by Melinda Minx
“Okay,” she says, nodding.
“You’re going to get under the bar like this,” I say, gripping the bar with both hands and sliding my body under it. “I’ll lower it for your height, of course, but you get under it like this, and then pull your shoulders back and rest the bar on your back just like this.”
I show her, and she mimics the motion.
“From there,” I say, “it’s all footwork. You get a good center of balance, and you drive the bar up with your body.”
I make sure the bar is tight on my shoulders. “Then you take one step back, widen your stance, and squat.”
I do one squat to show her, then I put the bar back. “Think you got it?”
“I think so,” she says, nodding.
I lower the bar four notches to compensate for her height, and then I gesture for her to go into the rack, and I step out.
“I’ll stay behind you,” I say. “Just in case.”
She goes under the bar, just like I showed her, and she tries to get the bar onto her shoulders.
“No,” I say. “Here.”
I put a hand on her back and run it up along her shoulder. I feel myself getting hard again, and I’m half tempted to just push my rock-hard cock against her, and cup her breasts―
“Like this?” she says, pulling her shoulders back.
“Yes,” I say. “That’s perfect.”
She grips the bar, and I adjust her hands so they are wider out.
“Now stand up straight,” I say.
She gets the bar up, and I grip her waist. “One step back.”
She steps back, and I regretfully let go of her body. “Now go down as deep as you can.”
“What if I can’t stand back up?” she asks.
“Then I’ll help you.”
She nods, wobbles a little bit, and squats down.
“Up,” I say. “Flex your muscles.”
She stands up. “Woah, that was way lighter than I thought. Can I add some weight?”
I laugh. “Look at you. Here a minute ago, you didn’t even want to do this at all, and now you’re asking for more weight?”
She pouts at me. “It looks so pathetic when the bar is empty, I at least want to look like I’m lifting something.”
“Hmm,” I say, stroking my chin. “How heavy did it feel to you?”
“Not heavy at all,” she says.
“All right,” I say. “Let’s up you to around a hundred pounds.”
I slide some plates onto the bar, and Jane bites her lip.
“What?” I ask.
“One hundred pounds sounds like a lot,” she says. “The plate I dropped was a hundred.”
“Right,” I say. “But now you’ll have the weight distributed out over your entire body, so it will be a cakewalk.”
“If you say so,” she says.
I snap the pins on, and Jane steps forward. She gets under the bar like I instructed her to do before, but she stalls nervously once she’s under it.
“What now?” she asks.
“Just like before,” I say. “I’m right behind you.”
“It feels a lot heavier,” she says.
“It’s about fifty pounds heavier,” I say. “The weight of a heavy grocery bag.”
“Since when does a prince go grocery shopping?”
She’s got me there. I’ve never held a grocery bag in my life, but for basic training we had to haul twenty-kilogram bags of rice.
“Up,” I say.
She pushes the bar up and stands there. “It’s heavy.”
“Step back,” I say, gripping her waist.
She takes the step back, and she shifts her feet around until her stance is balanced and symmetrical. I find myself staring at her ass in those tight yoga pants.
“You look stable,” I say. “Now squat down, then as soon as you’re down, push back up with all your strength.”
She squats down, but she just sits there.
“Up,” I say.
She starts to move up, but falls back down.
“I’m stuck! Rikard, I can’t get back up!”
I look down and notice that she somehow pulled her feet in together, and her stance is no longer wide enough. She’ll have a hell of a time getting back up now.
“Just fall down,” I say, knowing that the safety latches will hold the bar.
“I’m scared,” she says.
“I can get you back up, iIf you don’t want to go down.”
“Please,” she says, her voice wavering. Her body is starting to wobble, and the bar is looking like it might tip.
I squat down behind her, wrap my hands tightly around her waist until my palms dig into her stomach, and I press up against her back. Once I’m pressed tight up against her, I drive my hips forward and stand up, bringing Jane’s body and the weight on her back up effortlessly with me. After squatting seven hundred pounds, this two hundred pounds and change is nothing.
Once we’re both up, I realize that I’m up, meaning my dick is at attention. And it’s pressing right up into her ass. There’s no way she can’t feel it either through those thing yoga pants, but I don’t back away―I can’t yet, the weight is still resting on her.
I let go of her hips and bring my hands up to the bar, then I lift the bar up above my head. I expect Jane to step forward, but she basically just leans back into me.
“You’re warm,” she says.
“I was lifting for over an hour before you got here,” I say.
“Really warm,” she says.
I notice the warmest spot is where my cock is pressing into her thick ass. It’s impossibly warm, and I can feel it pulsing with impatience.
She slides her ass down along my cock, and my eyes roll back into my head. I’m still holding the one hundred pounds above both of our heads, but there’s no way I’d lose my grip on such light weight.
“Sir,” Donovan’s voice breaks in.
Shit, he’s standing right there while Jane grinds against me.
She jumps away from me and looks over at Donovan with a beet-red face.
“Uh,” I say.
“It’s Magnus,” he says, holding up my phone.
Jane looks at me and locks eyes. “Was he there the whole time?” she whispers.
