The King's Secret Bride: A Royal Wedding Novella (Royal Weddings Book 3)

by Alexis Angel

She’s in the shower, completely naked; her head is held high, her eyes closed as she runs her hands through her hair. I remain still and in silence, just taking in the sight of her. I’ve fucked a legion of women, but not one of them compares to Daphne. I don’t know what it is about her that draws me in like this - maybe the gentle curves of her thighs, the smoothness of her skin or the way her smile comes so easily... I don’t fucking know and, in all honesty, I don’t really give a fuck. All that matters is that she’s right here, with me.

  I step forwards, my eyes never leaving her body; as I do it, she turns to me, a look of surprise dawning on her face.

  “Derrick… What are you doing here?” She says, brushing a lock of wet hair from her forehead.

  “I wanted to see you,” I simply find myself saying. And it’s the truth. I was fucking pissed, I was angry… And my mind immediately pointed me to the only thing capable of making me forget all of those worries easily - Daphne.

  “Now?”

  “Now,” I smile. With that, I take my hands to the glass panel and slide it to the side. I step inside the shower stall, not giving a fuck as the warm water soaks my shirt and pants, making the fabric stick to my skin. I need to feel her body on mine and I’m not going to waste a single fucking second removing my clothes - I can do that later.

  Before she can open her mouth to protest against me being there, I grab her by the waist and pull her into me, pressing my lips against hers. We kiss gently, the warm water running down both our bodies; in an instant, her hands are on my shirt, her hurried fingers quickly unbuttoning it. Not wanting to waste any more time, she stops unbuttoning the shirt and simply pulls on it with both hands, making the remaining buttons pop out. She pushes the wet fabric down my arms, her hands feverishly running over my chiseled muscles.

  I run my hands up her side and grab the hair behind her neck, forcing her head back as I lean in and kiss the smooth skin of her neck, nibbling at it with an almost uncontrollable hunger. Just having her body pressed against mine is all I could ask for… Fortunately, she wants more than that - as I kiss her neck, I feel the tip of her fingers go down and over my abs. She grabs my hard cock over my pants, curling her fingers around it with a strength that betrays all the desire that fills her mind.

  Letting go of my cock, she unbuttons my pants and pushes them down my legs along with my soaked boxer briefs. I step out of them, kicking them to the side, and press my body against hers as she grabs my cock in a hurry. I can’t help but close my eyes as she starts to stroke it wildly.

  I cup her ass then, feeling it’s perfect curve against the open palm of my hand; her breasts are pressed against my chest, her hard nipples rubbing on my pectorals as if she’s begging for more. I’m happy to oblige to the demands of her body - I push her back just enough for me to grab her right breast. Leaning in, I part my lips and fit her small rosy nipple between them, sucking eagerly as she purrs in delight.

  “I can’t get enough of you,” I say, letting go of her ass and allowing my fingers to go around her waist. With only my fingertips, I gently touch the soft mound between her thighs. I can’t help but grin as her whole body trembles the moment I press my index finger just above her clit.

  “Take me…” She moans against my ear, her voice coming at me with a begging tone. What can I do but give her what she wants? I run one finger along her pussy, parting her inner lips - but instead of sliding my finger in, I just pin Daphne against the wall and, grabbing her right below her buttock, I make her raise her leg. I press my body against hers, the tip of my cock rubbing against her inner folds. She starts to struggle against my hold, swaying her hips wildly and moaning, but I keep my patience - I simply rub my cock on her pussy, driving her to the edge of madness.

  She throws her head back, pressing it against the tiles on the wall, and that’s the moment I choose to thrust - one movement of my hips and my cock slides deep inside of her, a high pitched scream of pleasure leaving Daphne’s mouth.

  Still grabbing one of her legs, I grab the other one and lift it up; she immediately locks them behind my back, her arms thrown over my shoulders as she forces me to lean in and kisses me in abandonment. I kiss her back, closing my eyes as I keep on thrusting. I have to grit my teeth, waves of pleasure hitting me all at once, her body like a maddening drug designed for the perfect high. Because that’s exactly how I feel - I feel fucking high and, by God, only Daphne can make me feel like this.

