weren’t a prince, I would want to get married at the gallery we met at.”
The corners of his lips slowly lift. “Dana still loves that hideous painting.”
I gag. “I try not to hold her terrible taste in art against her.”
“All art is terrible.”
“Except the painting you bought that you swear looks just like me.”
“It does!”
“Kellan, it looks like a horde of Smurfs sneezed on the canvas in unison. It looks nothing like me.”
“To me it does. And you’ve always sworn true art is about how it matters to the individual.”
“Which is why I’m going to let you hang it in our house or penthouse or wing or wherever it is we will live that is outside of this room.”
I’m really not even sure. Soph and Kris have their own private cabin built on the property, but because Kellan isn’t next in line for the throne. I’m not certain how important it is we stick close to the palace.
“House,” he casually answers. “But we will sort those details out later. Tell me more about this wedding.”
On an annoyed grunt, I reach over and grab a piece of bacon. “Seriously, Kellan. Why? Why talk about a wedding we will never have when there’s a wedding already waiting for our attention?”
His eyes soften and he quietly implores in an irresistible way, “Please.”
Are those actual twinkles in his eyes again?!
After swallowing, I brace myself against the headboard. “We would still get married on New Year’s Eve because I want to start the new year as husband and wife. It’d be decorated in whites, grays, and various shades of blue.”
“Why blue?”
“To match your eyes. The place I feel safest in.”
He looks like he wants to swoon.
Ha. See. I’m smooth too.
“We’d write our own vows that didn’t sound archaic. I’d wear a dress my mother was actually around to help me pick out…We’d be surrounded by our family and close friends only instead of a Super Bowl Stadium amount of people. We’d have your favorite steak, my favorite mashed potatoes, and our wedding cake would be chocolate, though vegetable bread would be the alternative option for those with weaker immune systems.” Kellan laughs loudly and I continue, “We’d dance to some crummy DJ who would be puzzled by our odd mix of music. We’d share drinks and laughs and kiss as the ball drops before calling it a night.” The sparkle in his eyes returns. “I know it doesn’t sound exquisite, but-”
“It sounds perfect,” he disagrees.
“Simple.”
Kellan shakes his head slowly. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. Could I still wear my custom designed tux?”
In an overdramatic voice I assure, “I would never take that away from you…”
He gives me a small nudge before declaring, “Then that’s going to be our wedding.”
Did someone slip something into his coffee this morning? Don’t call it a latte! It’s still coffee!
“That’s going to be our wedding and the only things you have to do are pick out a dress with your mother and write your vows.” My mouth cracks open to argue when he continues, “For all those who already received an invitation, we will have a reception in our honor here for them to celebrate. Cassandra can finish arranging that. As for our actual wedding, we’re going to have the one you want. I’ll do all the heavy lifting for it.”
“Kellan-”
“Let me do this for you.” His fingers fold with mine. “For us. Let me prove to you exactly how much I appreciate you and everything you’ve been through with me.”
“But what about the traditional-”
“To bloody hell with tradition,” he chuckles in an unfamiliar way.
Kinda came out like an old-school cartoon villain, right?
“My father and I had a very long talk last night about…everything, including out of date traditions. He’s done with them. We, as the Kenningstons, are done with them. What a better way to declare that than with the wedding his bride, who inspired a country to have a change of heart about where their values should truly be placed, actually wants?”
An unexpected inability to breathe comes over me. He simply watches on, waiting for some sort of answer, which is when I barely stammer out, “I-I-I-I don’t know what to say.”
He leans his body forward. “Say yes and I’ll take care of the rest.”
I pause in hopes that something more romantic or profound will appear in my mind yet nothing seems better than the answer he’s requesting. Breathlessly, I agree, “Yes.”
Kellan’s mouth swiftly captures mine. He slips one hand around the nape of my neck and gently helps lie me back down onto the bed. Our mouths part, but our tongues only briefly touch before he’s pulling away. His lips slowly drag themselves down, caressing my cheek, my chin, and my collarbone with soft, firm presses.
