Pretend Princess With Benefits: A Royal Fake Marriage Romance

by Lara Swann

  She’s hired - or commandeered - a royal seamstress to create me an appropriate ballgown, so I spend the next couple of hours trying on different dresses to Adele’s discerning eye, while I’m poked and prodded and stuck with pins. Not exactly my idea of a great time, but I’m too appreciative that Adele is working this out for me to mind. I’ve got some very nice dresses, but I’m not sure any of them would work for this event, and I wouldn’t have a clue how to try and find something appropriate.

  Derek hasn’t even asked what I’m wearing or suggested I need to find something, and I know relying on a guy to tell you something like that is a slightly unrealistic hope, but I wonder again just what I’d do without Adele’s support.

  I don’t even get to see in a mirror as Adele discusses with the seamstress, so I can barely tell what any of the dresses look like on me - not that it matters, since they don’t ask my opinion at all. I’m a little skeptical about the whole thing, as they generally seem big and puffy and largely unattractive, but…if that’s what everyone else is wearing, it’s not going to matter at all.

  After that, she takes me through the members of court who’ll be attending, and I try - again - to remember who they all are without her notes. Now that the ball is only a few days away, we’ve stepped this up from the original broad discussions on customs and manners and traditions.

  By the time I leave, I’m a little frayed and exhausted and more than glad for a break. Plus, I’ve got that tingling inside me that always happens when I know I’m on the way to see Derek again, which beats any long discussion about anything, let alone tedious royal customs.

  I smile to myself as I wonder what Carly would think of all this - I’ve told her a little, but there’s really no way to describe these endless discussions, or the medieval feel of the castle and everything I’m doing at the moment. I get the impression that medieval feel is a little exaggerated purely because I’m here. Apparently, presenting a Princesca-attenciano brings a whole range of very old-fashioned traditions with it, and there are times when things are almost…normal, here. At least that’s what Adele and Derek say.

  I walk down the corridors, trying to walk easily and sedately, but the ballroom that we’re meeting in isn’t exactly near Adele’s rooms, and as much as I love the beautiful, old castle…when I want to get somewhere, sometimes I feel a little impatient. I try and go over everything Adele and I talked about today as I walk, both to distract myself, and also to make it more likely I’ll actually remember it all.

  I’m nervous about the Court Ball, but in the same way I get nervous about a test that I feel prepared and ready for - you think it’s going to go well, but you’re not entirely sure what to expect, and there might be questions you aren’t anticipating or some surprise you’re not ready for. So, it’s on my mind a lot - but it’s nothing like the blind panic I felt when I heard about the Court Dinner.

  When I reach the ballroom, I pause outside. I can already hear music drifting from it inside, and I’m not sure whether anyone was going to be using it before us. It seems unlikely - the castle has three ballrooms, and they’re not used often - but I knock anyway.

  Instead of someone calling for me to enter, the door opens a moment later. And Derek, dressed in smart, royal-looking clothes that I haven’t seen before, appears grinning before me. He bows grandly, making an elaborate flourish with his arm, then takes my hand and kisses the back before gesturing me into the room.

  “My lady…”

  I laugh at him, but I follow anyway, enjoying his good humor.

  With the way he greeted me, I almost expect to see the room decorated impressively, with banners streaming or some large display or something, but…it’s mostly bare. There’s a dark hardwood floor, and what looks almost like a stage at the end of the room, and the large area has huge, arching windows on the opposite side - but apart from the general splendor of a ballroom in a castle, there’s nothing else to the room.

  He leads me into the center, and I spy the speakers attached to each of the walls, as well as the far more modern electrical kit just to the side of the stage. I raise an eyebrow at him in question.

  “Well, we couldn’t use an orchestra every time we just wanted to practice.” He grins at me, then pulls me in and kisses me deeply.

  I glance around - it’s strange being in such a big space, but being alone enough for something like that. And with a slight blush, I remember my thought about fucking in every room of the castle. I try to push that thought away and smile at him, stepping close.