  I match the sway of her hips, our movements guided by the same invisible rhythm of lust. I feel nothing but the warmness of her body - I don’t feel or hear the running water, I don’t see the cloud of steam that fills the room. I’m fucking deaf and blind to the world, all brain power directed to what really matters - her.

  I keep going until both our bodies hum the same fucking song - one of lust, passion and pleasure. Locked in our tight embrace, our bodies tense as a wave of pleasure comes for us both. She rests her forehead against my chest, her pussy tightening around my spasming cock as I cum in a torrent.

  I exhale sharply as her whole body convulses, her muscles rippling as wild sparks of pleasure jump from her body into mine. I remain still, savoring the moment. My cock gives its final spasms, semen dripping down her thighs as her ragged breathing becomes calmer.

  In this exact moment, I’m not a fucking prince. I’m not Prince fucking Sin or whatever I’m called. In her arms I’m just Derrick, and all those fucking problems that plague me fade away as if they’re nothing.

  Fuck, I couldn’t be more glad that I found her.

  I turn off the shower, and towel her off. I look into her eyes and can’t believe I’m about to say. “I love you, Daphne,” I say.

  Fuck me. Who ever thought this day would come?

  She looks me in the eyes as I look at her. Fuck, if anything happened to her, I don’t know what I’d do. I wouldn’t be able to go on.

  She looks at me for a long moment. A very long moment. “I need you to come with me, Derrick.”

  She wraps the towel around her and ties it in the front, and walks out of the bathroom. I stare at her ass and her shapely fucking legs as she walks off.

  I gotta say one thing. This is not the response I expected to me declaring that I loved her.

  * * *

  I follow Daphne into her room and she sits down on the bed.

  I throw my towel over my shoulder. Daphne looks at me and scrunches her nose.

  “You’re not feeling the towel?” she asks me with a smirk. This girl is starting to get some sass in her.

  Just looking at Daphne sitting on her bed is getting my cock hard. I grin at her, and walk over to the bed. But as I get close, she pulls out her laptop and turns it my direction.

  “If you’ve fallen in love with me Derrick,” she says and I stop short. “If you’ve really fallen in love with me, then…I can’t keep this to myself any longer.”

  What the fuck is this? I actually put my towel down and sit down on the bed.

  “You need to know the truth,” Daphne says and hands me her tablet as well.

  I look through it. The headline is from the St. Livy Register - the newspaper of record in my kingdom. It simply reads, “Queen Dies From Drug Overdose in New York.”

  I look up at Daphne. “What the fuck is this?” I ask, my heart starting to beat.

  She looks at me firmly. “The truth,” she says. “Read.”

  And read I fucking do.

  It rocks my fucking world.

  My mother never had cancer. She had several, and I’m talking about upwards of ten times she checked into rehab for drugs. For alcohol.

  Article after article. Government records. Foreign newspapers and gossip columns. All painting a picture far more different than I ever knew.

  My parents being married in an arranged marriage. My mother getting caught cheating on my father, the King at least five times. Her struggles with alcoholism. Her passing out drunk and high at state functions. Embezzlement of monies from the Royal Treasury. Being picked up in A
msterdam in the Red Light District - high on methamphetamines.

  Finally, internal documents that were declassified by the St. Livy Royal Office showing my father taking my mother for treatment all around the world. Taking her to St. Penares for therapy. To Australia to get away from the press. And finally to bring her to New York City for intensive therapy - after a particularly heinous episode where she was caught fucking two guys in the Royal Palace with cocaine in her system and a Blood Alcohol Level around 0.15.

  Apparently New York City was the last straw. A sum of $2.5 million dollars was found to have been embezzled by my mother and the Parliament of St. Livy had demanded that the King do something about his wayward wife or abdicate the throne until the matter was resolved.

  Rather than throw his country into chaos, he brought her to treatment here.

  But it didn't work.

  I read a News of the Times article that talks about how the Queen of St. Livy was checked into rehab and left one night. She went partying, and died of alcohol poisoning and a drug overdose.

  The heroin was too pure apparently.

