by Wilde, Kati
I won’t let him distract me with his teasing. “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown.”
“Aww,” he says, then moves in and tries to disprove his maturity. “Give me a big squishy hug.”
I back away, laughing. “Nope,” I tell him. “I look my absolute best right now, and I intend to arrive at the palace still looking that way.”
“The car is here!” Liz sings out as she comes racing down the stairs with her heels in hand and the skirt of her pink sequined gown lifted high.
“Car?” James heads for the door.
“The palace informed me that they’d send a car for us.” Which would be an unusual courtesy for a mere baron and his sisters, but being Wilhelm Dietrich’s children puts us higher up the list for this particular reception. Without the Vic-10, none of this would have happened.
We wait as Liz finishes putting on her shoes. My shoes, of course. I let her borrow them despite the prank she pulled yesterday—a prank that she immediately disavowed…then blamed on James.
Which might be true. Sometimes he’s as bad as she is. And Karl Sauer might have been someone he met in the militia. A portion of Kapria’s armed forces remain in the kingdom, but only as part of the search and rescue unit in the mountains, which is the post I had during my year of volunteer service. The remainder are sometimes deployed as part of U.N. peacekeeping missions, which is the unit James serves with now. He could have easily made an American friend who would be willing to play a prank on a sister.
Or I might be completely wrong.
Liz is the first outside. I hear her laugh, then a cheerful, “Good evening, Mr. Sauer! Are we carpooling to the palace?”
The blood drains from my head. Suddenly dizzy, I stumble to a stop on the first stair. Because the man who said he was part of Maximilian’s staff is opening the rear door of a black car bearing the royal standard. I know who has to be inside that car. No one else in Kapria is allowed to fly those particular heraldic flags.
Rising out of the vehicle is an imposing figure I’d recognize anywhere. His dark brown gaze slides past Liz to settle on me.
The frantic hummingbird in my chest transforms into a soaring eagle, sending the blood rushing back to my head. With my gaze locked with Maximilian’s, I’m vaguely aware of the twins pausing. Of Liz dropping a swift curtsy, and of the way James straightens, abandoning his boyish slouch. But I can’t look away from Kapria’s king, even when he finally breaks the hold his gaze has on me to focus on my brother.
“Lord Dietrich.” Maximilian greets him in his deep, rumbling voice. “I humbly request the privilege of escorting Victoria to the palace in my vehicle. I have arranged for your car to follow.”
As one person, the twins swing their eyes back to me. In shocked silence they stare for a beat. Then James recovers. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
Immediately another figure—I dimly recognize Geoffrey Meier, the king’s personal assistant—swoops in to greet James and Liz, and to escort them toward the second car.
Finally my feet begin working again, though I can’t feel my legs. Or my face. But my heart, oh. There’s so much feeling, and it thumps madly with each step I take toward my future. The king is dressed as formally as he was yesterday at the signing, but no longer in uniform. Instead his perfectly tailored tuxedo emphasizes the breadth and strength of his shoulders. And I’d forgotten how tall he was. When I met him before at my father’s funeral, he seemed to overwhelm everything. But grief had been overwhelming, too. My heart had been filled with it then.
Now there’s just Maximilian.
“I expected you to look lovely, Victoria.” His voice is low, and as intimate as the dark gaze that skims my figure. “But you are absolutely ravishing.”
I’m not a blusher. But I’m blushing now. My tongue tangles for the first time in years, but I manage an inane “Your Majesty looks very handsome, as well.”
Strong fingers grip mine. “I am ‘Maximilian’ to you.”
With firm lips, he presses a lingering kiss to my knuckles. My blush spreads to every inch of my skin. My entire body feels as if it’s floating as his broad hand settles at the small of my back and guides me to the car. Separated from the front seat by a screen of tinted glass, the spacious interior holds two wide benches upholstered in buttery-soft leather. I slide into the forward-facing seat and, as he settles his big body across from me, I have to persuade myself that this isn’t a dream. That he really is there. That I really am staring at Maximilian. Simply sitting in silence and holding his gaze.