  I reach one hand up to his shoulder, and the other around his waist - even if I am standing far too close - and look at him expectantly.

  “You are going to teach me, right?”

  He laughs, leans down and kisses me again - then backs away and turns toward the music.

  “Of course I am.” He calls over his shoulder, as he goes to find the right tracks.

  “You really do like this stuff, huh?” I ask, watching.

  “Yeah, it was one of the few things I learned easily.”

  He presses a few buttons, and the music around us changes obediently, becoming more fast paced and upbeat. It’s an impressive track - classical, of course - with a powerful rhythm to it, and I can already feel myself wanting to sway and move to it.

  “Have you ever done any dancing before?” He asks as he comes closer, taking my hands and positioning them in the correct place against him this time. The way he’s standing, our bodies are naturally tilted slightly away from each other, and I can’t help the slight thrum of disappointment about that.

  “I’ve been to a fair few house parties.”

  He rolls his eyes at me. “I mean real dancing.”

  “No.” I grin at him, then lean in and kiss his lips.

  “I can already tell you’re going to be a difficult student.” He says, but his eyes are shining.

  “Mm…and what are you going to do about that?” I ask, unable to help myself.

  “Hey, behave Princesca. I thought you were the one worried I was getting distracted.”

  I grin at him, but he evades my next kiss, and steps backwards. Where he’s holding my hand and waist pulls me with him - and then suddenly we’re moving.

  “Concentrate.” He murmurs, and starts - very slowly - telling me the basic steps. “It’s a form of Latin dancing, if you’ve ever seen any of that. Very popular with the British, and the dances we use today are a kind of blend of Aldoran and British.”

  He gives me a brief lesson on the history of what we’re learning and how it developed into what it is today, volunteering the kind of detail that he’s never once explained about any of the things I’ve actually asked about. At first it’s even frustrating, because I’m trying to concentrate on what I need to do and it’s distracting - but then, once I get into the hang of the first few steps, I’m surprised to find it’s actually helpful. It distracts me enough that my body just starts to move in the way it’s meant to, following the music and his lead, and it’s easier than I ever thought it would be.

  Until I start thinking about what I’m doing, and noticing that I’m kind of doing it, and then it all goes wrong again. But we correct, and he starts talking to me again, and I get lost in his voice and the steps and the music until we’re drifting around the dance floor, and I feel almost exhilarated.

  “You…actually are pretty good at teaching.” I murmur, slightly surprised.

  “I’ve done this a lot.” He grins at me. “I had too much energy as a kid, and this was one of the few official ways I could use it and not be scowled at.”

  “Well…all that practice seems to have paid off.” I say with a small smile. “At least, for me. This is wonderful.”

  And it is. I stumble here and there, and I go wrong occasionally, but…it’s not as hard as I was afraid it would be. And I’m pretty sure Derek is a good part of the reason for that. And when we get it right…it’s almost magical. I can see why some kids dreamed of this, I guess. It’s like floating around the
room, being led and guided by a strong, powerful figure entirely focused on you and this energy between you both.

  The rest of the world disappears, and it’s just all about your bodies moving together and apart, gliding past each other, tangling and turning and gliding. Like the slow and languid and building kind of sex.

  I don’t realize I said that out loud until he laughs, his eyes shining at me.

  “I’ve always thought that, you know.” He leans forward, murmuring to me. “That dancing with someone…it’s almost like having sex. A little exertion, that joined movement and focus, how intimate and personal it feels to have that kind of connection…”

  I flush, but I meet his eyes anyway, seeing the light there.

  “I think I’m going to have to look out for you dancing with anyone else, Derek…” I murmur, and he laughs again.

  Then he completes some elaborate move that ends up with me pulled into his body, his hands against my back holding almost all my weight as we continue moving across the dance floor - and he leans in and kisses me.