  Pictures of my father at the funeral. Despite everything that she’d done to him - all the times he could have divorced her - he stayed by her side until she took her life. I look at shots of my father, his head bowed and sad, holding me.

  “Where did you get all this?” I ask Daphne, awed that she could put this all together. “How did you get all this?”

  “I’ve been digging Derrick,” she says. “You talk about your father so much, but he doesn’t deserve your hate. He deserves…”

  I don’t let her finish. “Sympathy,” I say out loud.

  Oh my fucking God. What the fuck have I done? All my father wanted was to preserve for me the sweet and innocent image of my mother that I had. He let me continue thinking that. He let me stay angry at him. He let me turn into the prodigal son, the embarrassment to the throne. Everything I ever did to hurt him, he took without question because he wanted me to have a mother.

  And I twisted it, to where he no longer had a son.

  Daphne coms over and wraps her arms around me.

  Fuck, I’ve never cried in my life. But if there were any time that I would, now would be it.

  I look over at my angel.

  She looks at me as she speaks. “I love you, Derrick Blaine,” she says to me, a single tear falling from her eye.

  I smile, wiping it away with my fingers. “I love you, Daphne Apple,” I say back to her. “God, I fucking love you so much.”

  We kiss. It seems like forever and I don’t want it to end. I want that fucking moment to stay for all fucking time.

  But eventually she pulls away and looks at me with a wan smile. “I think it’s time you made a phone call,” she says.

  I nod to her. For once, sex can wait.

  I walk to the living room, and pick up my phone and dial.

  The personal number to his office rings and I reach his manservant.

  “This is Prince Derrick,” I say into the phone. “I’d like to talk to my father, if I could.”

  Dad comes on the line in a second.

  “Son,” his voice is filled with concern. “Is everything all right?”

  I choke back a sob. I don’t fucking cry, I’m not going to cry now. Instead, I speak into the phone, “Dad,” I say, cursing myself for everything else I’ve ever called him. “I’m so sorry. So sorry for everything…”

  But it’s too hard to continue.

  I look over at my angel as she comes out of her room and into the living room and smiles at me.

  And that’s when I know everything is going to be alright.

  Alicia

  Sixty seven.

  That’s how many days since Derrick and I first had sex. You want to know something? The sex is just out of this world. It’s crazy. It’s insane. I love it. I can't live without it.

  Sometimes I wonder on how much I missed out by hating him all this time.

  I’ve lived in his condo this whole entire time. I haven’t moved back to my place. Derrick’ security guy, Sam, sent a team over and they took care of cleaning up the place and Derrick has a maid that makes sure everything's in order. I can go back whenever I want, and I tell myself that some nights I’ll go sleep there – keep a sense of independence, you know?

  And then he’ll take off his shirt and start kissing my neck. Once he kisses my neck, that’s it. It’s over. We’re fucking. Before I know it, a few hours have passed and I’m panting for breath, having had the craziest orgasms of my life.

  I mean, I’ve had orgasms before. But these are intense. I don’t have any words for them. Derrick is so large. So thick, and massive. His cock just hits me right where it needs to and he’s merciless. I swear, it’s like his body was built for sex. Like he’s a giant sex toy. It’s a wonder that I don’t just give up everything and stay in bed with him all day – naked and fucking. Don’t think we haven’t done it. On weekends where it rains, we’ve done just that. It’s so delicious.

  Three hundred and five.

  That’s how many times I’ve had some sort of sexual relations with Derrick. Whether he’s eating me out and making me cum, or I’m going down on him, or I’m jerking him off, or even if we’re just having sex – we seem to be doing it like a pair of horny teenagers. And that’s exactly what I feel like.

  Have you ever met someone who has made you feel like you were forever young? That’s Derrick. He’s got such a lust for life that it automatically energizes my day. And we have sex. Often. It never becomes old because we evolve with each other. Whether it’s me waking him up with a blowjob, or it’s him coming behind me and taking me in the shower, or me making him role play, we have the craziest and most fulfilling sex life ever.

  Ten.

