The King's Virgin Bride: A Royal Wedding Novella (Royal Weddings Book 1)

by Natalie Knight

  “Ugh, Chloe. Is dinner ready yet?” I ask again. “My stomach is about to eat itself.”

  “Nope. But it’s getting closer. A couple more minutes, okay?” she assures me. Chloe walks over to the refrigerator and grabs some lettuce and tomatoes and starts chopping away.

  “You know, I can help you,” Chloe says. My curiosity is piqued. “And don’t get mad at me again, okay? I can’t handle you being so on-edge.”

  “Well, go on,” I say. “What should I do? How can you help?” As I await her response I grab a tomato slice and start biting into it.

  “Hey! Those are for the tacos! Have some patience, won’t you?” she says, playfully. She winks at me.

  “I’m just starving because someone takes an hour to cook chicken,” I respond, trying to be catty back at her.

  “Well anyway, let me get to know them better,” she continues her proposal, wiggling her eyebrows. “That way I can tell you who’s best for who.” She shimmies her shoulders and sticks her tongue out at me, smiling.

  “Jesus, Chloe,” I say, rolling my eyes. I shake my head and sigh at her, grinning. “Can you please get the rest of this together so we can eat? We have a long day at BioKin tomorrow. I want to go to bed soon.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Chloe mutters.

  Sofie

  Walking into work is still one of the most exciting things I can do in a day.

  Walking into these halls, I feel like I'm in a movie. Everything seems so sterile, and important and monumental.

  The work I do here is going to echo throughout the future of humanity.

  Yes, it is just an internship. The type of thing that is usually a precursor to your real career. But with these in posing and — I'll just say it — all inspiring surroundings, it is impossible to forget the importance of this research that I am just starting to embark on.

  Dressed no more fancy than if I were going to hit Whole Foods or pick up a couple of bottles of cheap wine, I still don't feel especially self-conscious wearing my jeans and a white blouse even here at the epicenter of innovation.

  There are few white lab coats sent intimidatingly fancy suits wandering around the corridors of BioKin. Put in a facility full of researchers, it's not too surprising that it's casual and even sometimes sloppy dress that is known to rear its head.

  My work here is fairly independent and my days are becoming routine, even though I still feel like I'm in some huge Hollywood production where the smartest and most illustrious scientists in the world are gathering to figure out how to solve the problem that will save the universe.

  Not to get too ahead of myself, but I still feel like what we're doing here is pretty important.

  All of that aside, my days here are becoming routine.

  I make my way to my cubicle, and my computer terminal. It all begins with a simple push of that on the button, and my machine starts initializing, readying its set of complex programs that will present me with challenge after challenge until another day is finally done and I can send a complete set of data upstairs.

  Upstairs.

  Maybe I can go there one day.

  The fact it’s so close by, my dreams under the same roof, stimulates me in more ways than one.

  It makes me feel so stimulated, so enlivened, that my body temperature is now climbing steadily, as is my pulse.

  With a long career stretching out in front of me, simply having a job that I enjoy seems like a heady enough ambition, but never in my wildest fantasies...well, dreams, did I think I’d find a workplace that makes me feel so physically, well, enlivened.

  This is just an internship, no less, and I’m getting more excited about it than now. A lot more excited.

  Which seems kind of weird when it hits me that I’m still sitting by myself in front of a computer monitor, a keyboard and mouse waiting for me to start plugging away in much the same way that I’ve been doing, often mechanically, on autopilot, for months now.

  I take a deep breath, consciously filling my lungs to capacity. I hold in the air with my eyes closed, trying to take myself away from the rote tasks looming over the next few hours, not thinking about anything, trying to calmly clear my mind so I can just calm the fuck down for a second and get into work mode.

  I have so much enthusiasm today, and that must be a good sign of things to come at BioKin, but it’s not translating to motivation easily.

  I exhale slowly, evenly. There. much better, I think.