“He’s good at being invisible,” I say. “At least until he talks.”
I grab the phone from Donovan.
“Magnus?” I say. “Weren’t you on duty?”
“Yeah,” he says. “But something’s up. I shouldn’t really tell you, I don’t think, but…―”
Suddenly the connection cuts off.
“Magnus?” I say, but I can tell by the way no sound hits my ear that the call has been totally cut out. He can’t hear me.
I try to call him back, but there’s no service.
“What is it?” Jane asks.
“I got a bad feeling. Come with me.”
14
Jane
I was going to come with you, Dick, but I forgot your weird servant guy was just standing there in the gym watching me rub my ass onto your cock. Would he not have at least coughed or something if Magnus hadn’t called? Or was he just going to stay for the whole show?
“Can I change first?” I ask.
I’m not sweating from two squats, but I don’t want to walk through the palace wearing these skimpy clothes.
“No time,” Rikard says, grabbing my hand. “Donovan, go tell Siegfried to meet me in my father’s room.”
Donovan nods and disappears down the hallway in the opposite direction.
We take turn after turn down the endless winding corridors. I had to have one of the palace staff walk me to the weight room this morning, and I don’t remember how we got there. I feel like I’d have to live in the palace for at least a year before I would be able to get anywhere without getting hopelessly lost in its halls.
“What did Magnus say?” I ask.
“Try not to worry,” Rikard says, “but he told me ‘something was up,’ and then the
cell signal cut out.”
“What do you think that means?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says. “But I need to get to my father. I don’t like it.”
We pass a number of people on the way, but no one else seems panicked. Rikard is trying his best not to look worried, but he’s wearing gym shorts, a soaked white tank top, and dripping in sweat. Everyone he passes gives him a weird look, and as we get deeper and deeper into the palace, Rikard’s attire―and mine―looks more out of place.
“We should have changed,” I say.
“It’s fine,” he says. “Trust me.”
“Your Highness?” someone says, stepping out in front of Rikard.
He narrows his eyes at the man. “I beg your pardon? I’m not the prince,” Rikard says.
“You’re not Prince Rikard?” the man asks.
“No,” Rikard says. “Who told you that I was the prince?”
He takes a step closer toward Rikard. “Your cousin Siegfried told me. He said something is about to happen, and he sent me to come get you.”
As Rikard skeptically looks the man over, he raises his hand and points over Rikard’s shoulder. “Ah, good, there’s Siegfried.”
I turn my attention in the direction he’s pointing, but I see nothing. Rikard also turns to look.
I barely have time to see the gun in the man’s hand, but I immediately dive toward him when I notice it.
The gun is pointed right at the back of Rikard’s head when I tackle the guy, but I’m not heavy enough to bring him down, only to mess up his aim.
I hear the shot go off, and Rikard spins around.
He wastes no time. He grabs the guy by the wrist, slams the gun out of his hand, and knees him hard in the gut. The force sends me back off him, and I stumble backward as Rikard slams a fist into the guy’s face, bringing him down.
I look up, breathless, at Rikard. “Did you get shot?” I ask.
“No, thanks to you, I didn’t…”
“Rikard, Jane, get down!” a voice booms out behind us. It’s Magnus’s voice.
We both drop to the floor, and Rikard covers me with his body.
I hear dozens of shots ring out, some sounding closer than others, and then I hear Magnus standing right above us. “Come on!”
Rikard rolls off me, reaches down, and pulls me up by my hand.
Magnus hands a gun to him, and when I look behind us, I see two dead men at the end of the hallway.
“What the fuck?” Rikard asks.
“Your father is safe,” Magnus says, “so they went after you.”
“Jesus,” I say. “What about Jannika?”
“She’s safe, too,” Magnus says.
“We need to find Siegfried then,” Rikard says.
Magnus’s face twitches, but he doesn’t respond
If I remember correctly, Rikard’s sister Jannika is second in line to the crown, and Siegfried is third. Siegfried will be the next target.
Magnus leads us to the elevator, and we get in without anyone seeing us.
“Breivik has us all down in the bunker,” Magnus says. “Just in case.”
“Breivik?” I ask. “You mean Ekdahl?”
The elevator doors shut, and Magnus inserts a key. “No, Breivik led the coup...and he’s being aided by Siegfried.”
My eyes widen in surprise, but not as much as Rikard’s.
Siegfried had seemed so nice, too, and he’d been so friendly toward me. That same smiling guy sent assassins to kill Rikard?
“Are you sure?” I ask Magnus.
“Yes,” Magnus says. “New bomb scanners had been installed after the incident yesterday, and Siegfried set one off. He ran off before anyone grabbed him.”
“Damn it!” Rikard shouts. “Why did no one―”
Magnus shakes his head. “By the time they realized what was happening, they would have needed to open fire on him. No one was there to issue the order, and none of the guards wanted to fire on someone directly in line for the throne.”
Rikard punches the elevator door, but I can understand the guards’ hesitation. I sure wouldn’t want to be the one who fired the shot without receiving a direct order if it turned out that Siegfried was innocent.
