Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale

by Hayley Faiman

  The music is loud, the room almost black, except for the burst of colored lights that are timed perfectly with the beat coming from the speakers. As we walk up to the security guard, he gives Henrik a nod before he lets us walk right in. Then there’s another guard that meets us with a chin lift, and we follow him toward a roped off area where there’s another guard waiting.

  I wonder who exactly this man is?

  I look around and see that there are several empty loveseats and tables, which have ice buckets set up with bottles of what look like champagne chilling inside. I don’t know much about champagne, since I’ve personally never had any, but I don’t think that this is a normal event.

  I watch with fascination as Henrik walks over, pops a cork from one of the bottles and pours some bubbly liquid into two glasses that are empty and waiting.

  Without speaking, he hands me a full glass before taking a swig from his own. I watch as the liquid works its way down his thick throat. I’ve never seen anything hotter in my life. I lift the glass to my lips and take a tentative sip. Unfortunately, I end up coughing as the bubbles make their way down my throat.

  “Don’t like champagne?” he chuckles.

  “I’ve never had it before,” I shout over the loud music.

  “Never?” he asks, his eyes wide with question.

  I shake my head, my mass of hair flying around my face and shoulders. I watch as he sets his glass down on the table before taking mine from my fingers and setting it down to join his. Then I feel his hands on my waist as he hauls me into his body. His head dips and his lips, just as soft as I imagined, touch my cheek before they press against my mouth.

  “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you reading at the pool earlier,” he whispers in my ear, his lips lightly touching my skin.

  I feel his hands roam down my lower back and cup my ass, then his fingertips lightly touch the skin of my thighs, right below the hem of my dress. They’re firm and his hands are warm, practically melting my dress.

  I lift my arms and move closer against his body. I have never felt this way before with anyone, as if our connection is instant. We don’t need words because our bodies speak what our mouths don’t.

  “You have?” I murmur.

  “At the end of the night, I’ll be doing much more than giving you a kiss on the lips, precious,” he whispers against my neck before his lips touch my sensitive skin.

  I shiver.

  I’ve never had a one-night stand before, but with him, I want to. I want to throw caution to the wind and let this gorgeous man claim me for the night. I want him.

  “Dance with me,” he rumbles.

  I nod, knowing that he probably wouldn’t be able to hear my response anyway. Henrik takes my hand in his and guides me down to the dancefloor.

  I notice that the security guard that was positioned at our table has followed us as well. I want to ask Henrik why, but then his hands wrap around my ass and his hips start to move, which causes me to forget all stream of consciousness.

  When the third song is over, Henrik lifts his chin and wraps his fingers around mine, tugging me behind him and toward the roped off area where we began the evening.

  A waitress appears and he orders us rounds of shots and drinks. He sits down on one of the loveseats and pulls me down onto his lap, I fall with a giggle and bounce. His fingers wrap around the back of my neck and my thigh as the waitress appears with a tray full of drinks.

  “This can’t all be for us?” I ask with wide eyes.

  “Fuck yeah, luv,” he chuckles as his hand releases my thigh and reaches down to grab a shot glass.

  He hands me a full glass before he takes one for himself. With a clink against my glass, he winks before he shoots the whole thing. I look at the clear liquid and throw it back myself.

  I’m going to enjoy tonight and this sexy stranger’s touch. We shoot two more glasses of liquor before we each take the cocktails he’s also ordered and begin to drink those.

  The conversation flows easily between us; we don’t talk about anything of importance. We talk about music and movies as we continue to drink. Then we break from the liquor and dance in our roped off area, never making it down to the dancefloor before we shoot some more liquor.

  Henrik’s fingers skim my skin at the hem of my dress, again; but this time, they’re traveling further, daring to intimately touch me. As badly as I want him to, he doesn’t. We dance until two in the morning, before Henrik suggests we see more of the city.