He gives the blanket a sharp tug out of his way. The moment my chest is exposed, his hand wraps warmly around my boob, and he gives the hardening nub in the center a gentle stroke. I whimper, which causes him to smugly smirk. “I’m thinking for our honeymoon, perhaps an island?” Kellan sucks my nipple into his mouth and rolls his tongue languorously around it. The light laps ignite a familiar need between my thighs. With an abrupt dismissal, he lets go, and moves to the opposite side. “Perhaps a different island?” He duplicates the previous action with the same leisurely speed. Thoughtlessly I wind my fingers through the back of his hair and repeat the whimpers for more. For what feels like hours, Kellan’s mouth journeys around the sensitive skin on my chest. None of his movements are rushed. None of them cloaked in his usual impatience to be inside of me. It’s as if I’ve become a delicate treasure that needs polishing with care rather than caught prey to be ravished. The unforeseen shift in behavior adds to the throbbing ache I’m anxiously waiting for him to soothe. By the time his mouth finally latches onto mine again, my entire body is trembling with a heart stopping hunger. My tongue busies itself with imprisoning his while my hands hastily help free him from the clothing confinement standing between us and countless orgasms.
Once Kellan’s naked and wedged between my parted legs, he returns to the previous teasing methods. He gives my bottom lip a small swipe. “So, an island?” There’s no time to answer before he rocks his shaft against my drenched entrance. “Perhaps you would prefer somewhere further south?”
I prepare to snap severely when he grants me a piece of gratification by gently guiding himself inside. My eyes immediately fall shut from the relief and a deep, erotic sound reverberates throughout our room.
The feeling of his breath in the crook of my neck causes my hips to rock upward. He gives the area a soft suck and states, “Wherever I go with you will be paradise, love…”
Devotion and desperation develop an insatiable desire that only Kellan can properly mollify. However, his actions remain controlled. Restrained. Dedicated to making this moment last as if it’s our first time all over again. With long, deep thrusts, he steadily drags me into a delicious state of delirium. Every stroke receives a hearty moan to which he gives a throaty match. Our bodies continuously crash together, collecting our short, sensual breaths as collateral.
Hearing the sound of his groan become more strangled is the indicator it’s time to free the climax I w
as clutching onto. I lift my hips once more and let my head fall back in a lustful cry. “Kellan…”
My pussy swells around his cock, searing my love, my reverence, and my endless appreciation into him. It thrums in tandem with my panting. All of a sudden, Kellan’s head falls forward and lands powerfully on my shoulder. A rush of white hot heat seals our orgasms together and we fall into a surreal nirvana as one.
Our life together may always be complicated. It may always be a fit of complex compromises and a struggle to achieve an actual balance that suits us both, but as long as we’re this connected on a level this deep and our souls remain this devout, we can handle anything the world throws at us.
“You’re sure I should go without the tie?” I ask as I adjust the collar of my black suit jacket once more. “You’re sure this doesn’t look too relaxed?”
Do you think I need a tie?
“Kellan, you could be wearing Bermuda shorts, a tank top, and carrying around a red plastic cup filled with cheap beer and you still wouldn’t look relaxed.”
My body shifts against the door in the SUV to give her a perplexed look. “Are you saying that even looking like a frat boy on spring holiday I would still manage to look classy or are you saying that I look so uptight right now my attire doesn’t matter?”
Brie gives me a sweet head tilt. “Yes.”
I let my jaw drop to scoff, which is when she breaks out in a fit of giggles.
Vincent and Nikolas try to mask their own chuckles through poorly timed coughs.
Why is everyone laughing? This is a serious matter! For the first time since I began creating Hannah’s Hope it may stop being essentially a pipe dream and actually become a reality. God, is it hot in here? Should I be sweating this profusely? Is my cologne even going to be smelled over that stench?
“Relax,” Brie commands, her ring hand reaching over to connect our fingers. “You’re being overly nervous. Like you cheated on your taxes and now you’re being audited by the biggest asshole at the IRS kind of nervous.”
“This is a huge opportunity.”
“It is. But nervous Kellan isn’t charming Kellan and charming Kellan always seals the deal.”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “Like this morning?”
A blush tints her beautiful face. The light make up she’s wearing is not enough to hide it..
Very glad she chose to come along and opted for a look that’s more ‘her’ than ‘royal her’. While I’ve developed a love of the cocktail dresses and an even greater love of seeing those heels in the air, I actually prefer my Brie. The one I fell in love with. The one in her old faded jeans and paint stained university sweatshirt. Even now in her light gray, oversized long sleeve sweater dress that she’s paired with the black converse I bought her for the trip to the zoo, and her wavy brown hair pulled to one side of her face, she looks more like the woman I asked to spend the rest of my life with than if she were ‘dressed to impress’ like I am. This version of Brie is the one I need today. This is the one that the children in the hospital love to laugh with. The one that the volunteers and employees at MINOH relate to so easily. The one bloggers adore and commenters gush over. The one that’s going to be the heart of Hannah’s Hope as much as my mother herself. Oh hell…I must be nervous. I’m mawkish like I’m the one with pregnancy hormone problems.
