The Proposal Problem: A Billionaire Royal Hangover Romance

by Natalie Knight

  The thing is, these fuckwits already revealed who they’re working for.

  They’re preserving the secret location, then.

  Which means it’s the first thing I want to find out.

  My captors keep talking back and forth in French. They mention Anton’s name and his mother, Queen Estelle, a couple of times, but that’s about all I can make out.

  When I get out of this, I need to take some French language lessons. From anyone who isn’t Anton, of course.

  I don’t know where I am. I’m guessing it’s an upscale swanky hotel, and I can smell a faint scent of tea.

  I’m forced down onto a chair. The bag is pulled from my head.

  I whip my head from side to side, trying to remove the hair from my eyes.

  I was right. I’m in a swanky hotel.

  Across from me is the pretentious monarch of Menage, Anton’s mother, Queen Estelle.

  The woman is a cantankerous old hag pushing seventy. She had Anton when she was thirty— I’m sure that’s because her dead husband loathed touching her.

  Her hair is as white as a cotton ball. Lines run over her face like a well-traveled road map.

  Her lips are as thin as a bobby pin. And just as rigid.

  Though honestly, the biggest travesty regarding this woman is her fashion sense. Instead of wearing something flattering, she tries instead to dress like famous counterpart from England does—or did—back in the seventies.

  Admittedly, I hold a bit of begrudging respect for the woman. She’s a strong-willed woman who’s run her country adequately, even in the face of those who said she wasn’t capable of doing so. But that’s about the only good thing I can say about the bitch.

  “Mmph. I apologize for how my people treated you, Miss Owens,” she says with feigned sincerity. “Black is obviously not your color.”

  She leans forward, lifts her cup of tea from the table between us. I look over my shoulders at her men in suits looming over me.

  Then I look at my mother-in-law.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you’re heartbroken over it,” I say with a fake smile.

  I lean and pour myself a cup of tea. From the floral and apple smell, I can tell it’s chamomile tea.

  I hate chamomile tea. And she knows it.

  Regardless. I drink it with a smile, just to spite her.

  “I think you’re smart enough to know why I had you brought here, but given your history, I doubt it. Let me tell you, so that there’s no misunderstanding, Miss Owens. Whatever you feel for my son, regardless of whether it’s real or not, is irrelevant.”

  She gets right into the insults.

  I shouldn’t be surprised. I give the woman absolutely no satisfaction by reacting to it.

  Even if I do want to pull her bottom lip over her head and kick her in her dried up, withered box.

  “Irrelevant you say? And why is that?”

  “Simply put, I forbid it.”

  “Ummmm, excuse you?” I blurt out.

  “I forbid you from being with my son. Let alone marrying him.”

  I set my cup of tea on the table before I lose control and throw it in her face.

  The queen takes another sip of hers. Those thin lips curl up into a smile that makes her look like a James Bond villain.

  I get it, she loves her son. Fuck, I love her son. Even if I’m currently in the middle of an internal struggle to deny said love.

  And I get it, she’s the queen of her own country. She’s used to giving orders.

  It’s likely where Anton gets his attitude.

  But like I told Anton earlier, I’m not one of her subjects to be just ordered around.

  I live my life my way. By my rules.

  It may not be the kind of life people like her approve of, but it’s my fucking life to live.

  I make no damn apologizes for it either. And I’m not about to have my future dictated to me by the pastel-clad bride of Jack Skellington.

  “And pray tell, Highness, just how do you plan on preventing me from being with your son?” I ask with more than a bit of hostility.

  I’m pretty certain that her smile has turned into a snarl.

  She looks like a predator, her lips pulled high above her gums. Though, not like the proud lioness I’m sure she imagines herself.

  No, the woman looks like nothing so much as a scavenging hyena.

  It’s unnerving to say the least.

  “I’m the monarch of a sovereign nation. I have the authority to annul any and all marriages entered into by a citizen of my country.”

