by Mia Madison
It’s ripping me up how much I still want to.
We swim back to the boat.
“You might have broken that guys nose,” Kennedy murmurs, when I help her back on board.
“I don’t give a shit. Don’t I deserve some privacy in my life to be with my girl?”
Fuck, I shouldn’t have put it that way.
She’s not my girl and can’t ever be.
“Maybe I should have shaken his hand,” I snap, throwing the throttle back to lift the nose and plane the powerful speedboat across the water so none of those garbage boats can keep up with us.
“Why,” she asks softly.
Her voice trembles slightly. Her eyes are trawling back and forth across mine, hardly daring to ask.
“Because that should never have happened,” I tell her brusquely.
She turns her face and glares proudly ahead out to sea. I can’t stop looking at her. Her wet hair is lifted by the counter force, streaming out behind her. She looks like a goddess, standing at the prow of my boat, her perfect tits covered by tiny triangles of fabric, swaying firmly on every wave landing.
“Why’s that?” she says, not looking at me. “I know you want me just as much as I want you.”
“Because I don’t want to steal your virginity. It’s the most precious thing you can bring the man you will marry some day.”
She cracks a rueful smile and shakes her head. Silence descends on us, driving us apart.
“There’s a State Dinner you’ll have to attend this evening,” I inform her, coldly.
Forcing the need in me back down.
“Fine,” she says. “But I want Daddy there.”
“That wont be possible,” I say.
“Then I won’t be attending. I’m not leaving him alone in his room two nights in a row.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her he’ll be dining alone for years soon but I can’t do that to her. She looks so fucking regal, like a real little queen when she’s mad. As well as being my own perfect princess.
“Fine,” I say, in her cold manner.
We ride the rest of the distance in silence. When I berth at the marina, she allows a waiting footman to hand her out before me. She takes off for the palace without waiting to be wrapped into the robe being held out for her, and without a backward glance.
I don't chase after her and already I regret that. Instead I allow the footman to enrobe me then head to the equerry’s office to make sure my orders from this morning were carried out. He tells me everything is perfect so I head to my suite to take care of a little business before the State Dinner.
When the gong sounds for us to go down to the huge event, I leave my room immediately. Kennedy and I aren't yet married so protocol demands that we enter the reception separately. That being the case, I don't go to the yellow room to collect her but head directly down to where the invited guests are waiting. A round of applause rings out as I come down the stairs.
I scour all around, desperate for a glimpse, but I can’t see Kennedy anywhere. Her father is at the bar, talking shit eagerly to some diplomat. He looks like a smarmy car salesman but that’s probably my jaded view of him.
My heart rate picks up. If Kennedy’s going to pull a stunt on me by not showing up, she’s going to be in for a spanking that will make the last one seem like a caress.
My father appears at the top of the stairs and makes his slow progress down, relishing the accolade. Cocktails over, the gong sounds for us all to go into dinner now that the King’s arrived.
I’m beside myself with annoyance at her for letting me down and then an ‘ooh’ swishes through the assembly. I look up, following their gazes and a fucking princess is at the top of the stairs. I have never seen a woman so stunning. Her hair is rolled up into a formal style that she manages to make look incredibly sexy with some loose tendrils hanging down her back. Her dress is by one of the Paris designers that I told the equerry to order. They could send over some creations if they wanted to be front page news and copied everywhere this season.
Sure enough, Kennedy came home after our swimming disaster to find a pile of designer gowns waiting for her from which to make her choice. And fuck, she chose brilliantly. Her body looks delicious in an off the shoulder low backed full length white gown. I see she’s also wearing shoes with red soles – the genuine article, screaming high like I like on a woman. And she’s wobbling just a tiny bit as she comes down the stairs, looking out at everyone clapping with her face shining.
I flick my eyes away from her to see my father has stopped his progression in to dinner to take a look at her and I get that he doesn't find her lacking.
I take the bottom stairs, trying not to dash but remain majestic as I extend an arm to her. She takes in my white tie dress suit, probably thinking I’m the worlds biggest stiff. Then she beams a smile at me and slips her arm into mine like she adores me and only me in the entire world. Fuck what I wouldn't give to have a woman gaze at me with genuine affection like that.
“You look exquisite,” I whisper.
“Good enough to fuck?” she hisses through a fixed smile.
“Definitely.”
Fuck protocol. I bring her into my arm so she can lean onto me for support and walk at my side not behind. The final touch I made this afternoon was switch the place cards at the table, same as I did as a joke when I was a boy. Kennedy is now seated beside me and I settle her into her chair before taking mine. She’s looking wide-eyed at the gold edged plates, the hand calligraphied menu of eight courses.
“Just follow my lead,” I lean in to whisper the aroma from her skin and hair almost blasts my head off with the surge of desire.
“Anywhere,” she whispers back.
The wine glasses in a line intrigue her.
“Are we getting bombed?”
“Not with the President of Tayrona sitting right across from us.”
She gets into the swing of the dinner, speaking intelligently to the diplomat on her other side when he asks her a question about the United States. I glow as proudly as if she actually were mine.