  I look at the plain spreadsheets and graphs laid out across several different windows on my work terminal. They don’t look any more inviting, even after my breathing exercise, even with my unbridled passion still going strong.

  My passion for my work, the sort of passion that still has my heart racing – not racing in a scared or anxious way that feels uncontrollable, but in a positive, healthy-feeling way, like after a good run, or a good...

  Fuck, it’s not work that has me so worked up right now, is it?

  Here I am, assigning myself such noble impulses, but I’m afraid it isn’t the long, slow push of methodical research that’s making me feel so hot.

  That’s the word for it, not enlivened or anything like that. I’m feeling fucking hot.

  My poor workstation. I don’t know how much action it’s going to be getting today.

  I’ve got other kinds of action on my mind.

  How does Elijah Kennedy exist in reality? He’s such an unreal creature, a work of masculine art too fantastical to believe.

  But I believe what I can see with my own eyes.

  I close my eyes again to replay delicious reality. Just a moment of indulgence, then I can get to work.

  A gorgeous limousine, somehow both glamorous and tasteful, unlike anything you’d see in the movies, and a private jet fitting that same profile – Elijah knows which trappings of success to choose, and how to choose them with the utmost taste, and how to use them.

  Elijah knows how to use a lot of things with indescribable skill. His fingers, which he utilizes with a delicate power that, fuck, I need to stop.

  I open my eyes, my work is still there, in the same position, mocking me. But Jesus, that stunning footlong cock.

  I push my chair back, look over my shoulder to see if anybody’s lingering in the vicinity. It’s not like anybody can read my thoughts, but it’s not like I planned to go off on this flight of fancy in public.

  His brain, though. Elijah powered his way to where he is largely on intellectual prowess. His brain is sharp, vigorous, secure in its own might, and he appreciates me with all of it.

  I try to let go of my Elijah mist flooding my mind, only to find Lucas poking his way in with his dedication to me, and his determination to stay humble and human in spite of his extraordinary life so far.

  But Lucas is still there, and so is Oliver. That fiery red hair and breath-taking cock, without warning my thoughts become hungry in a way that’s new to me – there’s not just one set of daydreams, or even two; there’s a trio of wonderful paths paved with memory and fantasy that I wouldn’t mind taking just about now...

  “Morning, Sofie.”

  I nearly jump out of my fucking seat. I don’t know what I look like to my supervisor, she couldn’t have been standing there for too long, but I’m openly spacing out. She’s usually very kind and understanding—let’s see how things shake out this time.

  I swing my seat around, maybe a little too fast, to face her.

  “Phew, Charlene, you scared me. Didn’t mean to jump like that, sorry.”

  Charlene gives me a small, genuine smile. She’s not much older than I am but seems content with where she is in the organization.

  “What? You were deep in focus, no need for apologies.”

  Deep in focus, that’s a good one. If she really believes that, great. If she’s joshing me a bit, that’s fair enough I guess.

  “Yeah, that’s me, Charlene. You know how it is sometimes.”

  Charlene’s face holds its expression.


  “I may not be seeing too much more of you, Sofie, so may I offer you some advice while I have the chance?”

  Oh, fuck.

  “What does that mean? Why won’t you be seeing me?”

  My heart’s starting to race again, but not in exhilaration. What did I do that was so fucking bad, anyway?

  “Don’t be modest. That’s my advice. Not everybody’s as dedicated at every moment the way you are, so don’t pretend it’s some common experience.”

  I can’t keep panicking, but this seems fucked. I let myself zone out for a few minutes and Charlene’s hitting me with this over-the-top sarcasm as a lead up to God only knows.

  “I’m just an intern,” I complain, letting a fearful and angry thought slip out.

  “Not for long.” How can Charlene sound so delighted while she threatens me? “You’re moving upstairs.”

  “Wait, what?”

  Charlene’s smile broadens, and for the first time since getting to work, I feel a wave of relief wash over me.

