Lucky Prince_A Fake Fiance, Real Royal Wedding Romance

by Eva Luxe

  “Where the fuck is Ambrosia?” Gloria asks, like the idiot she always is.

  “It’s on the Baltic Sea,” I tell her, “and I’m going to have sex on the Baltic Beach.”

  “Since when did you become such a slut?” Sheila asks me. “You’ve always been such a prude.”

  “Look who’s talking,” I shoot back. “Oh, and the answer to your question is that meeting Prince charming can certainly transform a girl.”

  I’m proud of my saucy retort, even though the real answer is that I was never a prude in my mind, in my fantasies. My dirty, filthy romance books that Paul loved to hate on are full of tons of sex. My favorite part is the steamy bonus story at the very end, which is icing on top of all the other yummy layers of the very delicious cake.

  Now, I still have all those same thoughts but I also have someone to act them out with in real life. My Prince Charming and I get to have our own happy ever after at the end of our book, and our own steamy bonus story after that.

  “What’s going to happen to me now?” my stepmother asks, her lips trembling. Apparently, her fate isn’t going to be as good as mine is. She’ll probably be in a book about evil characters from famous fairy tales, or something. “Am I just going to be destitute?”

  “Oh please,” I tell her. “There’s plenty of money there to live off for a while until you have to get a real job.

  “Why, I have no idea what I’ll do,” she says, running her hand through her hair. “It’s not like Ted has money…”

  Uh huh. I knew it. She does have a boyfriend already. Oh well, it’s not my business; I’m leaving.

  And I can’t help but take pity on her. I realize she married my dad for money and she’s a complete bitch to me but I just don’t have it within me to return the nastiness. I’m completely happy for the very first time in my life since both my mother and father were alive.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell her, as I go upstairs to pack my bags. “I’m sure there are some spreadsheets you can fill out and some invoices you can send. And all of that. You can have my former job doing office work in the dungeon.”

  She frowns but actually looks like she’s considering it. I suppose she’s so mean because she’s angry and scared and doesn’t know what to do with herself. But none of those things are my problem. I’m finally learning to take control of my own life.

  I quickly throw a few things into a suitcase, enough to get me to Ambrosia where Gregory says my every need will be taken care of. I don’t want to take much from my old life. I have everything I need except three people I’m going to see right now, and who can always come visit me anytime they want, in my new faraway kingdom.

  *

  A few hours later Aunt Ashley, Sharon, Nikki and Gregory and I are getting really dirty. By that I mean that our hands are covered in food grease and we’re up to our elbows in shucked corn.

  “It’s really nice of you to let me see what you do on Saturdays,” Gregory tells me and I can’t help but laugh at the fact that he remembered the day that I’m usually here even though it’s Monday today, and Paul couldn’t remember after nearly a year of us being together.

  “Yeah well I appreciate you helping me carry out my mother’s purpose and now helping me honor my father’s memory as well,” I say.

  “There’s nothing I like better than cooking,” Nikki interjects and I laugh because I know she’s being facetious. She hates to cook. But she loves me and always helps me. “But seriously I’m really glad I got to see you before you were whisked away to some far away land in your new life as a princess,” she says.

  “Me too,” Nikki says, and comes over to kiss me on my cheek.

  Aunt Ashley comes up to me and gives me a hug, our aprons bumping into each other in the process.

  “I’m really gonna miss you, kiddo,” she says. “But I’m so proud of you.”

  “This is all thanks to my fairy godmother,” I tell her. “And you know you can come visit me anytime.”

  Soon it’s time for the homeless to be served so we stand in line to feed them dinner.

  “We’re sure going to miss you,” say so many of the different staff, residents and co-volunteers. “We’ll make sure to send you more stories of your mother as we think of them,” they say.

  I can’t believe I’m really leaving.

  But once we’re done volunteering, and my Prince intertwines his dirty fingers with mine to lead me to where our chariot— or his servant driving a limo— awaits outside to take us to our new life, I’m beginning to think that ours is really a fairy tale story.