“You really thought I was a virgin?” she whispers when everyone’s busy with the poultry course.
“I thought – I -” How do I tell her it was her father who told me that?
“I’m twenty four years old, If you want a virgin these days you’d have to grab one at the school gates.”
I make a distasteful face that she finds amusing. Like I’m the uptight one.
“What is it with all you guys and virgins anyways?” she hiss-whispers so no one can even read her lips. I must admit, she’s good at this statecraft.
“Maybe we want to be the only one. Ever.”
“You would be the only one. In the here and now, and then forever,” she says. “Any guy in my past is staying there. But only for a man that treats me like a woman, not like some doll that isn’t allowed to have lived a little or know her own mind.”
“I doubt that would ever be your character.” I say,
“Thank fuck,” she hisses.
“Yeah, thank fuck.” A grin spreads across my face. I’m enjoying a State Dinner for the first time ever.
“I wouldn't want a man that’s so insecure he can’t tolerate the idea of me having enjoyed any other experience in life.”
“Is that me?”
“Is it?”
“Have you ever had sex at one of these shindigs?”
I almost choke on my wine.
“I told you, I’ve never had a woman in the palace with me.”
“A state dinner virgin.”
She slips a hand under the tablecloth and runs her fingers tantalizingly up my thigh. She reaches the bulge in my fitted dress pants and doesn't stop there, she rubs it using her wrist joint so there’s no action above the table and I’m ready to fucking explode seeing as I’m still raging from this afternoon. She fingers my zipper and I hiss an order at her.
“Don’t you dare.”
She looks up at me inno
cent and adoring as she slides the zipper down and slips her hand inside.
“Oh,” she purrs softly. Finding me commando and stiff as fucking stone.
I curse through gritted teeth and scour the table length. No one’s looking at us. Until the President looks up and smiles at me. Fuck, I curse again.
Kennedy looks around like Her Serene Highness and starts stroking my length firmly, provocatively. My breathing hitches and a little smile curls on her perfect pink lips. I know she plans to keep going until she makes me explode right here in front of the king, the president, her father and half the world’s diplomatic corp.
I reach under the cloth and grab her hand, resettle myself and then rise, holding my napkin strategically.
“Excuse us,” I announce to the table, “My fianceé requires my assistance.”
Chapter Fifteen
Kennedy
“Are you going to spank me again,” I ask, breathless as I struggle to keep up with him dragging me out of the huge dining room. “I’m not wearing any panties,” I add, making him emit a low growl.
I trot along, trying not to trip in the tight dress and heels, his hand gripping me hard enough to bruise but I don't care. I want his hands hard on me, all over me. “I was hoping you’d be the one getting me off under the table, seeing as you like virgins so much.”
He stops in the middle of the wide hallway and rounds on me to clamp both my upper arms in his huge palms. His eyes gouge so hard into mine I feel sharded into pieces. At first I think he’s furious with me for stroking his perfect thick shaft, so huge, so steely under the soft skin. It was like stroking cashmere, right in front of all those dignitary types.
I want more of that. His lids lower into a gaze of such urgent need, he looks almost tortured. Is that all for me?
Luc whips around, keeping one hand on my arm to bring me flying along with him. He heads straight for the wall, then presses a panel so a section pops open. He kicks it back far enough to pull me through behind him and I go tumbling into him against the side of his muscular chest.
We’re in some sort of serving pantry. I hear low talking, laughter and people walking up and down on the other side. Then my attention tears away from that, back to the huge man bearing down on me. Even before he heels the panel shut behind us, Luc’s hands are covering me. His mouth slams down over mine, sucking up my tongue along the underside, the top side, twining around and around so my head starts to swirl.
Luc possesses me with his kiss and his hands drag down the length of my back, over the curve of my ass where his fingers claw into my dress. He takes the flesh along as he drags the length of the long silk velvet skirt up my legs.
“I need you, Kennedy. I can’t play this game any longer. I need to be buried inside you right now.”
He’s panting a little harder as his mouth steals hard kisses, almost lip bites down the side of my neck.
“I need your tight pussy around me. My cock is insane for you. Only you.”
“Yes,” I urge him on. Then softer, more pleading, “Yes.”
I cling to his solid back, my fingers clawing at the smooth wool of his jacket. I can feel every taut muscle flex as he tips forward to bury his face into the side of my neck making goosebumps rise all along my arms. They even feel like they’re running down my tummy but that’s only because he’s clawed my full length dress up to my hips and discovered I am actually wearing underwear.
“Naughty girl, telling me whoppers,” he husks into my skin so it shivers.
“Seems I’ll do anything to entice you,” I moan, my breath hitching as I tip my head back and allow him access to more of my throat and chest.
But Lucien isn’t wasting time. He’s a crazed beast and now the impediment of my tight skirt is raised, he pulls me up onto him. In one move he sweeps all the bottles lined up on the serving station to one side. They all go crashing and toppling against the wall.
Thankfully, they don’t smash to the floor, bringing a hundred, or a thousand servants to discover us in here. But the Crown Prince doesn’t seem to care. He spreads my legs to shove himself between them, wedging me open as he shoves me up onto the table.
