The Royal Rogue

by Karina Halle

“And I promise you won’t have to wait long,” she says, leaning back against the edge of the pool, her neck arching to expose her throat, her breasts pushed up as her bikini top falls away. Her breasts already seem fuller and the water dripping off of them reflects the orange glow of the sunset.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like this.

  She’s transcendent.

  I bend my head and lick up and down her breasts, tasting her, flicking her nipple with my tongue, making her moan over and over again until she starts to shake with impatience, wanting more. Always wanting more.

  She takes more.

  She wraps her legs around me, holding me in place and I realize I’ve never felt this way before. Not just in my body, but in a place I didn’t think existed.

  These feelings aren’t alone, though. My body is a battleground, the urge to come is frighteningly strong while the rest of me wants to drown in the pleasure. The world around us is being painted in a million shades of color, some I don’t think even exist on an earthly spectrum.

  “I need you,” she calls out, her voice is desperate and soft and warm all at once. “I need you Orlando.”

  My name never sounded so sweet.

  “You have me, little star,” I tell her. “You have me.”

  “Then come inside me,” she says, lifting her head enough so that I’m staring into her lustful gaze, her face shadowed and backlit by the sunset, but her eyes still blue and clear enough that they shine. I think I could see her eyes anywhere, even on the blackest, coldest nights.

  I reach down and untie the sides of her bikini bottoms until they’re floating to the bottom of the pool, then I grab her ass and haul her up higher so she’s level with my twitching cock.

  “I suppose I should be more of a gentleman now that you’re pregnant,” I remark. “May I please fuck your gorgeous brains out?”

  “Yes you fucking may,” she says.

  I grin like a madman before I slam my cock into her.

  Thankfully, she’s even wetter than the warm water around us, because I slide in to what feels like blissful silk.

  “Oh god!” she cries out, her back arching, the sun disappearing behind the horizon as I drive my cock in deeper and deeper.

  Oh god is right. This right here is a religious experience, the kind that you have once and it changes you forever. I’m being fucking assaulted from all angles as I fuck her. The colors of the sky, the roar of the waves, the weightlessness of the water, the slick silk of her cunt as I thrust faster, harder. My nerves are on fire, coiling inside me, begging for sweet release.

  I’m not coming until she is though.

  I’m not coming until I’ve brought her to another level.

  Until she feels exactly what I feel.

  The hunger surges through me again, fueled by a type of desire that seems to come from somewhere ancestral. Primal. I’ve already laid my claim to this woman and yet that doesn’t stop me from trying to imprint myself even further.

  She’s carrying my child.

  The feelings I have for her are so complex it seems almost unnavigable.

  But here, right now, pumping myself into her, the water in the pool splashing around us in waves, the way that her mouth is open as she cries my name, the feel of her heels as they dig into my back, all of this is coming together in a way that shines with clarity.

  I’d told her the other day that we were meant to be.

  But those words sound so trite.

  They aren’t enough.

  They don’t convey what’s real.

  It’s not just that we’re meant to be. It’s not even that this is fate. It’s that this has always existed in some place, maybe inside us, maybe in the stars, but it’s existed. That’s why it feels like I know her, because I do know her and she knows me.

  Fuck, maybe this is all my cock talking right now, but this, us, together, it shines a light on something that seemed in the dark before.

  Purpose.

  She is my purpose.

  This baby is my purpose.

  And I’m going to do my best not to fuck it up.

  I’ll start by making her come harder than she has in a long time.

  I slide my hand between her legs, but before I can even rub against her clit, she’s already coming, just from my cock alone.

  “Orlando!” she cries out, her hands gripping the edge of the pool until her knuckles turn white. “Oh fuck me!”

  Her eyes pinch shut hard and she lets out a strangled cry as she starts to come around me, her body jerking in the water as she’s taken to another place. With the sky on fire, the rest of her perfect body dark and reflective, I don’t think I’ll ever see such a gorgeous sight again.

  It’s enough to push me over.

  I start pistoning my hips into her hips, faster, harder, undeterred by the force of the water. I just slam into her, over and over until I can’t control myself anymore. The orgasm rips through me, going off like dynamite, wild and explosive.

  “Fuck!” The cry is deep and straight from my gut and I almost feel like my spine is being ripped out of me, leaving me boneless and demolished and unbelievably high. It’s like I’m among the clouds already, soaking in the colors, unable to come down.

  Holy fuck.

  That was . . .

  I try to swallow, to breathe, to remember where I am so I don’t drown.

  I reach out and grab Stella, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her to me.

  To my surprise there are tears in her eyes. Or maybe it’s just the water from the pool.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her softly, taking my thumb and wiping the tears away.

  She nods ever so slightly. “I . . . I think so.”

  I lean in and rub the tip of my nose against hers. “That was something.”

  “Just something?” she asks quietly.

  I smile. “No. It was everything.”

  She smiles back, but there a tinge of sadness in it, like it’s fading to night at the same time as the sky.

  I kiss her softly on the lips, not wanting to pull away, wanting to keep her close to me.

  “We’re going to be okay,” I whisper to her.

