by Madison Faye
I glanced at Isaac, who shot me a quick look before smiling.
“Of course, your highness. It would be an honor.”
“Excellent!” Nolan clapped his hands together. “Well, until then? Good to meet you, Captain. Lieutenant.”
The Princess Simone curtseyed, and Brian bowed stiffly before the three of them turned and headed off. Isaac and I watched them until they were out of sight, before we turned to each other.
“So, that’s your competition, huh?”
I rolled my eyes as Isaac chuckled.
“The guy could stand to hit the gym once in his life or something. And that beard is fucking awful.”
“Aww, c’mon, Isaac,” I grinned widely at him. “If he wasn’t about to marry one hell of a woman, I’d say he had a little crush on you.”
Isaac snorted. “Fuck off, man.”
“Oh, come on, man. The poor guy got all blushing and stammering around you. I mean, he did invite you to dinner. Pretty sure you’ve got a hot date tonight.”
Isaac rolled his eyes. “You’re fucking weird, Oren.”
Isaac was decidedly straight, by the way. But giving him a hard time about the awkward and blushing prince was way too much fun.
“Issac, don’t be so quick to say no to love, even the kind that dare not speak its name—”
“Oren,” he growled, sighing.
I chuckled. “I’m just giving you a hard time.”
“Oh, are you?” he muttered dryly.
“The princess is pretty cute.”
Oren eyed me, giving me a stern look.
“If you’re trying to drag me over to the dark side, where we pretend princesses and queens hook up with non-royal soldiers, forget it. I’m not even entertaining that thought after seeing how twisted up it’s got you.”
I scowled at him and he grinned as he clapped me on the shoulder.
“I’m gonna take off and let you work out your shit on that bike. Guess I’ll see you at this big fancy pants dinner, huh?”
He nodded at my jeans. “Don’t forget to shower.”
“Don’t forget to bring a corsage for your date with the king.”
Oren walked away, hand held high with a middle finger extended as I laughed.
But when he was gone, the smile faded. The jokes drifted away like smoke, until my only thought was her.
Alessia.
I didn’t care that she was betrothed. I didn’t care that this was wrong. And for the first time in my life, I told “duty” and “the mission” to go fuck itself.
I’d seen her. I’d held her in my arms. I’d tasted those plump, soft lips. And now?
Now I wanted it all. And no one, not duty, not my king, not the waifish little man she was due to marry, not fate, and not divine intervention was going to keep me from her.
CHAPTER 6
ALESSIA
WATER DROPLETS TRICKLED down my skin as I stepped out of the shower and reached for a soft plush towel. If I’d had it my way, I’d still be drinking wine with my friends out on the balcony. Well, if we’re going with fantasy scenarios, I wouldn’t have been at that summer palace meeting Brian LaBeau at all.
But alas, here I was, and it was all happening no matter what I wanted. And “what I wanted,” or rather “who” I wanted, was, well… nothing I should have been thinking about. Not at all. It was disastrous to keep letting my thoughts wander to Oren, and his touch, and his eyes, and his lips.
…And all sorts of other things involving him and those hands of his that my wine-tipsy mind had been dreaming up the entire time I was just in the shower.
Instead of spending the rest of the evening with my friends or dreaming about the forbidden captain of the guard, I was getting ready to go have dinner with King-apparent Brian. At least it wasn’t one-on-one, I guess—more of a group affair, along with my uncle, Princess Simone, one or two of Brian’s advisors, and Emilia, as Vi and Lola had plans with their men. But even still—even with familiar faces there with me, it was still going to be awkward and terrible. At the end of it, I was still being forced to marry a guy I didn’t even know, all for stupid political purposes.
Welcome to the twenty-first century, huh?
And to make it worse, there was this guilt involved with who exactly my husband-to-be was. We’d never met, but at that point, I’d of course seen pictures of him.
…Yeah.
That’s where the guilt was. I mean, it’s not like I was a freaking supermodel, but King-apparent Brian LaBeau was… well, not exactly pushing my buttons. Not like a certain captain did. As horrible as it sounds, it’d be one thing if the man I was being forced to marry was some sort of eye candy. Or if he was a kind, funny man who I could at least have a good time with.