  It’s two-thirty when we’re stumbling from Jewel’s doors and making our way toward the hotel’s exit. We’re drunk off of liquor and high on our own sexual tension. We make our way down the busy street, bustling with partygoers and couples just like us. My feet don’t even hurt. I’m numb from the liquor, and too focused on his hand resting on my hip.

  “What’s your dream, Henrik? If you could be or do anything in the world, what would it be?” I ask as we aimlessly walk, going forward but nowhere all at the same time.

  “I would be anonymous,” he says, sounding even more mysterious than he already is.

  “Why would you want to be anonymous? I think it would be impossible.”

  “Why’s that?” he asks, lifting a brow.

  “Because you’re the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on. You’ll always be noticed for that and that alone,” I explain.

  Henrik stops in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the people who have to stumble around us to avoid running us over, since we were walking with the flow of foot traffic. He pulls me a little closer into his chest, one hand on my lower back, the other tangled in my mess of hair at the back of my head.

  “I’ve never had so much fun, Riona,” he slurs with a lopsided grin tipping his lips. “What’s your dream, precious?”

  “To be loved for me,” I whisper, biting on my bottom lip with a cringe.

  “Who couldn’t love you, Riona?” he asks, using his nickname for me, something he just started calling me after he had a few cocktails.

  “How could anybody love me when my own parents couldn’t?” I ask, dampening our fun evening.

  Henrik shakes his head and moves to wrap his hand around mine as he tugs me down the boulevard. It’s warm outside, and loud from the traffic and the people moving all around us.

  “Them being right bastards doesn’t reflect a damn thing on you, precious. That’s all on them,” he murmurs as he bends his head slightly.

  A loud laugh causes both of us to turn our heads and look at who’s walking our way.

  A couple comes toward us from the opposite direction. She’s wearing a short veil on her head, and the man is wearing a top hat. They’re just in jeans and t-shirts, but they’re wrapped in each other’s arms and they look blissfully happy and obviously just married—and drunk, very, very drunk.

  Henrik looks from the couple to me and I watch as a wicked smile crosses his face. I know exactly what he’s thinking, because my drunk brain is stupidly thinking the exact same thing.

  It’s stupid, it’s immature, it’s reckless.

  It’s going to be a blast.

  “Marry me, Caitriona,” he whispers.

  How could this woman in front of me never have known love? Her friend loves her, but that isn’t the same as a parent’s love or one from a lover. The depths of hurt in her eyes when she said that her parents didn’t love her, that she just wanted to be loved for her—it spoke to me.

  She speaks to me.

  It’s dangerous, the question I’ve just asked her. Not only for me, but for her as well. I’m supposed to marry that Ice Bitch. Maybe I’m sabotaging it all on purpose, maybe I just want to have a little fun before I’m tied down, or maybe I want to show this woman in front of me that she’s worthy of more in life.

  I’m so pissed that I don’t even make sense inside of my own head. But I don’t care.

  I’m marrying this girl. Right here and right now.

  Then, I’m going to fuck her over and over again. I’m
going to watch her cry out, as she comes undone around me.

  I can’t fucking wait.

  “WHAT DO YOU SAY, PRECIOUS? Want to make an honest man of me?” he asks, holding out his hand to hail a cab.

  “We haven’t done anything but kiss, Henrik. You are honest,” I counter back with a small smile.

  “In a few hours, I’ll be filthy dirty, and so will you—at least this way it’ll be legit,” he shrugs before he places a sweet kiss on my lips as the cab pulls up next to us.

  Together, we climb in as he asks us where we’re going. This is foolish, so foolish, but looking into his eyes, I want to be reckless with him. It feels good, and it feels safe. Like I know that even when tomorrow comes, even when we get this annulled, that I’ll still feel good, that he’ll make this all easy and fun and just—nice.

  “The nearest wedding chapel that’s open,” Henrik announces, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “You’re gonna regret this in the mornin’,” the cabby mutters as he pulls into traffic.

  “Never,” Henrik and I murmur simultaneously.

  The cabbie drops us off at Little White Chapel. I feel like I’m in a movie; like I’m not inside of my own body, but instead watching all of this from afar.