I’m fumbling and tugging at all the buttons and hooks on his jacket, the waistband. In a rage of frustration I tug at the zipper and yank it part way down, feeling the head of his huge shaft burst free.
His hands have traveled frantically up my body, caressing every last inch of me with ravenous need, squeezing, stroking. He pulls down one side of my dress and growls out a low feral sound as my breast pops free and he finds me topless, like he likes me. My nipple goes into his mouth where he’s licking and biting all at once as his free hand pulls down the other side and palms the entire mound into his squeezing grasp.
He can’t get enough all at once. I cling to him as his hand shoves down between my legs and tears back the flimsy crotch of my panties.
It’s absolutely soaked through and he moans into my mouth as his fingers glide into my slick folds.
“You’re so fucking wet, Baby.”
“You made me wait so long,” I whimper.
All I can do is claw his back, clinging onto him as he rides roughshod across every part of my body like a man possessed. He’s so hard it’s almost brutal but at the same time tender, filled with so much hungry yearning I feel more desirable than ever before. My neck stretches further, my mouth opening to drag at the air that seems to have sucked out of the tiny space. Lucien fills it with his powerful body and huge need.
His finger slides across my swollen clit and into the hollow of my pussy mouth.
“I can’t wait any longer,” he croaks.
“Don’t wait,” I purr, pleading. If he takes any more time this may not happen. Anyone might come in.
“Please. Don’t. Wait.” Each word comes out of my mouth with a hitch of breath.
His fingers are gliding circles in my wetness, every nerve ending is tingling and reaching at his touch. Even my pores want him. The desperate yearning for his beautiful prick pushing through my slickness is overwhelming, making me breathless. My hands drag over his back and try to shove his jacket off but then there’s all the buttons of the white waistcoat and my need is too desperate. I press between us to palm his cock but he slaps my hand away.
Lucien won’t allow me any control after my little stunt in the dining room.
And my body is shaking too much from what he’s doing to my clit to be able to move with any purpose. I’m twisting my head this way and that, trying to gasp at breath. He cups the underside of my thigh and drags it up so my foot lifts and hooks on the edge of the table.
I’m spread wide open and when he glances down to gaze on my glistening folds, pulsating and pink, he growls out a raw noise. He yanks his zipper roughly down and pulls out his full length. I get only a brief glimpse before he locates his bulging round head into my hollow opening and both make me gasp loudly.
“Oh my god,” I murmur.
That thing is so perfectly formed. So huge and so beautiful, I want it in my hands and in my mouth and most of all I want it sliding all the way into me.
“Come.” I moan. “Inside.”
I don’t have to wait another second. Lucien’s force pushes through the small band of resistance and with another sound of rawness, he thrusts smoothly along the full length of my tight pussy.
“You feel so fucking good,” he rasps.
My thoughts exactly.
I know I’m making crazy mewling sounds and thrashing around but I can’t stop and I don’t care.
I can’t think really. I can’t speak.
All I can do is emit those weird noises as his wide girth presses my walls back and forces me to take him in. Nothing in my life has ever felt so incredible. He’s so big and so hard it makes me shudder deep to my core.
When he pulls all the way out to the tip, the emptiness is a terrible vacancy. But it only lasts a second before the pleasure rides all the way up me again as he thrusts into me and buries himself to the ro
ot. We’re both clawing at each other still, mouths clamping on to whatever part of the other we can connect to. We both need to touch and kiss and bite and pinch everywhere at once as he thrusts harder and faster.
Panting. Gasping.
The pleasure pulls all the way back through me like the tide dragging on pebbles and then it crashes through me. A huge wave slamming back across my pores, it floods to my edges. I can’t stop shuddering and moaning and clawing at his solid mass of dinner-jacketed shoulders.
Lucien shoves into me with a final deep jerk and holds himself buried further than seems possible as he fills me up. He empties into me with a deep groan. His arms wrap around my back, holding me tight to his broad chest, crushing my breasts to his pecs as he rasps out harsh breaths of release.
Chapter Sixteen
Lucien
I hold Kennedy in my arms, wrapping her so tight my arms fold over onto themselves. I keep her pinned to me as we each fight with our lungs to recover our breathing. I can feel her heart pounding onto mine, every inch of her chest lodged against mine and I don’t want to ever move.
She fits there like we were molded as one. I’m still rock hard inside her. Her tunnel wall is clenching around me almost as tight as I’m holding her to my chest. I want to keep her against me forever.
Some noises permeate from outside the servery. There’s a small army of footmen back there but they’re obviously doing everything with kid gloves, because all the usual clattering of dinner service is dampened. They know I’m in here. The servants don’t miss an iota of minute detail in this house. They know everything.
They’ll have plenty to gossip on tonight. The prince fucking his princess in the pantry. Christ, if one of them sold that to the papers they’d make a fortune and I’d be sent to Saigon, or some equally distant nowhere. And I could be happy with that if I could persuade Kennedy to come with me.