From his pictures, King Brian looked like neither of those things.
For one, he was small. I’m not shallow, and it’s not like something like height would really matter to me in a man I was to marry. But Brian was really, really small. Barely my height, and honestly, he probably weighted less than me too. You might have even called him waifish, as terrible as that sounds. But on top of that, there was the unsmiling, somewhat cold look in his eyes, in every shot. I’d asked my uncle about him, multiple times, of course, since he’d met with Brian a few times.
“He’ll be a strong ruler,” Uncle Nolan had said.
“But is he funny? Or even fun?”
Uncle Nolan had just smiled that thin, professional smile back at me that said everything words couldn’t.
“A strong ruler, Alessia,” he’d said quietly. “There’ve been plenty of arranged marriages in the royal world that didn’t even have that.”
Wonderful.
I sighed as I bunched the towel through my hair, soaking up some of the excess water before I wrapped the towel around myself and reached for the hair dryer.
The wine hadn’t helped. Leaning my head against the shower wall with hot water streaming over me for almost half an hour hadn’t helped. Because here I was about to go sit down to dinner with my betrothed, and my every thought was on the one man I should’ve had nothing to do with. My every thought was consumed by him, and stuck on him, and goddamnit, my body was being pulled right along with those forbidden trains of thought.
I blushed as I caught my reflection in the mirror as the blower began to tease hot air across my hair. Needless to say, a shower alone, after three glasses of wine and a head full of very wrong thoughts about the very gorgeous, very muscled, very sinfully tempting Oren Henley had gotten my hands… wandering.
I’d teased myself under that hot spray, but it’d only been for a moment, before the sensible me took over and admonished myself for giving in to wicked temptation. And so here I was, showered and getting ready for dinner, but with every single cell in my body still most definitely on edge and every thought in my head tinged a very naughty shade of “wrong” as they centered on Oren.
You are MARRYING Brian.
I winced as my mind forced the thought through my head. A bitter, bitter truth, but there it was. In a fantasy land? Sure—I could throw myself at Oren and run off into the sunset with him. Or into bed, for that matter.
But this was the real world. And in the real world—in the royal world, things happened differently. Things happened because they had to happen. For tradition, for politics, for the good of a country. For me, marrying Brian was a way to keep my country running smoothly. And if this was the sacrifice needed, so be it.
…No one ever said being a queen was going to be all fun and games, right?
I looked up into the bathroom mirror, holding my own gaze and for just a second, letting my thoughts wander to the forbidden again. As they had minutes before in the shower before I’d forced my hands from wandering and made myself get out to get ready for dinner. Only this time, when those filthy thoughts and desires concerning a certain ridiculously hot and huge captain?
Well, they lingered.
I felt my pulse beat quicker, my skin tingling as I finished blow-dryin
g my hair. I squeezed my thighs together, my breath catching at the feeling that sparked between them. The hair dryer turned off, and when I set it on the counter, my hands drifted to my towel, tugging it open and letting it drop. I swallowed, heat coursing through me as my fingers traced my skin, teasing up to cup my full, heavy breasts, my thumbs rolling across my nipples as I gasped quietly.
This wasn’t helping. Fantasizing about Oren Henley was the last thing I should have been doing before sitting down to dinner with the man I was to wed, and soon. But it couldn’t be helped, and I couldn’t stop.
I moaned breathlessly as my hand pushed down across my curved hip, teasing across my tummy and then further down. My hand slid between my thighs, my legs parting slightly as I whimpered, and when my fingers found my slick lips and swollen clit, I panted as the pleasure sizzled through me.
Yes, I was curvier than most girls. Yes, I’d been self-conscious about my wider hips, and bigger butt, and thicker thighs, and all of that when I was younger. I’d spent years obsessing about diet and counting my calories and always being hungry and pissed, until finally, one day, I’d said screw it. I liked the way I looked, even if magazine covers and Instagram tried their best to tell me I shouldn’t. And right now, I looked like a girl who needed to come, hard.
