The Proposal Problem: A Billionaire Royal Hangover Romance

by Natalie Knight

  I can’t believe it’s happening—no, I can’t believe it’s happened.

  I’m married. And to a fucking Prince. To fucking Anton.

  To the man I’ve loved for—I don’t even know how long.

  Really, I don’t.

  And now, I’m his Queen.

  Well, really a princess, but Queen has a nicer ring to it. It’ll only be a matter of time anyway before that old lady croaks.

  I smile at the thought of one day being a real Queen.

  Ex-party girl turned European monarch. Admittedly, it has a nice ring to it.

  The old hag will definitely be rolling in her grave as I put on her shoes. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Her style is terrible. Her actual shoes, we’ll burn.

  Reeling from a powerful afterglow, I continue to lie there. Maybe one day I’ll be able to soak it all in, but certainly not today.

  I toy with the beading of my dress and sigh, feeling completely satisfied—well, almost.

  The ache in my core starts to build again as I mull over everything that just happened. My cunt pulsates as the thought of being Queen, standing next to Anton, my King.

  It’s so fucking hot.

  I look back at him, and my tension grows. Him in that tuxedo with sex hair sends daggers straight to my cunt. And knowing that there are people out there waiting, watching as I fuck him in the carriage, intensifies my craving.

  Before he finishes zipping his pants, I straddle him once again.

  “Your Queen needs an encore,” I say, eagerly.

  His gaze turns from sated to sensual in seconds.

  God, I love this man. Always willing and ready to please me…as many times as I ask.

  I’ve avoided this for as long as possible. Not wanting to admit to him or to myself that I do love him. The thought alone pissed me off.

  And now we’re here.

  I’m here. Straddling him, wearing his ring and a wedding dress, calling him my King.

  I grind on his dick, feeling it grow underneath me. My body tingles, and my cunt aches at his movement. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of his cock.

  And luckily, I can die trying to.

  It looks like there are some benefits to marriage after all. His hands grab the sides of my head, pulling my lips to him. He kisses me.

  It’s gentle at first—he’s taunting me—making me wait for it.

  I kiss him back, firmly and passionately, pleading for more.

  I reach for his dick, freeing it from the briefs he just tucked it into, and pump it hard.

  My need for him is insatiable. He lays me back down on my Reem Acra royal wedding dress, fingering my clit before he plunges into me.

  I gasp, not prepared for his fullness. But naturally, the wetness of my cunt lubes around him, easing him into me, and I stretch, holding on to him firmly.

  “God, you’re so fucking tight.”

  I push against him, forcing his dick deeper into me, guiding him to that euphoric spot.

  “Fuck me, harder,” I direct, moaning as he moves more quickly.

  Staring down at me, he cups my jaw and kisses me forcefully.

  “You’re the hottest damn Queen, Percy.”

  Fuck yes, I am!

  I kiss him back, matching his desire.

  He pounds into me, hard. My head hits the back of the carriage, and I reach up to steady myself. The dress helps to cushion the blow somewhat, and I find myself thanking marriage, once again.

  I smile, realizing that sex in a carriage—in a royal carriage—is a first for me.

  I’ve fucked in a lot places, in a lot of cities with many people…but never a carriage.

  And to think, out of all of the powerful men who’ve fallen in love me, a prince is the one who takes me down with him.

  I never saw that one coming. Or I did, I just didn’t want it or know it…yet.

  A girl’s gotta learn for herself what she wants and what she doesn’t want. And for me, that takes fucking time.

  I could’ve been arm candy for many CEO’s or Governor’s, or I could’ve been a football or basketball wife. I really had my pick of the litter, after such a long and illustrious career of being a sugar baby.

  But none of those men—all attractive and powerful as they might be—had the ability to handle me. Not like Anton. They never made me feel the way I do with him.

  He makes me feel good about myself, not just by supporting me, as he has done many times—and in many places—but by giving me the freedom to be myself.

  He lets me run wild and free. And is always there to catch me if and when I fall.

  The other men—or daddies—never had the capability of putting me in my place…if I get out of line, which is rare.

  They would try, but it was pitiful. Honestly, they never had a chance in hell.

  But with Anton, he knows exactly what to do and say to bring me back to him and down to earth.

  Who would’ve thought that a royal prince, with a bitch of mother—snotty and trite—could handle me? And make me fall in love with him?

  I grab his face and kiss him, passionately, adoringly.

  Some would call it sweet, but not me.

  He breaks away from me and smirks, not expecting that type of kiss as he’s fucking me hard on top of my wedding dress, against the wall of a carriage.

  I shrug, not giving a fuck what he thinks, but happy I can still surprise him.

  I wrap my arms around him, ignoring the bruise forming on my head, and buck my hips against him.

  I need a fucking release…now!

  He thrusts harder and faster, hitting my spot each time.

  “Fuck, Anton. Harder. I need it, harder.”

  My nerves wind up, and I’m almost there, about to explode. I feel the ache gnawing at my core, and my cunt begins to vibrate.