  Chapter 19

  Ella

  The sun is rising as our plane lands in Ambrosia after an overnight flight and it’s one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen. I’m tired, but it’s the hazy kind of tired that puts me into a dream-like state and makes me feel like I’m viewing everything through a lens of happiness.

  “I’m so glad you could come here with me,” Gregory says, kissing my head.

  “So now that we’re fake married, that’s all I get?” I tease him, lifting my lips up to him for a better kiss. “Fake wifey just gets a peck on the head? I’ve been downgraded, kiss-wise?”

  “All right, all right,” he says, meeting my lips for one of those full, passionate kisses I love so much. “Geez, you drive a hard bargain.”

  “I want breakfast in bed, sex on the Baltic Beach, and long, deep kisses from my Prince,” I demand.

  “I think those are all requests I can fulfill,” he says, with a laugh. “I guess you’re not that hard to please after all.”

  “You two calm down back there,” his mom calls from the seat in front of us. “You’ll make everyone else jealous.”

  Some strangers sitting next to her turn around and smile at us, and she brags to them, “This is my son, I’m sure you know him, Prince Gregory, and his new wife, Princess Ella. Yep, they’re newlyweds.”

  Leave it to Queen Calinda Carrington to make a big spectacle out of everything, I think. But it’s cute that she’s so proud of us. She took the news of the switcharoo quite well, considering. In fact, she seemed relieved that Gregory hadn’t married Julie.

  And she seems to have taken a quick liking to me. I guess you could say she approves of our marriage, even though she knows it’s a fake marriage, and she’s rooting for it to become real. I secretly— or maybe not so secretly— am too.

  “Awww, how sweet,” says one of the ladies, in response to my new “mother in laws” bragging.

  “Is that your name?” asks the other one, extending a hand to me over the seat in between us. “It’s nice to meet you. I could have sworn the papers said something else…”

  “In the United States she goes by Julie, as it’s common to go by your middle name there. But here in Ambrosia she’ll go by Ella since that’s her first name,” Calinda quickly says.

  She’s been prepared with this explanation since Gregory and I talked to her and told her the truth. It’s not much of an “explanation” but it’s the best she could come up with. She thinks it’s better to get out in front of the questions and tell everyone my name up front, rather than the other alternatives we discussed, which were to just wait and see if they remembered Julie’s name, or even to say I’m Julie for a while and then say I’ve decided to by Ella because Julie is harder for the locals to say.

  Gregory had said there’s no way he’s letting anyone call me by that wretched name; they’ll call me by my real name. I was glad he’d said that, and I agreed with him, as I certainly wouldn’t want anyone calling him Paul!

  “I see,” says the lady, with a slightly confused shrug.

  She must not care that much, because she’s quickly onto the next topic of interest.

  “So, I heard you had what Americans call a ‘shindig’ to celebrate your ceremonial marriage in Denver.”

  “Yes,” I tell her, even though no American I know regularly calls anything a “shindig.”

  “And when do you plan to have a real, royal wedding he
re at the Palace?” she asks, boldly.

  I look at Gregory and give an awkward laugh.

  “I don’t know, honey… when do you think?”

  He smiles and says, “As soon as we recover from that big shindig we had out there, ya’ll. Yee haw!”

  The lady gives a frozen smile, clearly not liking the vague answer, and turns back around in her seat after saying “Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you… Ella.”

  I bury my face in Gregory’s chest, trying not to laugh out loud.

  “You really picked up some American English while you were in Denver,” I tell him. “I’m impressed.”

  He shrugs, and whispers, “Whatever it takes to get rid of the lookey-loos.”

  He squeezes my hand and adds, “I like her idea about the real royal wedding, though. We’ll have to look into that.”

  I smile as I snuggle against his strong chest, my face buried into his warm neck.

  I have a feeling I’m going to love living here in Ambrosia. Or anywhere with him.