Her eyes cut to the two security guards in the front seat a glance. “You do know they can hear you?”
I smirk.
Brie tugs the dress down closer to her bare knees capturing my attention.
First thing we’re doing when we get back is having a quickie with her in that thing. It keeps toying with my attention. It’s also making me hate the mild fall we seem to be having. I honestly already hate mild falls because it often means, a frigid winter. Not even the type with snow and a wonderland Christmas. Just dark and obnoxiously cold. Though I do enjoy trench coat shopping…
“I wish Soph was coming,” she sighs looking back up. “You know that way I wouldn’t feel like the girl being dragged to the boy’s club.”
If I knew who we were meeting I could better reassure her why that statement could possibly be false. And no. I still have no idea who this mystery donor is. Each time I’ve tried to bring it up, Kristopher quickly insists, it’s best that we don’t discuss it beforehand and switches subjects. I won’t lie. I’m beginning to wonder how much I possibly hate the person we’re meeting.
“Having her there was definitely the original plan,” I state as our eyes connect again. “But Kristopher says it’s best if she stays home. After she threw an empty tissue box at his head last night while watching Steel Magnolias in a fit of tears, he decided it would be in our best interest, if she weren’t there just in case another outburst occurred.”
Brie hides her giggle.
“Who knew a film about flowers could be so devastating?”
My fiancé scrunches her face. “Please tell me you don’t actually think that movie is about flowers.”
“It’s in the title.”
The vehicle comes to a halt at the valet station. “Let me get this straight. You judge me because I didn’t know the difference between ales and lagers, but you don’t even know that classic movie isn’t about flowers?”
I can’t be the only person in the entire world who believes that it is….Are you laughing at me? Are you laughing at me or this ludicrous discussion?
Nikolas opens the door and helps Brie out of the vehicle. The four of us stroll inside the posh café and are immediately directed to the patio section where Kristopher is sitting under a giant umbrella. Brie and I make our way to him, leaving Nikolas to watch us from the other side of the glass door while Vincent is seated at a table behind us. Keith, Kris’ security detail is at a table slightly to our right.
Thank goodness the goal wasn’t to be inconspicuous.
We greet my brother warmly before sitting down in the seats across from him.
Brie immediately notices the nick underneath his left eye. Instinctively, she winces. “Ouch…Is that where she got you?”
His face turns a slight shade of pink from embarrassment. “Yes…”
“Pathetic you can’t even beat up a box of Kleenex.”
Brie pops me in the arm and he growls, “I was basically sucker punched.”
“By cardboard.”
The look of frustration grows. “You just wait until Brie is pregnant and her hormones come out with a vengeance.”
Brie and I exchange glances before quickly shaking our heads in unison.
With a chortle, I lean back in my seat, and deny, “We’ll be passing for the time being. Practicing is enough for now.”
Kristopher rolls his eyes as the waitress places four water glasses down on the table.
Before I have a chance to ask where our guest is, I receive my answer. A woman with long, pitch black hair, in a tight, red, long sleeve dress, struts herself enthusiastically our direction. Her slender face brings back as many memories as her slender figure that doesn’t appear to have changed.
Kristopher jumps to his feet to greet her while Brie grumbles under her breath beside me. “Who the hell is that?”
I let out a deep sigh. “That is Felicity Malone.” My eyes travel to Brie’s, which are swimming in curiosity. After a small hesitation, I quietly add, “She’s an ex of mine.”
The look darkens. “An ex-girlfriend?”
“Not quite…”
Felicity interrupts the conversation, tosses her head to one side, and coos, “Oh Kellan, how I’ve missed you.”
There’s an unmistakable growl of disapproval beside me and I bite my tongue.
And to think I was finally beginning to believe things were about to get better for me instead of so much worse...
Wonder what's in store next for Duke Kellan Kenningston and Brie Sanders?
Don’t worry! They shall return before you know it in their final book. “Royally Duched Up”.
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Classic (Adrenaline Series #1)
Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. They fall in love and live happily ever after, right? That is unless boy is a criminal and girl is the daughter of the man trying to catch him. With circumstances this unforgiving, is there anyway their love story will have an ending that we've come to know as classic?
*Warning: Cliffhanger. This is the first in the series* *The series is complete*