  His muscles tense, and he steadies his grip, pounding into me like a fucking jack rabbit.

  “Fuck! I’m coming!” I scream, his dick igniting and unraveling my nerves.

  He grunts, and then he releases as well, spilling into me. Filling me with his cum.

  My ears ring, my vision grows fuzzy. The force of our combined orgasms tears through me in waves, reality blurring at the edges.

  Regaining consciousness, I silently thank God for the galloping horses and the loose gravel. If not for them, this carriage would be on its side by now.

  I loosen my hold on him, and run my fingers up and down his spine, occasionally pinching his ass.

  His eyes meet mine, and a charming smile forms on his face.

  He’s quite the Silver Fox.

  I laugh. “Is my King satisfied?”

  “Barely.”

  I tilt my head, my curiosity piqued.

  “I’ll never get enough of you, my Queen.”

  “You’re fucking cheesy as hell, my King.”

  “Comes with age and wisdom.”

  He kisses me.

  He puts his head on my chest, slowly steadying his breath as I cradle his head, playing with his silver hair.

  My damn fucking Silver Fox—my King.

  I sigh, yet again sated from my second organism in a royal carriage and the feeling of him on top of me.

  To be Queen…I think I can get used to that.

  All of the other roles—side pieces, arm candy and bleak supporting parts—never fit me. Always too tight or boring.

  But Queen—a role with its own lines, story, and freedom—slides on seamlessly, looking damn good on me.

  And having Anton as King, by my side will compliment it perfectly.

  41

  Anton

  Two Months Later

  The head of my cock hits the back of her throat, and a feral, low growl escapes me.

  Per reflex, I grab the back of her head and fuck her mouth, my hips involuntary wanting more of her.

  “Fuck, Perce,” I groan as my balls tighten, preparing for my release.

  My wife’s fucking hot—I’m very aware of that—but goddamn is she gorgeous w
ith my cock in her mouth.

  I’d argue it’s one of the seven wonders of the world—a wonder specifically made for me.

  Grasping the base of my shaft, she sucks and pulls the head of my cock to her full pink lips.

  The friction of her tight grip, slick tongue, and the sight of her on her knees has me fucking panting.

  It truly is a great fucking day to become king.

  She looks up at me, her eyes glossed over with desire.

  Damn, I could come just looking at her…like this.

  She twirls her tongue, delicately and playfully licking around my thickness.

  Working her way down to my balls, she sucks them into her mouth, massaging them with her tongue and fingers my taint. I hiss as she grazes them lightly with her teeth.

  She’s fucking relentless, and I’m hooked, always aching and needing my next fix.

  Pounding into her roughly, I jerk, electricity shocking my every nerve.

  I moan loudly, not giving a fuck about the people right outside the door.

  A king getting blown by his queen should be the least of their worries.

  At least they can be rest assured that I’ll be one fucking happy king, especially with Percy as my queen.

  I grin at the thought and thrust my cock into her greedy mouth.

  She groans, finding pleasure in sucking me dry, taking and controlling me by my cock.

  She does love the power—always has.

  And goddamn, she’s beautiful. My aggravating, fierce, and ravenous wife.

  I’ve never loved her more than I do now—and not just because she has my cock in her mouth.

  Each day, I fall in love with her all over again.

  How could I not? There’s always something new about her to fall in love with.

  She challenges me, forcing me to explore parts of the world—parts of ourselves—in ways I never could imagine. It’s exhilarating.

  I frequently consider myself to be living in an X-rated, Skinemax version of a fairytale.

  It sounds fucking tacky, I know.

  She reminds me of that every time I look at her adoringly, but I don’t fucking care. It’s what she did and continues to do to me. I melt when I’m around her.

  I can’t even imagine what I would do with the line of women my mother wanted me to marry. Missionary would’ve been too adventurous for them.

  Easily, Percy puts every woman to shame—in the most satisfying and glorious ways.

  Grabbing and caressing my balls, she pulls me out of my thoughts.

  Her mouth continues to devour my throbbing dick, winding me up to the brink of fucking ecstasy.

  I run my hands through her hair, admiring her and that greedy mouth.

  This fucking woman. I can’t get enough.

  My head falls back, reeling from the pleasure rushing through me, and I get a glimpse out the window. Swarms of people are forming on the streets, and there’s a line of people entering the church.

  The coronation’s less than an hour away, where I’ll officially be crowned king.

  Well, really, this is just an ostentatious show for the people. I’ve been a king since my mother passed a few months back.

  Today, I just get to sit on my throne and put a crown on my head…and win over the commonwealth.

  I laugh out loud, recalling Percy’s face when she heard the news of the queen’s death.

  It was the happiest I’ve ever seen her—well, at least without my dick in her cunt and her squirting.

  The best part is, she didn’t even try to hide it for the sake of my feelings.

  Another reason I love her. She’s unabashedly herself, no matter the situation or circumstance.