  ***

  When we arrive at the Royal Palace, I’m stunned by its beauty and splendor. There are crystal staircases, marble floors and stain glassed windows. I can’t believe this is going to be our new home. Everything in my life has changed so much, for the better.

  “I have someone I’d like to introduce you to,” Gregory says, taking my hand and leading me to a bedroom off one of the long hallways.

  “Oh yes,” I tell him, squeezing his hand. “I’m excited to meet your dad.”

  He cautiously opens the door and his dad, who looked as if he was sleeping at first, wakes up quietly, one eye blinking at us.

  “Hey Dad, how are you doing?” Gregory asks, as he approaches him and hands him a glass of water from the bedside table.

  “I’m doing a bit better, these days,” he says, but then he begins hacking and wheezing.

  My heart hurts for the man, and for Gregory. If this is what doing “better” looks like then I would hate to see “worse.” I found the shock of both of my parents’ deaths to be hard, but now I realize I can’t imagine what it would be like to watch them slowly suffer.

  “Dad, I wanted to introduce you to Princess Ella,” Gregory says, motioning for me to step forward.

  I approach the King and hold out my hand.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness,” I say, realizing for the first time I don’t really know what to say when meeting royalty.

  His dad can barely raise his hand to meet mine, let alone shake it, but he smiles and looks up at Gregory.

  “You did a great job, Son.”

  Then to me, he says, “Very pleased to be able to meet you.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Gregory says, almost visibility swelling with pride. “She wasn’t the princess I was going to marry. I pulled a last minute switch.”

  “Your mother told me,” the King says, laughing softly, which causes more wheezing. When it calms down, he says, “You about gave her a heart attack. But I think you did the right thing. Which is what I had told you to do— follow your heart.”

  “You’re right, Dad,” Gregory says. “I followed my heart and it steered me to Ella.”

  The King gently pats my hand. “That’s great. Exactly what I would have wanted for you both.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him.

  “I’m going to give Ella a tour,” Gregory tells his dad. “We’ll be back later.”

  “Sure, Son,” his dad says. “I appreciate you dropping in. Come back whenever you want to play some Gin Rummy,” he says to me, with a wink.

  “I sure will,” I promise.

  Gregory is quiet and somber for a moment as we leave. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about his dad in front of him.

  But as we get further away, his tone becomes more playful.

  “When I told my dad I was giving you a tour, I didn’t mean of the Palace,” he says. “Nor the Castle. Not just yet, anyway.”

  “Oh really?” I ask, loving the mischievous sparkle in his eye.

  “Really. I need to give you a tour of the beach first.”

  “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

  As we walk outside and around the garden and courtyard, I’m amazed at how much land the Palace sits on. And yet also how close to the ocean it is at the same time.

  “This is gorgeous,” I say, looking at the blue expanse of ocean, clearer than I’ve ever seen it look anywhere.

  “Just like your eyes,” Gregory says, pulling me close and kissing me.

  I’ve never felt so comforted as I do in his embrace.

  “Well, I promised you sex on the beach,” he says, leading me to an enclave in the sand, in between two large rock formations. “And the good thing about being royalty is that this is private, secluded land.”

  “Oh darn,” I joke, as he begins removing the blouse I’m wearing. “There goes the excitement of wondering if we’re going to get caught.”

  “Oh,” he says, as he drops my skirt down in the sand, falling beside me shirt. “I wouldn’t say that. There are still a lot of people who can come on the beach. Family and friends of family. Trespassers. Groundskeepers.”

  “I see,” I tell him, as he traces his fingers down my stomach and back up again, before taking off my bra and panties, and my shoes. “I figured you would like it better that way.”

  “Mmmm,” he says, kissing me as he begins to rub my nipples. “I like it any way with you.”

  He lays me down in the sand and the water begins to lap at my legs. His tongue travels up the expanse of my thighs, until it rests on my clit. Then it makes slow circles, teasing, taunting me, drawing it out until finally he’s sucking on it hard and fast as the waves pound our bodies.

  “Yes,” I tell him, feeling electricity running all throughout my body. “That feels so good.”