But he seems content to do the same. Neither of us says anything as the car smoothly pulls away from the house. He appears at ease, with his long legs stretched out toward me, his feet on either side of mine, and one arm slung along the back of the seat. But no one who was truly at ease would look at me like Maximilian is. The intensity of his gaze says that while his body is at rest, his mind is busy—and that I’m his only focus.
Suddenly every second that I’ve spent preparing for this moment counts for nothing. I’m not usually shy or at a loss for words. A large part of the work that I’ve done for years is simply talking with people, making them feel noticed and paying attention to their interests—and there’s no one in the world who I’ve studied more than Maximilian. But right now, I seem to be his only interest. I wasn’t prepared for that.
And nothing in my life has prepared me for the way my body is reacting to his presence. Not a single erotic fantasy or the touch of my own hands drew a response as quickly as sharing this confined space does. Every emotion that heated into a blush on the surface of my skin has burned its way deep inside—but I don’t think it shows. I pray it doesn’t show. Because I’m sitting primly across from Kapria’s king with my pussy hot and wet, and with my nipples hard and aching.
On a shuddering breath, I clench my thighs tighter and subtly shift in my seat. The small movement seems to break the chain connecting my gaze to Maximilian’s. His focus shifts downward, to my hips or my legs. I draw another trembling breath, looking past his wide shoulders to the darkened privacy window that separates us from the driver and another man.
No. Not just any man. Karl Sauer.
I can’t stop my laugh. When Maximilian’s gaze raises to mine again, his eyebrows arched in silent query, I tell him, “I thought Mr. Sauer was playing a joke on me. But he truly is in Your Majesty’s employ.”
His response steals my breath. It’s not the smile that I saw during the public broadcast yesterday, which was unusual in itself, but a wide grin that seems just on the edge of a laugh. All the times I’ve imagined those lips, they’ve rarely been smiling; instead I’ve often pictured myself kissing the firm, determined line of his mouth until it softens. But from this day forward, I’ll imagine kissing that grin.
I imagine it now as Maximilian replies, “Karl’s in charge of my security—and he’s a friend who can be discreet when necessary. But I suppose it is easier to believe it was a joke than to believe that a royal jackass like me could have a friend.”
Delight ripples through me. Despite all that I knew about him, I didn’t know he would make fun of himself, and it allows me to feel comfortable enough to tease in return, “But only an American, so it is not much of a recommendation of Your Majesty’s character.” But remembering how I’d thought that James might have known Sauer, I realize when Maximilian must have developed that friendship. “Was the acquaintance made during Your Majesty’s service in the militia?”
Which Maximilian had been doing when King Leopold died, and he’d left the militia to take the crown. Like James, he’d been in an international unit involved in U.N. peacekeeping missions, which would have brought him into contact with troops from other countries.
“I did.” Slowly the laughter fades from his eyes. “If you thought it was a joke, does that mean you believed I wouldn’t keep my promise?”
“No.” Truthfully, no. Despite losing hope as the years passed, my faith in his honor didn’t waver. But a kingdom is not ruled by h
onor alone—and neither is a heart. “Not if you could help it. But life is not always in our control.”
“Perhaps it is not.” His voice deepens. My heart skips wildly as he sits forward, reaching into his jacket pocket and withdrawing a small velvet box. “But I hope you will wear this in the knowledge that I will always keep my promises to you, Victoria—and that if it is my control, we will share a long and successful marriage.”
Now I know this isn’t a dream. In a dream, I would be able to clearly see the ring he shows me instead of viewing the glittering diamond through a sheen of tears. In a dream, I would reply in a strong voice, instead of a wavering and thin, “I promise to do the same.”
Gripping my hand, he slides the diamond onto my finger, then gently pulls me closer. My heartbeat thunders in my ears as I look up at him. Softly his lips touch mine, then more firmly. A kiss to seal our promises to each other.
My first kiss.