The elevator opens, and dozens of men with guns are standing in front of a huge open vault door.
“What the hell is that?” I ask.
“Fallout shelter,” Rikard says. “They won’t shut it unless…”
His voice trails off.
“Unless what?” I ask fearfully.
“It’s a fallout shelter,” Magnus says. “Think about it.”
I gulp, not really wanting to think about what any of this means.
“Is my father inside?” Rikard asks.
Magnus nods.
15
Rikard
“I wish you were meeting my father under other circumstances,” I say, leading Jane toward the door leading into the fallout shelter.
She bites her lip and looks up at me. “He’s…”
“Not awake, no,” Rikard says. “So I guess it’s not technically a formal introduction.”
“Sorry, Rikard,” Jane says. “I didn’t mean to―”
“No,” I say. “It’s fine. I would like you to see him, though.”
She smiles.
It’s not so much that I need Jane to see my father lying unconscious in a hospital bed, but more that I don’t trust leaving her with anyone else. If I go in alone, then Jane is separated from me, and if any of General Ekdahl or Siegfried’s stooges are down here with us, they might use Jane to get at me.
I open the door, and we go inside.
The fallout shelter is equipped with medical facilities, and Papa is in one of the bays, hooked up to IVs and monitoring equipment, just like he had been above ground.
Even though he’s still unconscious, he looks...healthier than before.
“He doesn’t look as bad as I feared,” Jane says.
“How do you mean?” I ask.
“Sorry,” she says. “That came out all wrong.”
“No,” I say, grabbing her wrist. “I need an unbiased opinion. What did you mean, specifically?”
“Well,” she says, looking at my father’s still body. “I guess I expected his skin to look grey, but it’s got a lot of color to it, and I feared he might have some drooping on his face as a result of the stroke...but he looks almost like he’s just sleeping.”
I nod. Yes, she’s right. He definitely has more color than before, and he almost looks healthy and strong, like he should be holding a sword in his hands.
“Father,” I say, putting a hand on him. “This is Jane Caswell.” I look up at Jane. “And Jane, this is my father. The King of Nordia.”
“Your Highness,” she says, bowing.
“If you can hear me,” I say, “I met Jane at the castle, just after your stroke. There was an attack...and Jane helped me rescue and free the hostages. We’ve spent some time together since then, and, well…”
I trail off, realizing that Jane still hasn’t given me an answer.
“And,” Jane says, “Rikard will be able to take the throne if something happens to you...decades from now, of course. You’re going to make a full recovery, but I’m ready to become his princess.”
She looks up at me and beams, her eyes sparkling and her hand still clasping my father’s.
I grab hold of her then, pulling her hand away from my father’s bedside, and I squeeze her by the waist. I lean into her, and our eyes meet. Our eyes burn for each other, and there’s no longer any way we can pull away from each other without kissing.
I press into her, squeezing her body as my tongue slides between her full, warm lips. She lets out a low moan, and her fingers dig into my muscular back, clenching me closer to her. I’m hard as the castle walls in an instant, and my thick bulge presses into her soft stomach. I know she can feel it through the tight fabric of her workout clothes.
I drink her in with hunger, letting her feminine scent o
verwhelm me as I massage her tongue with mine. Everything else in the world fades away, and there’s only Jane.
Until I hear a loud, rattling cough. There’s a gasping for breath, and I hear the steady background beeping of the EKG hooked up to my father intensify.
Jane and I break away from one another, and we look over to see my father coughing, his hand raised up and covering his mouth.
“Father!” I shout, rushing to his bedside and grabbing him by the shoulder.
I hit the button to call the nurses in, and I see my father’s eyes open up and lock onto mine.
He gasps for breath, the coughing fit seemingly over.
“Rikard?” He looks around. “Where the hell are we?”
I look back over at Jane, and her mouth is hanging open.
“Did you hear anything?” I ask. “While you were―”
“Yes, yes,” he says in a hoarse voice. “She is going to marry you, but where are we?”
Jane’s eyes widen at my father’s flippant response to our good news, but she grins, realizing at the same time as I do that he seems very aware of his surroundings. No visible sign of brain damage...at least not yet.
“We’re in the fallout shelter,” I say. “I―”
The door swings open then, and two nurses and a doctor barge in. “Don’t tell him what is going on; he can’t be mentally taxed.”
Father nearly growls at them. “I am the king! I need to know what is happening in my kingdom.”
The nurses and doctor eye each other.
I look over at them. “Run the tests you need, figure out if there’s really a huge risk...he’s the king, and he does need to know what’s happening.”
“Damn it!” my father shouts. “I already know we’re in the fallout shelter, and I’m going to burst a gasket imagining the worst possible situation if you don’t fucking tell me what is happening right now!”
The doctor looks at him with a worried expression in response to the sight of the veins in my father’s head bulging out.
“There was an attempted coup,” the doctor says.
“A coup!” my father shouts.
I lean in toward my father’s ear and whisper, “Don’t shout, or they will treat you like a coddled egg.”
“A coup,” he says, in a flat, even-keeled voice. “Who started this coup?”