  “Oh really? So your son’s happiness means nothing to you, does it?”

  “My son’s happiness means everything to me. And he will be happy. Just not with you,” she says sharply.

  “Really? Because let me tell you right now, he’s never going to find another woman that can suck his cock like I can,” I say as I lean forward. “And let me tell you, your son actually has a really nice, big cock, too. It requires someone skilled to do that baby justice.”

  The high and mighty queen drops her tea on the floor. Her eyes go wide in disgust and awe.

  “You know I’ve lost count of how many loads of his cum I’ve swallowed. It’s probably close to the same amount that he’s put in my ass. And your boy just loves to come in my ass.”

  One of her henchmen behind me gasps. The other holds back a laugh.

  I’m pretty sure that the woman in front of me is about to have a heart attack.

  Me? My smile is as wide as the day is long.

  “Who do you think you are?” Estelle finally manages to say.

  “I know exactly who I am. I am your son’s lover. And nobody makes him happier than I do. Especially in the bedroom. Or when I’m letting him bounce his balls off my face on the dance floor,” I declare as I stand from my seat. “In short, Your Grace, I’m Persephone fucking Owens. And not you, or anyone else, is going to forbid me from doing anything I want to do. Ever. So if I want to marry your son, I’m going to fucking marry him. If I want to do these two henchmen of yours in a pool of cherry Jello, I’m going to do it.”

  I turn from her as the color, the little color she has, drains from her face.

  The two henchmen move out of the way as I approach.

  I look over at the gaunt woman in her chair.

  “Thanks for the tea, but next time, can you spring for the good stuff and not the generic off-brand? Tacky, babe. Seriously.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief when the door closes behind me.

  It felt good—damn good—to put that woman in her place. And the look on her face was priceless.

  I just wished her fucking henchmen would have been nice enough to bring my shoes when they black bagged me. I’m going to have blisters by the time I get back to my hotel.

  On the plus side, my little talk with Estelle has done wonders for my restless thoughts. I walk down the hall, smiling broadly, a skip in my step.

  For the first time all day, I have a sense of clarity.

  I know exactly what to do next.

  Sadly for Estelle, her little plan has backfired spectacularly.

  Because the only way for anyone to truly convince me to do something?

  Is to tell me that I can’t.

  39

  Anton

  Saturday 6:30 Pm

  My first act as a married man—properly, this time—is to fuck the mouth of my buxom bride.

  Not just by choice, either. No, if I had it my way, we might have reveled in the joy of our second matrimony in twenty-four hours for a moment or two. I would have held her close, kissed the corners of her mouth and thanked my lucky stars that for once, my mother’s meddling finally paid off.

  But Percy Owens is fucking insatiable.

  And Percy Owens doesn’t like to hear the word no.

  Seconds after closing the carriage door, Percy finds my zipper.

  All I can do is laugh at her brazen attempt to get me undressed, mere minutes after we said I do. I assuredly smile, knowing tha
t I just made the best damn decision…again.

  I think I’ll be one the happiest, most satisfied married man in the world.

  Her ruby red lips purse at the sight of my dick, springing out of my tuxedo pants. She bends down and licks my shaft, teasing it with her skilled tongue.

  I’m already hard for her. Fuck, I’ve been hard since the moment I saw her, and those glorious tits walking down the aisle. The gasps at her unconventional dress only made me ache harder.

  God, I fucking love this woman.

  She stops, and I recoil at the loss of her touch.

  “What the—”

  She looks at me with a devilish grin. Holding my cock and thumbing its prominent vein, she travels up my body, igniting my every nerve.

  I drink her in. Licking my lips and falling in love with the fact that I get to see and experience this—her—every fucking day of my life.

  And now, this. My Percy in a white wedding dress enclosed within a royal carriage.

  Who the fuck would’ve thought?

  Everything about this scene is orgasmic.

  Her breasts bounce ever so slightly as she moves up on me. The strapless corset of the bodice leaves nothing to the imagination.