My heart’s a soaring, tumbling mess as he sits back to gaze intently at me again. Valiantly I fight to keep the tears that fill my eyes from spilling over.
Still my voice is hoarse as I ask, “Will we be making the official announcement tonight?”
“No. Tonight we will only celebrate the trade agreement and your father’s invention.” His mouth quirks into a smile. “Let those who notice your ring wonder about it. We’ll tease them all a bit.”
Everyone will notice a diamond this size. But even without the ring, the king showing up to an event with a woman at his side would catch attention. “And keep everyone talking about Kapria.”
“That is the hope.” He hesitates briefly, his smile fading and his eyes darkening. “They will be talking about you. Simply arriving at the palace with me will change everything for you. Tonight, a security team will escort you home—we’ll provide additional staff for you there, as well. And you will need to ask your personal assistant to coordinate with my assistant and with my social secretary.”
“I don’t have a personal assistant.”
“I will assign one to you, then. Or you may choose your own, but she will need to be vetted.” His intense gaze searches mine. “You understand that from this day forward, your time will not be yours alone?”
I nod, studying his face. He’s no longer at ease. Tension has returned to his expression, deepening the lines bracketing his firm mouth. I want to smooth them away again. “I understand perfectly.”
Despite that reassurance, his voice has a rasping edge when he leans forward and takes my hands in his. “I am demanding a great deal of you, Victoria, by asking you to be my queen. Kapria will demand even more. Have you any doubts?”
“None.” I have been serving Kapria for years. I know what the kingdom demands.
And he must know that I’m prepared for it. If a personal assistant is vetted, then no doubt a future queen is, too—promise or no promise. King Maximilian very likely has been told everything there is to know about me, and is aware of everything I’ve done for the past twenty-eight years.
And it all must have met with his approval. Because his response is to lift my hands to his lips, to kiss the back of each one. And those small caresses are not enough.
With my heart in my throat, I venture, “Your Majesty—”
“Maximilian.”
“—may I do something that I have wished to do for a very long time?”
His voice deepens to a vow. “If it is in my power, I will grant any wish you have.”
Instantly twelve years of longing bursts free and propels me across the space between our seats. Maximilian catches me. For a moment, the sheer joy of finally being in his arms overwhelms every other feeling. Then other sensations begin seeping through—the heavy muscle of the thigh that I’m straddling, the rock hardness of the chest that my hands are braced against, the firm mouth that’s opening beneath my lips and the warm breath mingling with mine.
Then his big palm cups the back of my neck and draws me into a deeper kiss. A whimper of helpless pleasure escapes me as a hot lick across the seam of my lips coaxes them apart, and the breaking dam of pent-up longing becomes a torrent of sheer desire. I slick my tongue across his, seeking his heat and his flavor and finding pleasure that I didn’t know could stab so hard and so deep.
Gripping his lapels, I pull myself as close to his body as I can, desperate to feel all of him against me. As I lick into his mouth again, Maximilian makes a rough sound in the back of his throat, a reverberating groan that seems to echo from my lips to my toes, vibrating across every nerve ending and bringing them to brilliant life. The tension in the hard thigh between mine is suddenly an unbearable tease, and I can’t stop the slow rocking of my hips, rubbing my overheated core against that steely muscle.
With another rough groan, Maximilian wraps his arm around my waist and drags me even closer, until I’m centered over the iron length straining the front of his trousers. He grinds up between my thighs, the thick ridge of his erection stroking my clit through the thin barrier of my panties. My inner muscles clench in a spasm of ecstasy. I cry out into his mouth, rolling my hips to match the rhythm of his. My fingers clutch at his shoulders, trying to anchor myself against the frantic tide of pleasure, meeting every ravenous thrust of his tongue with a hungry lick.
Then abruptly he stops, throwing his head back against the seat, his teeth clenched in a tortured grimace. Doubt and worry assail my heart.
Was I too forward? Have I already made a terrible misstep?