  “This is one of my favorite parts of the job,” she says. “I wish it happened more often, with more people here, but you know you’ve been killing it, and the rewards are starting for you already.”

  Upstairs.

  That word’s at the route of it all; the desire to just sit around all day and consider the triad of good fortune in my life.

  I hold back most of a huge grin, but there’s no stopping my eyes from going wide with wild glee. As if my own thoughts weren’t enough, I feel like I’ve won the lottery of going upstairs.

  Lucas.

  Oliver.

  And fucking Elijah, for crying out loud.

  It’s almost too much, but I’m going upstairs and getting an unexpected chance to see my mind-blowing triumvirate in the flesh and spend time with all of them.

  “Don’t let it get to your head too much.” Charlene is amused by my expression and chiding me jokingly.

  “I know you weren’t expecting this today, but I hope you’re ready.”

  Elijah

  I keep glancing at my Galileo clock and weather station, willing the fucking time to go faster.

  Of course, time moves at its own steady beat, and it does not change its pace for anyone, even someone as successful as me.

  I sigh and unscrew my Mont Blanc fountain before putting the top back on.

  I glance at the weather station.

  There’s a prediction of low humidity and temperature, although I’m feeling pretty fucking hot already. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Sofie’s cast some kind of spell over me. The thought of her leaves me unable to think clearly and focus on anything remotely business related.

  For the last hour, I’ve been staring at the same sentence on my oversized screen and can’t work out what’s wrong with it. Normally I’m the master wordsmith and can fix anything so fucking fast no one else keeps up with me. Words are my tool, and I know how to wield them to their maximum effect.

  However, since I’ve met Sofie, things have changed.

  And today, of all days, is the worst.

  I’m as excited as a five-year-old boy on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa and his reindeers to arrive and bring presents.

  Of course, Sofie’s not a toy—no fucking way. She’s so much more. She’s the complete package, but that doesn’t mean I’m not excited.

  Today‘s the day Sofie’s moving up in the company and into my world. I like the sound of those words—my world.

  I roll them around my mouth a bit and grin wider than a Cheshire cat. If only she was here already.

  With a sigh, I put down my gold nib fountain pen and grab my phone. I’ve got a picture of her on it and if I can’t see her in the flesh, I’ll feast on her another way ‘til she gets here.

  As soon as she fills my screen, my dick’s throbbing in my pants, and I feel an overwhelming need to fuck her.

  My fingers move to my Armani pants and free my dick.

  With my eyes on Sofie on the screen wearing nothing but a lacy bra and slip, I let my fingers do their work.

  It would be so much better if those piano fingers of Sofie’s would be playing on my throbbing dick now, but I can’t wait. And of course, I can’t just expect my intern to fuck me whenever she’s in my office. Or can I?

  A soft cough interrupts my movements and briefly, I look up, a rebuke already on the tip of my tongue. No one dares to enter the den of the lion without knocking. Whoever this bumbling fucking idiot is, he or she would pay for their mistake.

  “Ahm, sorry.” My fucking little goddess hovers in the entrance of the heavy mahogany door and moves from one foot to the other. Her flawless porcelain skin has gone a shade of red, and she looks as delicious as the apple offered to Eve by the snake.

  “I knocked.”

  She looks so fucking innocent and sweet and good enough to eat, as she’s searching for the right words.

  “More than once,” she adds.

  Her right hand goes up with one finger in the air.

  Fuck, I want to just wrap my lips around that one finger, particularly if it were covered in her honey juices.

  She drops her gaze as if reading my mind.

  My hands are still wrapped around my fucking massive pulsing cock. It’s ready to come. It just needs a little more help.

  “Perfect timing, Sofie. As usual, you have perfect timing.”

  She closes the door and takes a hesitant step toward me.

  Her long legs are barely covered with a tight black skirt. A tight white blouse stretches a little over her tits, and I can see blood-red lace from her bra poke through at the top. I wonder if she’s wearing a matching red thong or if she’s not wearing any panties at all — all the better if she isn’t.