  Her throat bobs as she swallows hard. I can see her pulse beating wildly, matching the beat of my own heart. “How?”

  “I don’t know. But I know we are.”

  “We’re still strangers in a way.”

  “That feeling won’t last forever. It hasn’t for me. Deep inside, we know each other, Stella. Sometimes time isn’t a factor at all. We’re one and the same and I’m in this with you. I promise you I am.”

  I promise you I am.

  Chapter 11

  Stella

  Everything is grey.

  September moved in with blustery, cold gales from the North Sea, pushing away the last remains of summer, the sun turning to cloud, and the memory of Orlando and I on Cyprus, caught in that heady heat, seems like nothing but a dream.

  You know, except when you wake up from the dream, you’re still pregnant.

  I’ve been back for a couple of weeks now and, during that time, my life has changed immensely.

  At Aksel and Aurora’s urging (more like nagging), I decided to pack up some of our stuff and temporarily move into the royal palace with them. My brother said I’d need all the help and support I could get, and as stubborn as I am, I knew he was right. It would just be until after the baby is born, plus I get Dr. Bonakov on call and all the privacy I can ever need. That’s going to come in especially handy once I start showing. Lord knows I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere in England before the paparazzi finds me and starts writing one million articles about who the baby daddy could be.

  On the other hand, I don’t think they would ever in a million years imagine that it was Orlando. The Single Mom Princess and The Royal Rogue don’t really seem to go together.

  I’m still not sure if we do. That’s something I’ve been grappling with ever since we parted ways, exactly how much I want to keep
him in my life and how involved I want him to be. I know he said he wanted this to work, but I have no idea how that’s possible when he’s still with his fake girlfriend and his family still has the pressure on him to marry her.

  I mean, even now, there’s no denying that we have chemistry together and we’re best when we’re rolling beneath the sheets. But all of that isn’t enough to sustain a pregnancy or marriage. I’m not expecting the two of us to be a couple or to fall in love. This isn’t a romance. But it does make me wonder if what we have is enough to survive everything that’s going to be thrown our way.

  Because, believe me, I think things are about to get exponentially hard.

  “Do you think the girls at school will like me?” Anya asks. We’re in the back of the limo heading from Copenhagen airport to the palace. The moving truck already came and dropped off some of our stuff, we are the last to arrive.

  I give her a sympathetic look and put my arm around her. “Everyone loves you Anya.” I kiss the top of her head. “You know, we don’t have to move here. It’s never too late. We can always go back.”

  “But then I don’t get a horse,” she says. “And I really want my horse.”

  I had wanted to stay in England for Anya’s sake, since she was so into her riding and I had no idea how I was going to explain why we were even moving to begin with. But when I broached the subject with her, she decided to turn into a supreme negotiator.

  She didn’t even ask why we were moving. She just wanted to know if this meant she could finally have a cat.

  I told her no.

  No.

  Especially after seeing what a pain in the ass Sir Mokey of Monaco was and how often I was sneezing around him (I was).

  She then asked if she could get a horse. Said it would help her when she got sad from missing all her old schoolmates. Help her cope with the stress of the move.

  If she doesn’t grow up to be a lawyer, I’m going to be severely disappointed.

  So I promised her a horse, and after that it was smooth sailing. Funny that.

  “Is the horse worth it if you miss all your friends?” I ask.

  She looks up at me and grins cheekily from ear to ear. “Yes. Besides, I didn’t like anyone at that school. They all made fun of my accent. At least here I’ll fit in. And I’ll be going to the same school as Clara and Freja, so they’ll know how to deal with a princess.”

  She’s probably right about that, though I’m a little miffed she played that “I’ll miss all my friends” card when it wasn’t true. Future lawyer, indeed.

  We get to the palace and are immediately greeted and fussed over by everyone—Maja, Aurora, the head maid Agnes, Henrik and Johan. They’ve all been informed about my “condition,” though none of the children have. I’ll obviously have the talk with Anya soon, and Clara and Freja, but not until I’m ready.

  “How are you, Your Highness?” Agnes says, putting her hand to my forehead. “You seem flushed. That’s not good.”

  “Stella, you really shouldn’t be flying in your condition,” Maja says. “A boat would have been safer.”

  “You’re glowing,” Henrik says to me. “I’ll bring the guitar out later and show you this lullaby I wrote.”

  “Everyone, please,” Aksel’s deep voice booms as he comes in and starts pulling people away from me. “Back away from my sister.”

  “I’m fine,” I tell him, and then smile at the others. “I’m fine.”

  “What’s your condition?” Anya asks.

  I look down to see her staring up at me.

  With my eyes I tell everyone to shut up about the whole thing and then give Anya a quick smile. “No condition. Everything is fine. Why don’t you find the girls and the pig and go play.”

  “Yaaaay,” she yells out, and then runs off down the hall. That was easy.

  “You do look glowing though,” Aurora says, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Your condition really suits you.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her. “The nausea has gone away too, so that’s a start.”

  “Everything is going to be fine now,” Maja says reassuringly. “You made the right move in coming back here.”

  I glance at Aksel. “Can’t say I wasn’t pressured into it.”