  My heart flutters in my chest and it feels almost like I’m flying - then he does something that seems very much like the reverse of what he just did, and I’m back in the position I started. I just stare. I don’t think I did anything to contribute to those two elaborate moves.

  He seems to know exactly what I’m thinking. “See, you’ll be fine. Your role is easy, anyway - just follow your partner’s lead.”

  “What if they’re not as good as you?” I ask, suddenly nervous about the idea of dancing with anyone else.

  “Then you can spend the time they’re stepping on your toes reflecting on how impressive I am.” He smiles again, then pulls me in properly this time - no dance moves - and kisses me as we come to a stop.

  I want to object that that wasn’t a helpful answer, but I’m too lost in his body. It feels electric and exciting against me, and my arms are wrapped around his neck as my mouth melts against his. I start wondering whether actually, it might be easier to dance with someone else. I’m pretty sure doing this on the dance floor won’t be appreciated.

  “C’mon.” He breaks the kiss a moment later, stepping back. “There are still a few more to teach you.”

  I can’t work out whether I’m disappointed or relieved as - for once - he seems to have the focus and dedication not to get distracted from what we’re meant to be doing.

  As we work through the other dances, though, and I slowly start getting better and understanding what I’m doing - we start to dance closer together. It’s slow and subtle at first - enough that I think it might just be part of the dance - but by the time he’s reeled me in far enough that his leg rubs against the inside of my thigh when we move just so, I’ve started to suspect otherwise.

  “Derek…” I murmur.

  “Mm?” He asks, his hands lightly rubbing against my body as we move.

  It feels amazing, the combination of dancing and sensuality, and instead of objecting, I start mirroring what he’s doing. Pressing closer to him when I can, feeling the buzz of our skin against each other, getting lost in his eyes as we get closer and closer together…

  Until he’s leaning down to kiss me. Dancing, and swirling, and kissing. My pussy clenches tight at the feeling, aching and wanting him all of a sudden as our tongues tangle together and my heart beats hard in my chest. It’s partly the exertion - but I think it’s mostly Derek - and then we’re close enough that his hands move to hold my back, one running down to cup my ass.

  I’m pretty sure that isn’t a traditional dance position. But I start moving my hips against his, encouraged by the light pressure on my ass - and my hands drop lower too. His head dips to kiss and suckle at my neck and I moan against him, my legs suddenly feeling a little weak for dancing.

  We shift into a slow dance, which gets more and more dirty as desire and need take over. It’s not long before he’s backing me towards the wall of the ballroom and I can feel the rigid outline of his cock against his embellished pants.

  “Derek…” I murmur again, as his hand comes up my skirt and lifts it. I glance towards the door. “Someone could…”

  “No one will.” He says again, his eyes hot with interest. “These rooms are hardly ever used, and besides - this one is clearly…occupied.”

  I moan again. “What if…”

  But I don’t manage to finish it. His mouth takes mine, and against all rational thought, my hands start working his belt open too. I feel wet and slick and ready for him, and I don’t want to wait another moment. I’ve never used dancing as foreplay before, but my god, I think I need to start.

  And from how thick and hard his cock is when it finally springs free of his pants, I can tell he feels the same. His hand slips my panties down my legs, and I gasp as air hits my exposed pussy.

  “Derek…” I say again, but I don’t want him to stop. Not really.

  He doesn’t. He raises my panties to his nose and inhales deeply, making my stomach clench again in heat - and then he stuffs them in his pocket and pushes me against the wall again. I’m trapped between the hard wooden paneling and his powerful body, and I quiver with the anticipation as the tip of his cock nudges at my entrance. His eyes are hot on mine, and I reach up to draw his mouth to mine.

  “What do you want?” He murmurs, kissing at my lips and pulling my head back by my hair as he does.

  I shudder.