  Why I’m doing what I’m doing, I have not a single clue. But with Henrik’s arm wrapped around me and the big smile on his soft lips, I’ll do whatever he wants.

  I’m that gone for him.

  I’m that drunk off of him.

  The chapel is busy, so much busier than I had anticipated. There are couples like us in party attire, waiting for their turn. But there are also couples dressed up in actual wedding gowns and tuxedos.

  We stumble past all of the other drunken couples to write our names on the list and fill out our paperwork so that we can join the rest of the people here and say I Do.

  “We’re really doing this,” he announces as we sit down in the back and wait for our names to be called.

  “We are,” I nod with a big goofy grin.

  “I can’t wait to fuck my wife,” he murmurs as he bends down and presses his lips just below my ear.

  I turn to face him, and it’s as if we’re pulled into each other—like we can’t be stopped, and it can’t be helped. Our lips touch as though we’ve just ignited a fire between them.

  When Henrik’s tongue slips between my parted lips, I whimper. That somehow breaks the control he’s been holding onto, and he goes wild. He nips and tugs on my lips, his tongue invading my mouth as he consumes me.

  Then, when he needs to catch his breath, his mouth travels down my neck and begins to explore, lick, kiss, and nip the tops of my breasts.

  “I can’t wait to have these in my mouth,” he groans against my chest as his fingertips dance along my shoulder.

  I can’t wait for his mouth to be on every inch of my body. To hear his whispered words in that sexy accent in a quiet room.

  I’m ready, right now.

  We both jump when we hear our names and stand before hurrying to our spots at the front of the chapel, both in fits of laughter. There are no flowers, I don’t have a bouquet, there’s no wedding march, and, honestly, I could care less.

  This is Vegas, and I’m marrying the sexiest man I have ever seen in my life, even if it’s only for the night.

  All I can think about and all that I want is Henrik’s body pressing against mine. I want him inside of me as soon as physically possible.

  There aren’t rings, but Henrik whispers that he’ll buy me whatever I want in the morning when the jewelers open. It’s just the two of us in this little chapel, along with the officiant. There’s nobody else, and nothing has ever felt so right in my entire life.

  We do decide to say our own vows. I don’t know why, but it seems important that we do.

  “I, Caitriona Geneva Grace, take you, Henrik…” I pause, realizing that I don’t even know his full name.

  “Henrik George William Richard Stuart,” he interjects.

  I gape at him, too drunk to remember all of the names he’s just spouted off. I decide immediately to use his first and last name. I cannot repeat the rest in the correct order, so I’m not even going to try.

  “I take you, Henrik Stuart, to be my lawfully wedded husband. I promise to be loyal and faithful. I will be barefoot and pregnant as often as you request. I will cook for you and clean for you. I will never deny you. I will take my wifely duties completely and totally seriously, and I vow that I will give you blowjobs for more than just your birthdays.

  “I promise to take care of you, and to care for you in sickness and in health, to always stand at your side and give you support.”

  Henrik clears his throat and, in his beautiful British accent, he makes his own vows to me.

  “I, Henrik George William Richard Stuart, take you, Caitriona Geneva, to be my lawfully wedded wife. I vow to be faithful to only you. I will take care of you from this day forward. You will want for nothing and I will give you everything.

  “I promise to shag you as often as you’ll let me without reservation. I vow to give you at least four sons and one daughter, because every duchess deserves her own princess to dote upon. I also vow to keep you safe and away from all dangers, physical or otherwise. I will honor and protect you, all the days of my life.”

  Immediately, tears stream down my cheeks at his beautiful words. Not one ounce of funny, except for the shagging part, and completely and totally beautiful from start to finish.

  I wish this were real. I wish that this were the man I was meant to spend the rest of my life with. Falling for him would be exceptionally easy to do, especially with the words he’s just said.

  The minister, I use that term loosely because he’s wearing an Elvis one-piece bedazzled suit, announces us man and wife, and even includes a hip swivel.