  “You know it’s for the best,” he says. “Come on, let’s get you to your room. You must be exhausted.”

  “I’m, like, only seven weeks pregnant Aksel,” I tell him. But he’s right. I am exhausted these days.

  He puts me in the same bedroom I’m usually in (same goes for Anya), so as far as moves go, this one is pretty painless. It’s familiar and it feels like home, even more so now than it did when I was a child. Back then it always felt like I was running around in someone else’s place, even if I grew up here. Here there’s a lot of my boxes from England already in the room.

  “You going to be okay?” Aurora asks me as she walks around the room, tidying things that were already tidied. That’s pretty much what palaces are, grand ornate places where people walk around tidying the same things over and over again.

  “I think so,” I tell her. “It’ll be nice to have everyone around. As much as I fought against the idea, Aksel was right.”

  She gives me a quick smile, her eyes soft. “I don’t mean about moving in with us. I mean . . . in general. With the baby. With Orlando. The future.”

  I sigh and sit down in the armchair by the window, suddenly feeling weak. If that’s a sign that I’m actually not going to be okay, then I don’t know what is.

  “I hope so,” I say in a small voice. I feel the tears teasing my eyes and I do everything I can to hold them back. I need to be strong. If I can’t be strong now, how will I ever survive this?

  “Have you talked to the prince lately?”

  The prince. I can’t believe I’m carrying the child of a prince. I know I’m a princess and all, but it sounds like a dream or a fairy tale when I think of it like that.

  I try not to think of it like that.

  “He texts me every day for updates,” I tell her. It’s true. Every morning he texts and asks how I am. The last few nights he’s texted at night, asking about my day, wishing me a good sleep.

  Under any other circumstances it would be completely romantic but now, while I think it’s especially sweet of him, I know he’s doing it because it’s expected of him. He’s the baby daddy. He’s obligated. He’s trying to fill a role, just like the other roles he has to fill.

  “And Zoya?”

  I scrunch up my face. “She’s around.”

  “Do they live together?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do they . . . sleep in the same bed?”

  I had asked Orlando that. I shake my head. “No. She has her own bedroom. He says that the last time they were intimate with each other was back when they were dating. Two years ago.”

  “And you believe him?” Aurora doesn’t look like she does.

  I shrug. “I have no reason not to. He really has been honest with me. If I ask, he tells. I’ve got a pretty good bullshit meter and I think he’s a pretty decent guy when it comes down to it. Insanely loyal. Maybe to a fault.”

  “I’ll say. To her and to his family. Imagine having the entire future of your country, not just as a country but literally existing as a country, on your shoulders? I almost feel sorry for him. All these royal lives can be majorly fucked up. It makes me even more grateful that Aksel eventually acted on his feelings. Could you imagine how my life would have gone if he hadn’t taken that chance? If he’d chosen the status quo over me? Over us?” She gestures out the window to the palace courtyard. “I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have this conversation with you. I wouldn’t have known the joys of being a mother, of being married—”

  “Of being a queen,” I interject.

  “Oy,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “Who honestly gives a bloody fuck about being a queen? I know you don’t. What really matters is the human experience. That’s what Aksel has given me. He’s given me love in
the purest form and I wouldn’t trade that for any throne.” She sighs and sits on the arm of the chair. “I know this is really scary for you right now. I know you’re afraid of what the press will say about it and I know you’re really worried about Anya. But she’s going to be okay. She’ll be better than okay, she’ll get to be a big sister. And you, well, you know that love in the purest form? The love you feel for Anya? You’re going to feel that same love for this baby and it’s going to make it all worth it in the end.”

  The tears are welling. Shit.

  “All right, I’m going to have to leave you for a bit,” she says, getting up and stretching. “I don’t trust the twins alone with Agnes for too long. She’s always trying to feed them some Danish homeopathic remedy and I swear it always has booze in it.”

  I watch as Aurora leaves the room and then I’m left with my thoughts for a bit. Though her words were comforting and I know she made a lot of sense, I’m still feeling unsettled.

  I think I need to have a talk with my mother.

  My mother’s hospital is on the outskirts of the city, the best place in the country for treating dementia and Alzheimer’s, and one of the best in Scandinavia. My mother has been here ever since my father died. We all think the stress of losing him triggered a stroke and then, shortly after that, something changed in her brain and though the doctors do say that stress can certainly speed up the symptoms of Alzheimer’s, they aren’t inclined to blame it on his death.

  But the truth is, they don’t know much about the disease at all. My mother was a very active woman, always going for walks and in the summer she loved rowing. She didn’t drink much, she ate healthy and she was pretty sharp. They say the warning signs would have been there but it’s hard to say now what they were. Was she forgetful? Of course. But she was a royal. She was the dowager queen (and in many hearts, she still is) and that’s a stressful role to play.

  It doesn’t really matter though, all the evenings Aksel and I sat around trying to figure out what went wrong and how it happened. It doesn’t change anything at all, it just brings pain into our hearts. I know that we both have a ton of baggage when it comes to our parents. He believes that his cold upbringing was because they were preparing him to be the king one day and he thinks that I got the mother who was warm and loving.