  She reaches me finally, and I grab her.

  I kiss her aggressively, pinning her to the other corner of the carriage. She falls onto me, whimpering as the heat rises between us. Our tongues fight, playfully against each other, leaving us breathless and hungry.

  She pulls me closer, though her damn fucking dress impedes any skin-on-skin contact.

  “What the fuck, Percy? This god damn dress!”

  I fumble with the material, trying to move it out of my way, but having little luck.

  “Not a fan?” she laughs.

  “Oh, I love it on you,” I reassure her. “But I’d love it much more if it was in fucking tatters on the floor.”

  “That can be arranged,” she says with a smirk, her eyes wild with desire.

  My lips crash back into hers, and I hear her faintly laugh as the momentum quickens.

  My hands blindly explore underneath the dress, searching for her legs, her cunt…anything.

  Finally, I make contact.

  Though it might look unconventional to a traditionalist, given that her tits are spilling out of it, her dress is modest. The number of fucking layers I had to go through to find her is ridiculous.

  Worth it—always worth it—but…totally fucking ridiculous all the same.

  Desperate for more contact. I grasp at her thighs, and my hands make their way to her cunt. She opens her legs, inviting me. I feel the heat radiating from her wet pussy, but I refrain from lathering its wetness…for now.

  I distract her by nibbling on her neck, lips, ear…

  “I can’t believe you said you’d blow me in your vows,” I say, teasing her ear with my tongue, biting her earlobe.

  “I can’t lie in church—isn’t that a sin?” she says, her breathing becoming shallow.

  “I’m sure you’ve done worse than sin in church,” I laugh.

  I know for a fact that it’s true. I’ve been there, sinning beside her, inside her.

  “They asked so I told them. Infinite blowjobs, babe. That’s what I vow to you. Excuse me if the Queen or commonwealth doesn’t approve. I’ve never cared before, why should I start now?”

  She begins to writhe underneath my touch. Keeping her cunt hungry, my fingers explore the uncharted or less cared for regions of her thighs—around, above, behind her cunt.

  “Did you have to tell them everything?”

  “A good wife doesn’t lie. And seeing as I’m such a good wife, I vow to let you fuck my ass, fill my mouth with your cum and orgasm around your cock. I’ll even sport the occasional ball gag, handcuffs, and blindfold if you fancy. So, really…I’m just being honest.”

  She does have a point.

  She takes my hand and places it on her clit, impatience getting the best of her.

  I smirk. She’s never been good at waiting.

  I rub her clit, relentlessly, stroking and massaging it until I get her on the brink of release.

  I pause. Her eyes open, glaring at me as if she’ll murder me.

  “Don’t fucking stop.”

  “Did you see my mother’s face?” I ask, kissing her.

  I continue to play with her clit, occasionally sliding a finger inside her cunt.

  “Why would I look at your mother’s face?”

  She sighs. I smile, releasing the pressure from my fingers.

  “She looked as if she was going to have a heart attack.”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t drop dead the moment I said, ‘I do.’”

  She looks at me with all seriousness and grabs my hand to stop me from finishing her.

  “You know one day, you’ll be king.”

  Her eyes sparkle. I’m almost afraid of what she might say or do next.

  “You’ll be my king.”

  She bunches up the ridiculous amounts of material around her and between us, and straddles me. I unzip the back of her dress, undoing the random buttons that clasp the corset together and pull it off her.

  “Hey! I was kidding about you ripping this dress off me!”

  “I need it gone. I can barely touch you.”

  I peel it away from her body, layer by awful fucking layer. She’s naked underneath.

  I smirk, and my gaze heats as I marvel over how fucking sexy she is.

  She would wear nothing underneath her royal wedding dress.

  Laying the heavy fabric on the other side of the carriage, she eyes me, challenging me.

  “Fuck me on it.”

  A low growl escapes me. “There’s nothing I’d rather do.”