Hands braced against his heaving chest, I look down at his face. An aroused flush deepens the color of his tan, except where tension has whitened the taut skin of his jaw. His arm still clutches me tightly against his thick erection.
This isn’t a rejection, I realize. It’s his desperate attempt to regain control.
“Forgive me, Victoria,” he rasps. “I did not mean to take that so far.”
I don’t point out that I was the one who started it—or that I wouldn’t mind finishing it. My ragged breaths pass through lips that feel swollen and hot, and the inner walls of my pussy are clenching hard enough to ache, my clit throbbing to the same beat as my pounding heart. I’m wound so tight that I could probably orgasm just by rubbing my clit the length of his cock a few more times.
But I’m also stunned. I knew that I wanted him. I just didn’t expect this to be so…explosive. I don’t lose control. I simply don’t. But the fact is, I only meant to kiss him and ended up humping his leg like a dog.
Not that he seems to mind. When he looks up at me, there’s only amusement and pleasure and frustration in his eyes.
“We should have taken the scenic route,” he says gruffly.
Because we’re already at the edge of Kapria’s capital city. We will arrive in the palace within minutes—not enough time to follow through on this eruption of need, and just enough time to recover from it.
“I have no complaints regarding my view during this drive,” I tell him. “I thought it quite handsome.”
When he flashes that grin in response, I give in to temptation and swiftly kiss his smiling mouth.
I draw back before losing myself again, then begin disentangling my skirt from around my legs and his. His big hand remains curved around my hip, and he seems reluctant to let me go farther away than arm’s length, but finally releases me.
I sit across from him again, feeling utterly pleased, and content to end this journey as I began—by simply looking at my king. But ‘simply looking’ tells me that we need to do more.
I open my clutch purse and withdraw a pre-moistened tissue. I hold it out to him, and when he gives me a puzzled glance, I gesture to my lips—which I’m sure are smeared as red as his are. “We want to tease the press when we arrive together, not scandalize them.”
“Given a few more minutes, I’d have scandalized the fuck out of them,” he replies and takes the tissue. “Unless I can clean my cum from between your thighs as easily as we can wipe away lipstick.”
Now I’m the one who’s a little scandal
ized, though determined not to show it. “I wouldn’t know,” I tell him blithely as I flip open my compact mirror and begin repairing my hair and makeup.
I assume by his silence that he’s also cleaning the lipstick from his mouth, but as the seconds tick by, the air in the car seems to thicken. I glance at Maximilian and find him staring at me with an expression that I can’t interpret—except that it’s hotter and more intense than anything I saw while we were kissing.
With a deep rumble in his voice, he echoes, “You wouldn’t know…about a man’s cum between your thighs?”
I’m blushing again. I don’t know how he does that to me. “No. Of course not. We were betrothed.” Then I arch my brows and challenge, “Did you?”
The second that I ask, I wish I hadn’t. Because I’m fairly certain that he hasn’t been with anyone since taking the crown. At least, not that has ever been reported or even rumored. But maybe he was discreet. And a sick pain suddenly fills my chest at the thought of him sleeping with anyone else while I was waiting and waiting and waiting, and would have happily come to his bed—
“No.” That fiery intensity in his gaze hasn’t faded. “I haven’t.”
Giddy relief and an oddly possessive satisfaction roll through me. “My lipstick is still smearing Your Majesty’s lips.”
“Next time, it’ll be your pussy juices all over my mouth.” As my eyes fly wide in shock, those lips flatten with determination. “I won’t wait until our wedding, Victoria. It’s too damn far away.”
“The wedding’s not even scheduled yet,” I point out faintly, still catching my breath—but also pleased. As much as I’ve learned from studying Maximilian, there’s much more to discover….and his private face is apparently much different from his public face.
His mouth is also a lot dirtier. “Considering that I almost buried my cock in your cunt within a half hour of seeing you, at this point any wedding date will be too long to wait.”
“That’s true enough,” I agree dryly, thinking of how long I’ve already waited—then laugh, suddenly recalling what I intended to do if I had to wait even one more day.