  “You.” I say, my voice husky and desperate, my pussy already spasming in anticipation. “Your cock. I want you inside me, fuck, Derek…this is so fucked…”

  He laughs, low and intoxicating, and then he positions himself and slams home with one hard thrust. My body shudders and my toes curl from it. I raise my legs to fold around his hips, and he pulls me into him as he starts thrusting me hard against the wall. I’m suddenly glad that all these walls are so thick and impressive, because with the strength he’s going, I’m not sure whether it would have held otherwise…as it is, I fear for the warm wooden panels.

  “Oh, fuck…” I mutter, kissing and sucking at his lips and tongue as I feel his cock filling every part of me.

  He thrusts hard and fast inside me, not letting up for a moment, and I can’t get enough of it. I don’t know what it is - the stamina, the power, the way I feel the sweet, gliding friction lighting up every nerve in my body…but it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Most guys don’t seem to quite understand when I say ‘harder’ or ‘faster’, like they think they’ll break me or something. But with Derek, I feel alive and powerful and able to take everything he wants to give me.

  And he doesn’t hold back. My hips are moving in time with his, arching up so that my clit rubs up against him every time he buries himself to the hilt, and the sparks that sends through me are enough to have the warmth and lust and need threatening to overtake me. He’s grunting in my ear, muttering about how good I feel, and I can feel what I do to him. The way his cock pulses and throbs inside me, the way he groans whenever I squeeze down tight around him.

  “Ohh, Derek…I’m going…I can’t…”

  “Cum, Princess. I want to feel it. I want you milking my cock.” He murmurs in my ear, and that’s all it takes to shoot me over the edge. He kisses me deeply as it washes over me, his mouth and cock and hands on my ass feeling amazing against every sensitive part of me as it explodes through me, my body tensing and shuddering as I moan loudly into his ear. My pussy clenches hard around his cock, and I can feel myself squeezing and sucking and wanting his hard, pulsing cock inside me.

  As he thrusts through my orgasm, he pushes me back against the wall and buries his head in my neck, grunting once and twice and then…his warm seed fills me, and I can feel it hitting my pussy as I clench around him, my whole body holding onto him. He moans in my ear, and we’re both breathing hard together as our bodies shudder just a little. Then we’re kissing and touching and sighing against each other, until the thick, hazy desire starts to pass and he finally sets me down on shaky legs.

&n
bsp; “Fuck.” I say softly, kissing his chest as I keep my arms wrapped around him.

  “Fuck indeed.” He murmurs, running his hands through my hair.

  I wonder idly whether anyone heard us, but I’m not sure I really care. I feel far too good for that, and my body is still tingling with the strength and unexpectedness of all that.

  “Here.” He says, and I blink up at him, slightly disoriented.

  He presses something into my hands, and that smirk is back on his face. “You might need these.”

  It takes me a moment to work out he’s handing me back my panties, and then I feel myself flushing.

  Sure, Hanna, you can get fucked up against the wall of a ballroom, but being given your panties? That’s embarrassing?

  I ignore that voice and take a deep breath.

  “Uhuh.” I nod.

  I’m still intending to rest right here, against this beautiful wall of muscle and power and strength, for quite a while yet.

  “So…did you learn what you wanted to, Princesca?” Derek asks, his eyes light with humor and that mischievous grin on his face. Something inside me flutters to see it, and I smile.

  “Mm, sure.” I say, looking up at him and laughing. “I feel so much more prepared now.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Derek

  The Court Ball is held a couple of days later.

  I know Hanna is nervous - I can tell from the way she keeps asking questions, even about things she already knows the answer to. And the sweet way she gets a little jittery, and skips around her rooms, lost in thought and generally distractible. But unlike with the Court Dinner, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have any reason to be.

  I can’t believe the amount of prep she’s put into this with Granna - or even how much Granna seems willing to help her. Hanna must have made a good impression on my Granna, since she can be an…intimidating woman, at the best of times, and it’s not often she’ll throw her support behind something. But for some reason, she’s one of the few members of my family that Hanna hasn’t seemed nervous around.