He moved, his lips reluctantly leaving hers to explore her chin and neck, making biting little kisses, sending curls of heat shooting through her entire body. His lips danced lower ... even lower ... grazing the slope of her left breast ...
A quaver started in her belly at the desperate way his hot mouth captured her beaded nipple. She arched into his mouth and cried out as he sucked strongly. Varied sensations splintered within her, going straight to her core and causing a strange tension to build up in her belly.
“Sweet ...”
“Frederick ...”
“You're mine, Serena.” His breath feathered her nipples. “Mine. Say it!”
Her head fell back. “Yours.”
He continued his sensual assault on her other breast, intensifying her pleasure as he suckled. Delayed, their conversation suddenly registered in her brain. With a strength born of alarm, she pushed him away. “No!”
Her breast popped free of his mouth. Frederick staggered and fell off the chaise. He stared up at her in bewilderment from the floor as she frantically held her torn bodice together. “Wha ‑‑ ?”
Serena tried to sit regally, but she surmised that she failed miserably with her hair all tousled and her hand holding the bodice of her gown together. Gazing down at the man lying at her feet, she wished they didn't have to stop. She missed his kiss already. But they had to. She had to. “I'm a princess.”
Just those three words and his face changed back, became hard and unyielding, forbidding and stern. His eyes lost the slumberous look, turning empty and cold.
She almost wished time would flow back. If it did, she probably would've kept her mouth shut and just gone on kissing him.
He stood up and dusted himself. “Prove it.” His stance echoed the challenge he had just voiced. .
Serena was taken aback at the hard glitter in his eyes. She recognized the distinct disadvantage of her position when she was forced to look up at Frederick. Moreover, his request ‑‑ rather, demand ‑‑ wasn't expected. “What?”
“You say you're a princess. Prove it!” When she just continued to look at him, he continued disdainfully, “Surely, you don't expect us to just take your word for it, do you?”
His insult was too much. She put on “her princess face,” as her youngest sister used to call it. It was a visage devoid of emotion, cold and forbidding as his. “I am a princess. My word is truth. Whether you believe or not is up to you.”
Serena delivered her words with indifference, but deep inside, she was hurting. How could he kiss her like that and not believe her? She was startled from her thoughts by the sound of slow clapping.
She lifted her eyes.
“I must commend you for that little speech. It almost has a ring of truth in it, as Stepmother said.” His eyes mocked hers. “Who taught you that little trick?”
Serena felt sick and bewildered. What was he accusing her of doing? “I don't understand. What are you saying?”
“Oh, cut out the acting, princess .” She did not like the sneer on his face. “I know who you are.”
Serena paled. She shifted on the chaise and clutched her bodice tighter. He knew? How did he know? She had been so careful last night ... “Who am I?” Her tone was carefully neutral.
“I don't know where you're from ...”
Serena breathed a sigh of relief.
“But I know that you're a pretty good schemer angling to be the next crown princess of Mithirien.”
Stunned silence.
Then a burst of shocked laughter bubbled from her lips. “Why would I ... want to be a princess ... when I'm already one?”
Through eyes slitted from laughter, she saw uncertainty cross his face, saw it dissolve into an embarrassed but determined resolve to maintain his stance, if for nothing else but his dignity. She understood; she had been in the same situation countless times before.
“But you're not.” He held himself stiffly. “You're a common peasant with your eyes on riches and rank. You've learned that I'm looking to wed a real princess, and came up with this scheme to trap me. You know, it's to your advantage if you can prove that you're a princess. I don't know. Maybe you can ask someone to pose as your father, the king of some never-heard-of kingdom. If we can establish somehow that you're a princess, I might even marry you.” He leered at her. “Anything to possess that lovely body. Whoever sent you has certainly studied me very well. They knew I wouldn't be able to resist a woman as beautiful and lush as you. Few men could.” He murmured the last few words huskily as he slid his hand over the hard bulge outlined by his tight breeches.
Like a magnet, Serena's eyes were drawn to the movement of his hand, and everything in her melted with desire. When he reached out a hand toward her, she came to her senses and her head snapped up, desire giving way to a hard, burning anger. How dare he distract her with something like that?
She jumped up from the chaise, her skirts swishing, her eyes blazing and her red hair flowing behind her like a scarlet cape. “For one, ‘common' and ‘peasant' are redundant. For another, I have no wish to marry you.” In her fury, the words tripped over one another in their rush to get out. One finger pointed at him, jabbing his chest with each word. “For a third, if you're really a prince, you would be offering me your jacket, instead of taking advantage of my dishabille. For a fourth, if I marry, when I marry ” ‑‑ a particularly hard jab poked him in the chest ‑‑ “he's going to be someone who'll love and cherish me, and not someone who wants only my body and acts like he wants to eat me up. Whole. Like a snake.” Her eyes flashed fire. “Lastly, I'm not about to stand here and be insulted. I'm leaving! Right this very minute.”
A particularly loud clap of thunder boomed across the sky. Serena checked in her motion toward the door.
“Wait!”
She knew she'd hate herself later for it, but she stopped.
“Are you really a princess?”
“I don't have to answer you.”
“Please.”
“Don't you know how insulting that question is after I've assured you all repeatedly that I am?”
“Try to understand it from our point of view, Serena. You dropped in from out of nowhere, with no retinue whatsoever ‑‑ a behavior never heard of in a princess ‑‑ and you expect us to believe whatever you say just like that?”