  I grab his head and move it up and down while he licks and sucks me to the rhythm. He alternates playing with my nipple and then fingering my pussy.

  “Yes,” I cry out, an orgasm causing my whole body to spasm. “Oh my God, Gregory, yes!”

  I lay panting in the water for only just a minute. Because then he flips me over so I’m doggy style in front of him, with my legs spread open, ready to take him. He takes off the clothes he was still wearing and puts on a condom.

  “Are you ready?” he asks. “Here comes your sex on the Baltic Beach.”

  “I’m ready,” I tell him, my pussy throbbing for him, aching for him.

  He plunges his cock into me, filling me up completely. I grab ahold of some sand and rocks, anything to steady my balance while he pounds me like the waves are pounding both of us.

  “I love to fill your tiny, tight pussy hole with my cock,” he says, thrusting in and out of me.

  I reach underneath me and grab a hold of his balls.

  “Oh yeah that feels so good,” he says. “I love it when my good little princess is so dirty and bad.”

  He squeezes my ass and then slaps it.

  “You’re being such a bad little girl,” he says, spanking my ass over and over again, to the rhythm of the rocking ocean.

  I grit my teeth, loving the pleasure mixed with pain as he plows into me.

  “I love how your big cock fills me up,” I yell out, so that he can hear me over the waves. “It’s all the way inside me.”

  “Yeah,” he says, “stuffed deep and tight in your pussy. It’s a perfect fit.”

  I look around to see if anyone else is approaching the beach. They’re not, but Gregory’s right—it’s exciting to think that they could walk up and see him fucking me, making my whole body shake with an orgasm.

  “I’m coming,” I yell out, up into the sky, out into the ocean, my screams joining those of the waves and the seagulls. “I’m coming on your cock.”

  “Good,” Gregory says, thrusting into me, and then I can feel him throbbing inside me. “Because I’m coming too.”

  He grunts and groans, and says “Oh, my little Princess, you make me feel so fuck
ing good.”

  And then we both collapse into the sand, letting the sea meet our most intimate areas, mixing dirt and little rocks and seashells into our hair and our legs.

  “I love you, my Prince Charming,” I tell him, as he reaches his head over to kiss me— deeply and passionately, which is our new rule.

  “I love you too, Princess Ella,” he says. “And I’m so glad I found my perfect fit.”

  Chapter 20

  Ella

  I walk into the airport lobby with one of the royal family’s drivers, Monty. He tried to talk me into staying in the limo, but I’m a princess and I told him, “No way.”

  I’m enjoying walking in two worlds for the moment. It’s been a few weeks and Gregory and I have decided it’s time for the royal wedding, the official wedding. Until tomorrow morning, I’m just a fake Princess of Ambrosia but that means for the rest of today I can be the real Ella from Denver. Accordingly, I’m wearing my favorite pair of faded jeans and a blousy off the shoulder blouse.

  Princess Ella is a celebrity here in Ambrosia, but right now nobody sees me, even with the chauffer following me around. And that’s good, because real Ella’s got plans.

  A pair of shrieks peal across the tiny but luxurious airport, causing my driver, who’s also my bodyguard, to get tense and stand a little closer to me. But then I see Nikki, Sharon and my Aunt Ashley and suddenly my poor chauffer is chasing me the length of the airport as I scream and rush to hug all three of them at once.

  “Oh my God, Ella,” Nikki says, “this place is paradise! It looks so beautiful flying in.”

  “Well, it does get cold in the winter—we’re pretty far north. Still beautiful, but cold. That’s why we waited to have a springtime royal wedding, when everything’s in bloom and the air is filled with—”

  “The sensual sounds of you and your prince having sex on the beach?” Sharon interjects.

  “Sometimes, yeah,” I reply. “The beach, the palace, the guest house, the pool, the kitchen, the other pool…”

  “Okay,” Aunt Ashley admonishes, “let me get to a glass of wine before hearing about my niece’s sex life.”