  “So shy today?” I raise my eyebrows. There’s no fucking way Sofie is shy.

  She’d been anything but shy at the auction. She’d been anything but shy on the plane trip to Vegas.

  Fuck, every time I think about her naked in my private jet, I can just about jerk off by myself. The way her ass wiggled from side to side inviting me to take her, with the skyline of Vegas in my vision.

  “Uhm,” she starts and takes another step toward me. “I was told to come and see you personally to get my orders for the day.”

  She emphasizes the you and orders.

  Her voice is so fucking melodic my cock’s just about ready to explode.

  “Do you have any orders for me?”

  My cock’s loving those words. I can hear Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony played by a full orchestra and visualize fireworks accompanying the music. Whoever gave those instructions deserves a fucking pay raise.

  Delicious Sofie is standing in my office asking for orders. Christmas is really coming early for me this year.

  Beautiful, witty, charming Sofie is licking her lips. Her hands are on her hips and she tilts her head a little to the right, the way she always does.

  There’s lust in her eyes.

  She hasn’t even touched me yet, and I can already feel the sweetness of those delicious lips on the tip of my cock.

  Fuck, I want her.

  Now.

  How I’m ever going to get any work done is beyond me if Sofie’s going to be working in my department. But heck, who gives a fuck right now. I’ve got a more immediate problem—I’ve got a throbbing cock, which needs attention.

  “Well then,” I say as I lean back in my black leather office chair, which automatically tilts back a little with the shift in weight.

  “Let me give you your first order.”

  I’ve managed to get my authoritative voice back—the one people stand to attention to when I use it on them.

  I’m sure she can now see what I’ve been doing, and her eyes grow a little wider, like those of a child faced with the most humongous chocolate bar.

  I watch her clap her hands together.

  She almost skips over to my desk and then eases herself around it so she’s now standing directly in front of me.


  I let go of my shaft and grab the phone.

  “No interruptions until you hear from me. And I mean no interruptions,” I bark into the phone to my personal assistant. She knows me well enough to make sure we’re not disturbed.

  It was one thing to be interrupted by Sofie, another altogether if someone else walks in on me while Sofie’s giving me a blowjob.

  Slowly, the girl of my dreams drops to the floor.

  When she’s on her knees, those deer eyes of hers look back at me. Fuck, she’s so fucking gorgeous.

  “Looks like you have a bit of a problem, Eli,” she says softly, and I can feel her warm breath on my exposed cock.

  Shivers run down my spine. I’m so fucking horny.

  She knows how to play me.

  I want to just grab her face and shove it onto my waiting dick, but I exercise restraint. After all, I’m a master of restraint. When you’re as successful in business as I am, you know when to wait and when to pounce.

  “What’re you going to do about it?” My voice is a little husky now.

  Sofie tilts her head a little further to the right, and I see her tongue dart in an out as if she’s trying to taste the drops of precum glistening on the tip of my dick from a distance.

  “I wonder how I should proceed.”

  “Just fucking take it,” I command through gritted teeth.

  Sofie smiles.

  “I don’t know. I was always taught that to solve a problem, you should, first of all, examine it carefully.”

  Her long slender fingers now touch my cock lightly. It’s as if tiny little butterflies have landed on it and are walking up and down on my shaft. I quiver all over.

  Her eyes come a little closer.

  “And you should inspect it closely before you work out what to do about it.”

  “Fucking stop playing me,” I say. I’m breathing harder and faster than I do when I go for my morning run.

  My brain’s taking leave of absence and delegating all the thinking to my dick. Fuck, she’s a fucking vixen. Playing me like a musical instrument.

  And then without warning, her soft, luscious lips are sucking on the tip of my cock. At first, she only licks and sucks the tip of it, like she’s sucking on a candy, and I can feel explosions go off just behind my belly button.