Hearing it put that way, Serena had to admit they were right to be wary of her. Royalty, especially the ruling family, have always been targets for whatever crazy reasons.
“Why would this time be any different?” Her voice came out cold and frosty, the way she intended.
“Turn around and look at me, Serena.”
After hesitating for a moment, she turned and met his gaze head-on.
“Because you'll be looking into my eyes while you said it. Eyes don't lie.”
Her back stiffened. “I am a princess.”
“I believe you.” A smile crossed his lips, dispelling the tension in the room. “You're not scheming to trap me into marriage?”
She found that she couldn't hold on to her anger in the face of that smile. She smiled back. “It never crossed my mind.”
“Pity.” His low voice carried in the quiet room, the rain muted by the tightly closed windows. “You would've made a beautiful queen.”
A frown creased her brows. “I don't understand you. First, you're angry that I'm trapping you into marriage. Now, you're wishing that I want to marry you?” Her voice rose incredulously on the last words. “And they say women are fickle-minded.” She scowled.
“I ache and burn for you, Serena.” Serena was shaken to see his eyes darkened with need. “If I have to marry you in order to possess you, I will.” His gaze dropped down to her mouth.
A curl of heat unfurled in her. Serena was floored, even as one part of her thrilled at his words. No matter who he believed she was, he wanted her. Her . Serena, the woman ‑‑ not the princess. Yet, another part was dismayed. He talked of possessing, but not of love; of his body's needs, but not of his h
eart. Shouldn't the two go together? She was confused, for it was very evident to her that for Frederick, they were very separate. Also, didn't he already have a betrothed, his stepsister Giselda? What did he take her for, some kind of fool? Or maybe she was to be his mistress?
At this thought, she bristled. “Watch what you're saying, Your Highness. Remember who you're speaking to.” If he had professed his love, she probably would have ... But it would be a lie. No, it's better this way.
“Now I've made you angry.” He smiled ruefully and dipped his head in apology. “I'm only saying what I feel. You wouldn't want me to lie to you, would you?”
Her lips trembled. What did she want? Suddenly, nothing was clear anymore. She thought she wanted marriage to a nice prince who'd love her and settle down and have half a dozen lovely children. But now, her father was forcing her to marry an old lecher. She had found her prince ‑‑ a prince, she corrected herself hastily ‑‑ but he didn't have marriage in mind. Oh, he did, but only because he wanted to have her body, which he couldn't have any other way. To top it all off, she couldn't really fault him, for she was having these odd feelings for his body, like kissing him and seeing if his body was really as perfect as it had felt when he was lying almost on top of her. She had tingled in places she didn't know she had when he had caressed his ‑‑ she gulped! ‑‑ cock. She had wanted to see what it looked like, wanted to touch and feel and kiss. Even with the space between them ‑‑ almost three feet ‑‑ she could sense his tension, a raw magnetism that called out to her befuddled senses.
But more than that, she wanted to know him, to know how his mind worked and to understand the events that molded him into the man that he was right now. She wanted to erase the cynicism she saw in his eyes and unearth the child-like trust and wonder that she was certain lurked somewhere deep in his soul. She wanted to find something worthy in this man who affected her as no man ever had.
“Has ‑‑” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Has it happened before?” At his blank look, she explained, “Peasant girls claiming to be princesses and all that.”
He snorted. “It happens all the time. But it became especially serious these last two years when I was out wife-hunting, to the point that I was ready to give up and to forget all about it. But I couldn't.” He was silent for a moment. “I'm the Crown Prince of Mithirien, and I have a duty to my family, to my lineage, and to my kingdom.”
The vise clamped tighter around Serena's heart. This was what the queen was talking about last night ‑‑ this duty. At the same time, her heart squeezed at the strained look on his face and in his eyes. How she wished she could take away all his burdens. No wonder he was always so serious. Even in his enjoyment of her body, he was so intense. The heavy weight of responsibility must have pressed down on him.
“So you're looking for a princess to wife ‑‑”
“Not just any princess.” He strode swiftly to stand before her. “But a real princess.”
“Why?” Was that why he was marrying Giselda? Did she count as a real princess?
“I promised my mother. She was dying.”
“I'm sorry.” She offered her condolences in a quiet voice.
“It was a long time ago, about eight years. I guess I'm lucky, because I got to know her before ... before ...”
“You miss her.”
“She was a wonderful mother.”
“I'm sure she must have been.”
“I killed her.”
* * * * *
What people are saying about
Tales of Enchantment 1: The Question of Royalty
The Question of Royalty is a nicely written story that lovers of prince and princess stories who get a happy ending will enjoy… Kai Andersen did a great job writing a compelling tale that will make readers want to read more of her work.
‑‑ Claudia Maldonado, The Road to Romance
Ms. Anderson does a fine job in taking the idea of the fairy tale and making it into an erotic tale. She is able to keep the whimsical qualities of a fairy tale and imbue them with the sexy story content that brings it a unique and very readable twist.
‑‑ Kim, Coffee Time Romance
This story was surprisingly hot, enough so that Kai Andersen will be added to my auto-buy erotic list... I'd recommend Tales of Enchantment 1: The Question of Royalty on both the romance and erotic scenes, and especially on how well the relationships were shown between characters.
‑‑ Tara Black, The Romance Studio
Spell of Love: Lust Upon Roses Page 8