  That’s how many times we’ve done it in public. I’m not including the balcony of his place. Nor am I including like his private jet or anywhere like that. I mean like him taking me in Central Park, or in the bathroom of the Met during a charity gala. I mean like us finding out that we’re the only ones on his yacht in the water and deciding to have sex on the deck of the boat. It’s so crazy! I don’t think I would have ever done anything like that if I were with anyone else.

  Zero.

  That’s how many times I’ve thought about Jake. He tried to cause trouble for Derrick but Larry, Derrick’ lawyer, helped me set up a restraining order and then threatened to press charges for attempted sexual assault, breaking and entering, vandalism, and a host of other charges. Derrick apparently also called a few favors from all the people he’s started to hobnob with and last I heard Jake got fired from his Analyst job at Carter Jeffries. I guess that’s what he was talking about earlier when he said Jake wouldn’t be in the city long. Derrick told me he doubts that he’ll find another investment bank to take him on, and that Jake will probably end up moving out of New York City. I have to be honest – I don’t really care much about Jake at this point. I also don’t really feel that sorry for him. He turned out to be a really bad person to me.

  Two thousand.

  That’s how much I still pay for my apartment. I’ve put it up on Airbnb and I get maybe three or four people a month who take the whole apartment. I usually meet them and give them the keys and explain everything about the apartment. Jenna must have come in shortly after Jake raided my room because she literally took everything of any value to her, except for the mattress. So, most of the time I rent out Jenna’s room, and sometimes I rent out the whole apartment after talking to them online. This has pretty much covered Jenna’s portion of the rent. Of course, yes, I know what you’re going to say. I ask myself every morning why I even bother to pay rent when I’m literally spending every night at One57 with Derrick.

  I don’t know. Well, wait. I actually do know. There’s a giant elephant in the room with all the happiness that’s inside of me, and I don’t know what to do. Oh, you forgot what that elephant was?

  Derrick thinks he’s having sex with Daphne Apple.r />
  He’s falling love with Daphne Apple – the ex-stripper.

  My name is Alicia Bayers and I work for The News of the Times. My job was supposed to be dig up enough dirt on Derrick to make everyone hate him, remember? If he ever finds out, then I think I’m moving out.

  If you get a spare moment from reading this, would you mind going on Google and seeing how hard it is to change your name in the State of New York? Because I’ll go change it to Daphne Apple if that’s what it takes.

  Actually, wait. I’ve done that search already. But it doesn't matter. Even if I did all that, he’s talked to me about Alicia enough times – that I can’t let it ever come out.

  One.

  That’s how many times other Derrick has been in love. We don’t just have sex, you know? Although, the sex is absolutely life-changing. We also do a lot of things that normal couples do. And yes, okay, that smile you’re giving is okay because we really are a couple. Well, as close to a couple as you can be when the girl has a fake name and the guy is a bad boy prince. But one of the things we do a lot outside of sex is talk. He talks to me. He tells me things that he hasn’t told anyone in the past.

  One weekend, we decided to stay in on a Sunday. I remember we got into his hot tub. It took Derrick all of five minutes to get my bikini off of me and it took me all of another minute to pull his board shorts off. But then he looked into my eyes, and got a far off look. “You have the most beautiful fucking eyes, I’ve ever seen,” he whispered. “I want to fuck you till you can’t walk.”

  I giggled. “You’re so romantic, Your Highness,” I teased him.

  He began tweaking my nipples and I gasped.

  When we were done, I wrapped my arms around him and he told me all about his Dad. All the time he wasted being mad at his father and all the questions he has to ask. How long did his father know about his mother’s drug habit? Why didn’t he ever say anything? How much he regrets all the hateful words.

  I hold onto Derrick at that time. He doesn’t expose himself like this to anyone. It’s only for me.

  Fifty

  That’s how many times Derrick and his father have spoken since I showed Derrick the truth. The two spend hours now talking on the phone, catching up and getting to know one another. Derrick has had some pretty intense conversations on the phone with his father, listening to some of the nightmarish things that their mother put them through as she fought with her disease of alcoholism and drug addiction. I don’t know if he’s cried – but if there was ever a time that he would, that would be it. Of course, he wouldn't admit it. He certainly wouldn’t do it in my presence.