  “Something funny?” she asks, her mouth full of my dick.

  “Never…my Queen.” I make sure to call her by her favorite name. It quickly became an easy and an assured way to make her come—though that’s never been a problem for me.

  “Shut up, or I won’t make you come.”

  She releases my dick, challenging me.

  The lack of her touch intensifies my ache. It’s almost painful.

  God, she’s maddening.

  My dick throbs—stiffening to the point of agony—as I watch her lips curl into a mischievous smirk.

  Before I could plead my innocence, she plunges my dick back in her mouth.

  I groan in both pain and pleasure, the walls around me shaking.

  My muscles start to tense, and my balls tighten. “I’m going to fucking explode.”

  She looks up at me, eager for my cum.

  Her lips wrap around the head of my cock. Her tongue tastes my precum, and her hands knead my balls.

  It’s fucking orgasmic.

  One deep thrust and my cock hits the back of her mouth…again.

  I bend my knees, grounding myself for an earth-shattering quake on the cusp of ripping through me.

  I clutch her head and level myself with my other hand on the wall.

  Electricity pulsates through my body. Every fiber of my being is on fire, and I release.

  Moaning loudly, I take her head and pump her mouth with my cum, filling her.

  She swallows diligently, taking every ounce hungrily.

  Slowly sliding me out of her, she licks off the leftover cum, making sure to taste every last bit of it.

  I lean against the wall, trying to catch my breath and relax. I sigh and watch her clean up her work. I’m mesmerized by this woman.

  Once she’s finishes, I grab my dick and tuck it back into my pants.

  She stands up and brushes down her dress, assessing for any possible damage from her expertly executed blowjob.

  I eye her up and down, reveling in her presence.

  My gaze heats as I stare at her ruby-red satin dress. It’s fucking jaw-dropping.

  It perfectly Percy—fiery, bold, and fitting for a queen.

  My eyes light up as I see how it presents her tits, cradling and lifting them up deliciously. It’s almost pornographic—I swear, it’s something crafted by a man’s wet dream.

  My dick aches at the sight of her standing there.

  I’m certain the pretentious assholes invited to the ceremony will glare and scold her behind closed doors. But it wouldn’t be Percy without turning a few heads.

  It wouldn’t be the woman I fell in love with.

  And she’s the fucking queen—my queen—so she can do whatever the fuck she wants, not like that ever stopped her before.

  I moan, enjoying her primping and prodding herself.

  She meets my gaze, smirking as she shimmies her breast and ass toward me.

  I cross my arms, leaning on the wall, and laugh at her.

  I don’t think I can say it enough—I fucking love her.

  “So, my king, are you ready to be crowned?” she asks, stalking toward me.

  Pressing her hands on my chest, she kisses me, tasting me, and my dick pulses.

  “Keep kissing me like that and I’ll be the first king in history hard as fuck on his coronation day.” I wink.

  “Well, I always knew I’d make it into the history books. It’s my work, after all…King.” Her voice lingers on my title.

  I love the sound of her saying my name—whatever name that might be at the moment.

  “So what’re your plans for us after this?” I ask her, grabbing and pressing her body against mine.

  I bite her bottom lip and passionately kiss her. I hope to find myself in a similar position…as soon as this thing is over.

  After making out, and effectively hardening my dick, she pulls back.

  “Well…Mysti May invited us to Tijuana for the summer…” She grins wickedly, and her eyes sparkle in excitement.

  I laugh, not expecting that answer. But my body responds to the warmth and unspoken promise she’s expressing.

  “That’s sure to be an…adventure,” I allow.

  More than just an adventure, knowing Percy and her crazy friends.

  “Is that a yes?” she asks me.


  “Tijuana…ready or not, here we come.”

  “Nothing, and nowhere, is every ready for us.” She smirks, then kisses me.

  That’s for goddamn sure.

  And here’s to hoping Tijuana can handle Queen Percy…as well as I can.

  If I’ve learned anything about my wife and her friends, it’s that we’ll have the best time in the world…that we’ll never remember.

  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Big Package

  A Dark Vixens Novella

  Vivien Vale

  Copyright 2018 by Crimson Vixens

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.

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  1

  Michael

  It’s funny, the things that my failed hookups just don’t seem to understand.

  You’d think they’d figure it out eventually. Especially by the time I’m putting them in a fucking cab outside of my mansion and paying the driver to take them home.

  I guess there are just some truths women don’t want to accept.

  “Please, babe!” she begs. “Just give me one more chance! I can take it this time—I totally promise. I swear!”

  “Look, sweetheart…”I gently disentangle her fingers from the collar of my button down and push her hands away. “It’s cute that you think you can handle it, but—”

  “I can,” she insists. “I really, really can. It’s just…it’s so big, babe. Maybe if we tried with more lube or something…”

  The driver gives me one of those looks in the rear view mirror. All I can do is shrug and slip him a couple of hundreds for the inevitable sob story he’s going to be hearing from this girl the whole way back to Long Island.