I whimpered as I watched myself, panting as my fingers stroked my slick, eager pussy, the other hand cupping a full breast and teasing the nipple to an aching point. My hips rolled, my breath caught, and my teeth raked across my bottom lip, and the whole time, all I was imagining was that it was Oren Henley’s hands on me—teasing me, toying with me, making me beg for more before he took me in his big arms, pulled me down onto his thick cock and—
The knock on the door of my quarters outside the half-open bathroom door had me gasping—gasping and almost falling right over on my ass as the adrenaline spiked through me. I blushed furiously, like I’d just been walked in on even though the door was locked. I yanked the towel around myself, clutching it with a white-knuckle grip as I swallowed heavily and poked my head out of the bathroom.
“Yes?”
The knocking came again, as if whoever the thunder-fist out there was couldn’t hear me.
“Hang on!” I yelled, padding out of the bathroom and over towards the heavy wooden door of my guest suite.
The pounding came again.
“Hang on, I said! I just got out of the show—”
The lock jangled, and doorknob turned, and I gasped as suddenly, the door slammed in. And standing there, filling the entire doorframe, stood the very man of my illicit fantasies. Right in front of me, in the flesh, and looking at me like he was about to devour me.
“Captain—” I gasped quietly, taking a step back, my hands tightening on the towel wrapped around my nude body that suddenly felt about as big as a washcloth.
Oren groaned—literally groaned, almost like a growl, his eyes blazing as they swept over me. And before I could utter another word, he strode into the room, his eyes locked on me.
“You—get out!” I blurted out, turning red as I backed away from him.
Oren’s gaze held mine as he just kept coming, kicking the door shut behind him. It closed with a heavy thunk, and my heart jumped into my throat realizing I was alone and basically naked with the very man of my fantasies.
“No,” he growled quietly, his jaw tight, his huge shoulders heaving.
“No what,” I breathed, shuddering as I took another step back from him, my fingers tight on the towel.
“No, I won’t get out. No, I won’t leave. No, I won’t let another second pass by without doing this.”
“Doing wh—”
He was on me in a second, closing the distance between us like a jungle cat lunging for his prey. I gasped as his big arms slid around me, scooping me into his rock-hard body as my heart jumped into my throat. He pushed us backwards, and when my back hit the wall behind me, I whimpered as I felt his muscles press against me. His hands gripped me tight, fingers digging into my hips through the fluffy towel, and when I raised my head and let my eyes drag up to meet his fierce gaze, I was gone.
Finished. Undone. Melting into freaking puddle.
“Without doing wha—”
“This,” he growled, and suddenly, his lips were on mine, crushing against my mouth and stealing my very breath away as he kissed me hard, fierce, and with more passion than I’d ever felt in my entire life.
CHAPTER 7
ALESSIA
I MOANED as Oren’s lips seared to mine, his growl rumbling through me as his hands slide around my waist. He pinned me to the wall as he burned that kiss into my freaking soul. My lips parted for his tongue, mine dancing with his as I moaned into his mouth. My hands found his hips, sliding around to grab his perfect, sculpted ass through his Royal Guard uniform, and when I whimpered into his lips, he only kissed me harder for it.
His hands tightened on my hips, and suddenly, I felt his fingers grip at the towel.
“Oren…”
He tugged, and without even making a move to stop him, I felt the soft terrycloth slip away from my bare body, dropping to pool at my feet. I shivered, blushing fiercely as I found myself naked with a man for the very first time. And yet at the same time, I was hungry for it—yearning for it. And so freaking ready for it.
Oren groaned into my lips as his hands slid to the bare skin of my hips. His fingers traced my curves before grazing across my body and suddenly gripping me tight as he positively growled like a beast into my mouth. I could feel his big body press into me, and when I felt the huge, thick bulge between his legs press to my middle, I moaned so eagerly into his lips.
Growling, Oren pulled back, nipping at my bottom lip as I whimpered. He took a step back, his hands still on my naked hips, and when his fierce eyes swept over me—over all off me—I blushed fiercely and tried to pull my hands over myself.