  Straddling me, I grab her waist and bend her down on the dress. I rub her chest, stomach, and knead her tits as I do, pinching and twisting them.

  The site of her spread out on a white dress, naked—and in a royal fucking carriage with millions of people watching—is fucking mind blowing. My cock throbs as I take it all in.

  “What would you do for your King?” I ask, continuing to torture her nipples.

  Answering me, she reaches between her legs, rubbing her clit.

  I kiss her heated skin, making a path of bite marks as I travel to her cunt.

  Moving her hand away, I replace it with my tongue.

  She moans and grabs my head, pinning me to her. My tongue tastes her wetness. She’s delicious…and addicting.

  “Well, if you’re my King, I’d be your Queen. So really, what would you do for your Queen?” she groans and bucks her hips against my mouth, now devouring her.

  I smirk. Point taken.

  My hands caress and glide up her thighs, fingering her tight, wet cunt while my tongue licks and sucks her clit.

  “My Queen,” I murmur. “I’d diligently serve you. Morning, noon, and night.”

  I flick my tongue for emphasis.

  “Mmmm.” she whimpers.

  “Bowing at feet. On my hands and knees. Every carnal desire cared for. Attentively. Passionately.”

  She looks at me with a wild expression. Pulling my tongue off her clit, she pushes me back against the carriage and reaches for my dick, stroking and lubing it with precum.

  Without warning, she slides onto me, filling herself with me. my dick hardens as her tight pussy cradles it. Holding on to my chest, I grasp at her ass, and she rides me.

  Slow at first, building up the pace.

  “You’d obey me?” she asks, her eyes full of greed.

  Her mouth is inches away from mine. Her tits bounce as she pulls me in and out. I grab her nipple with my mouth, playing with it with my tongue.

  She hisses and tilts her head back, letting out a loud moan.

  “My Queen, your wish is my command.”

  She replies with a low groan, liking the sound of that. Pounding my cock into her at record speed, I can feel her getting closer by the second.

  I grit my teeth, feeling my balls tig
hten and my muscles tense. I’m ready.

  “Fuck!” she shouts. “My King, fuck me!”

  And like I said I would, I obeyed. Grabbing onto her waist, I fuck her, pushing her down on to me. Meeting her at every thrust.

  I thumb her clit, tortuously rubbing it. I feel her body shake, her breathing shallow.

  Her fingers pull at my hair, nails digging into my skin, and she forces my head in between her tits. She gasps, and I feel her tight pussy clench, milking my cock as she comes. Her body tenses and quivers.

  “Ahh, fuck. Yessss.”

  Her body relaxes slowly, and she catches her breath, still holding me. I quickly pull out of her and throw her on top of her dress.

  She looks surprised at first, but then her mouth grows into a mischievous grin.

  “Come for me, my King. Come on your Queen,” she pants, licking her lips, eyes looking hungrily.

  Clutching the dress, she arches her back and lifts her tits, presenting them as targets.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” I grunt as I stroke my cock tightly.

  Staring directly at her, I release my cum, coating her breasts and stomach.

  She watches raptly, biting her lip as my fountain of cum cascades on her.

  I fall back onto the cushion, calming my nerves and catching my breath. I watch Percy dip her fingers into my cum, licking it slowly off her, savoring my taste.

  Fuck. She’s amazing.

  “My King, you taste delicious,” she smiles and bites her lip.

  “And so do you, my Queen.”

  40

  Percy

  Saturday 6:45 Pm

  Lying on my wedding dress naked with some leftover cum on my tits, I turn my head towards the window to see hundreds of people waving at the carriage.

  I look back to find Anton, tucking his cock back in his pants, staring out towards the crowd.

  This is perfect. I revel in this moment.

  Both amazed at what I’m looking at and shocked that I’m here. Truly, never in a million years could I have seen this coming.

  I’ve never been so fucking in love with this man—and myself—as I am right now.

  Naked in a royal fucking carriage while millions of people stare, eagerly waiting to see me. It’s insane—beautifully insane.