  Henrik pulls me into his body and kisses me, indecently deep, his tongue filling my mouth and his hand grabbing a handful of my ass, taking me and tasting me. I moan as I wrap my arms around his neck and open my mouth even wider for him.

  The minister clears his throat and we quickly break apart.

  My face flushes red and Henrik chuckles before he thanks him and wraps his hand around mine, pulling me toward the exit. There’s a cab waiting for us outside, and I tell him to take us to the Aria.

  “We can go to my suite,” he murmurs against my ear as he nibbles on my lobe.

  “No, Madison would worry if I don’t make it back to my room,” I breathe, trying my hardest not to throw my leg over his and grind against him.

  I’ve wanted him all night long, and it’s almost time. My palms start to sweat with nervous anticipation, but he doesn’t notice. He’s too busy nibbling, kissing, and running his hands all over my body. When the cab stops, I watch as Henrik takes out some money and tosses it up at the driver in the front seat before he’s out of the car and pulling me behind him.

  “We’ve got to hurry,” he mutters, practically running through the hotel’s lobby.

  “Henny, I’m going to fall,” I warn with a giggle.

  Less than a second later, I’m scooped into his arms, and he’s swiftly walking toward the elevator. I squeak and try to put my hand under my ass so that the entire hotel doesn’t see my bared center.

  “I’m not going to show anybody your goodies. Well, my goodies—now,” he chuckles as he continues with his hurried pace toward the elevator.

  Once we’re in the elevator car, I expect him to put me down, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t release me from his hold until we’re in my bedroom and he’s locked the door behind us.

  “Why’d you carry me the whole way?” I ask as he deposits me on the bed.

  “Two thresholds to carry my new bride over. How could I not take advantage? I like it when you call me Henny, by the way,” he murmurs as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

  I lose all thought as he exposes his chest to me. He’s even sexier with his shirt unbuttoned, standing in front of me, than he was at the pool. Maybe because he
’s technically mine now. My husband. It’s silly to think of him as that really, when in reality, we’ll have this silliness annulled tomorrow, but for now, he’s mine—nobody else’s but mine.

  “I want to see my wife,” he murmurs, his voice dipping lower than before.

  The mischief in his eyes is gone, replaced with a much more serious look of desire and heat.

  I try to gracefully peel Madison’s tight dress from my body, but I’m afraid it isn’t very graceful at all. It feels much more like I’m fighting with it as I shimmy the tight fabric down my hips, and finally, my thighs and legs, leaving it in a pile at my feet.

  “Fuck, you didn’t wear knickers at all tonight?” Henrik asks, his voice ratcheting up a bit higher with surprise.

  I shake my head as I bite my bottom lip, trying not to laugh at the word knickers. It’s adorable slipping from his lips in a still drunken slur. I suck in a breath as he reaches out and, with just the pads of his fingers, traces down my collar bone to the swells of my breasts before he swirls around my nipples. He’s doing this too slowly, too lightly, and too far away from where I want him to really touch me.

  “Henny,” I whine.

  “Yeah?” he murmurs.

  I watch as he takes a step back and strips himself of the rest of his clothes. He’s muscular and chiseled, like he works out every single day.

  I lick my lips at the sight of his cock jutting out from between his legs. He’s long and thick, but not overly so, and he’s hard. He’s hard—for me.

  He grunts before he’s in front of me again, and his hands are wrapped around my thighs, picking me up. He tosses me onto the center of the bed, as though I only weigh ten pounds, and not like I’m five-foot-eight and well over ten pounds. He then divests me of Madison’s high heels, dropping them to the floor one by one.

  “My wife,” he murmurs against my lips.

  “My husband,” I say back.

  His lips crash against mine in a rough, brutal, wonderful kiss. I feel his hand between my legs and whimper as he eases two fingers inside of me.

  “You’re wet,” he grunts as he slides in and out of my ready and waiting body, slowly a few times before he thrusts them inside of me with a grunt.