“No,” he growled fiercely, his jaw tight and his eyes burning with this fire I’d never seen before as they swept over every inch of me.
I dropped my gaze, my cheeks blushing red.
“I—I’m not—”
“You’re fucking perfect,” he groaned quietly, his voice haggard, and God, those eyes just drinking me in in a way that had me melting for him. He was looking at me like he wanted to devour me. He looked at me like he’d never seen another woman before in his life. And the combination of both of those had me trembling as my body pulsed and ached for him.
“Goddamn are you perfect,” Oren groaned. His big hand slide around my hips, fingers teasing across my skin before tightening as he pulled me into him. I panted, my breath coming ragged as he tugged my bare body against his still clothed but utterly rock-hard one. His hands slide over me, teasing down to cup my full ass just as he leaned down and crushed his lips to mine again. I moaned this time—wantonly, eagerly, and hungrily—wanting him so fucking badly I could feel it in my toes.
I knew it was wrong, and I did. Not. Care. I’d never wanted anything like I wanted Oren in that moment. And it’d been like that since that first kiss those months before. Months, I’d ached for him, and pined for him, and laid awake at night gasping his name while I pretended my small fingers were his big hands. And now, fantasy was coming to life right in front of me. Right there in that room, the big, gorgeous fantasy man was very much my reality, cupping my nude body against his as he growled his desire into my lips.
I gasped as he picked me up, my legs instinctively going around his waist and my body trembling as I felt his big hands grip my ass tight. His fingertips—God, they were so close to touching me where no one ever had. They dug into my skin as he cupped my ass, inches shy of brushing my bare, slick little pussy as he wheeled us and stormed across the room. And I didn’t even know or care where we were going until suddenly, Oren tossed me down—tossed, in this way that had my pulse racing and my pussy aching for him—across the bed.
My heart raced, my skin tingling as Oren stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes drinking me in eagerly. He re
ached for his uniform, popping one button at a time, and I swallowed thickly as I watched him open his shirt up and shrug it off.
Oh my fuck yes.
I’d known Oren was strong. I’d known he was built. I’d known how hard his muscles had felt under his clothes. But shirtless? Standing there looking at me like I was his last meal with his muscles rippling and his jaw clenching hungrily?
Holy fuck was he gorgeous.
Bulging, ripped muscles. A broad, thick chest tapering down to absolutely chiseled, grooved abs. I mean the man had a freaking eight-pack. And lower, delving into the waist of his uniform pants, the double grooved lines of his hips—the kind of hip lines that drive girls crazy, and his made me lose my fucking mind.
Oren stalked onto the bed, hand walking over me as I whimpered and sank back into the covers. I trembled beneath him, my legs opening willingly and wrapping around his hips as he settled between my legs. He growled, leaning down to kiss me fiercely, our tongues dueling as I felt his hand slide up and down my side. He teased it high, his knuckles brushing against the side of my full breast and making me gasp before he slid it back down. He grabbed my hip possessively, his hand so big that his fingers dug into my ass, pulling my hips off the bed against the huge, rock-hard bulge in his pants.
Our tongues swirled together, moans tangling and bodies writhing against each other. And I was so wet for him—so wet that I worried I’d be leaving wet stains on his pants from the way he was grinding against me. His mouth dropped to my neck, his lips and teeth dragging over my sensitive skin as I cried out, my fingers raking down his bulging arms.
“Oren,” I gasped, moaning as his mouth dropped lower to kiss its way down the soft slope of my breast.
“Wait.”
The word left my lips before I could stop it, and I cringed, wishing I’d kept it back. But then, at the same time, somehow, reason broke through. Reason, and reality, and duty to my kingdom—it all came rushing up at once, and suddenly, I realized I had no fucking idea what I was doing. Not just literally since I’d never even gone this far with a man before. But in the broader sense too. What was I doing messing around with the captain of the guard for Bandiff, when I was barely an hour away from sitting down to dinner with a man I was supposed to marry?
