The Princess I Hate to Love

by Iris Morland

  We began our search, going through my room despite my knowing that there was no way the cats could’ve gotten in there. We then began to search other, unused rooms along the corridor. Most of them were locked, the drapes inside the rooms drawn. The servants would air out the rooms on occasion, but it was unlikely they would’ve done so in the past twenty-four hours.

  “Did you name all of the cats?” I said after we’d looked through a bedroom that I’d never even been inside before.

  Niamh smiled. “I gave them car names. Portia, the mom, named after Porsche, obviously. The black kitten is Enzo, for Enzo Ferrari. The gray-and-orange one is Mercedes. And the gray striped one is Tesla.”

  My lips twitched. “Tesla? Really?”

  “Those cars are so cool! They drive themselves, Olivier.”

  “I’m surprised you’d want to drive an automated car. Doesn’t give you, the driver, much to do.”

  “The technology is so cool, though, but they’re so expensive.” She glanced at me. “You’re rich. How about you buy me one for our anniversary?”

  I laughed. “I could, but we have drivers. Seems rather a waste of money.”

  “Not if you wanted to get on my good side.”

  A pair of maids passed us, curtseying and nodding. As it was past nine o’clock, most everyone else was already in bed. I’d had to beg Claudine to give me her keys for the east wing. I had keys to my room and to Niamh’s, but there were so many bedrooms that it made little sense for me to have all of those keys, too.

  Claudine had nearly made me sign a contract in blood that I’d return all of the keys in the morning. She’d been running the palace before I’d been born, and she wasn’t at all cowed by her royal employers.

  We wandered a dim hallway, the walls lined with paintings. Niamh stopped to gaze at one that was my parents.

  “When was this done?” Niamh peered more closely to read the small sign next to the painting.

  “When they were first married, I think.” I gazed at the portrait. I’d seen it before, of course, but now I couldn’t help but see that my parents seemed stiff and awkward. They were both smiling, but I could almost see my mother leaning away from my father’s touch. Then again, I knew that sitting for portraits was exhausting. The last time I’d been painted, I’d nearly fallen asleep and had almost made the portrait artist toss the canvas at my head in frustration.

  “Do you think she’s still in love with…” Niamh gestured vaguely. “You know.”

  I tensed. “I have no idea.”

  “If she is, then that’s pretty sad. That’s a long time to pine for somebody. But maybe she loves your father, too, just not as much.”

  “Like I said, I don’t know.” I glanced down the hallway to see a closet door that, as I walked closer, seemed to be cracked open. I waved Niamh over. “Look, this door was left open.”

  Niamh pulled the door open, the hinges squealing. We both fumbled to find the light fixture. The light revealed a small, cramped closet filled with nothing out of the ordinary: a mop, vacuum, toilet paper, cleaning supplies. It was such a cramped space that Niamh and I couldn’t stand shoulder to shoulder inside it.

  “Wait! Do you hear that?” Niamh shushed me. “That rustling sound?”

  I strained my ears. Then, faintly, I heard what sounded like a meow.

  Niamh was behind me and had to press against my chest to get past me. Her breasts flush against me, she paused at the contact. At this angle, I could look down her robe to see her milky white cleavage. A flush heated her cheeks.

  “Um, sorry,” she whispered.

  “After you.”

  “You’re going to have to move. I’m stuck.”

  Considering there was a wooden shelf behind me, I could only go toward the door. I shifted to my left; Niamh, flustered, went in the same direction. I chuckled.

  “Now I’m getting the impression you want to rub yourself against me. Just like a cat,” I said.

  She raised herself up on the balls of her feet to dig—albeit lightly—her nails into my shoulders. “And I have claws, too.”

  “Oh, I’m very aware of that.”

  She giggled and pushed past me. It was nice to see her like this: lighthearted, flirtatious. She’d been this way during our Europe trip, and I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it.

  Niamh moved further into the closet, following the meows and rustling noises. Despite the narrowness of the space, it was surprisingly long. I wondered what its function would’ve been a century ago when the palace had been built.

  “I hear them, but I can’t find them.” Niamh was crouching near the floor, pulling out various items from the bottom shelf. A cloud of dust followed her, and we both sneezed in quick succession.

  “They wouldn’t be here. It hasn’t been touched in God knows how long,” I pointed out. I listened more intently and just barely moved past Niamh to the opposite corner. The shelf didn’t touch the wall, and there was about ten, maybe fifteen, centimeters of space there.

  I crouched down. It was too dark to see, so I turned on my phone’s flashlight. I could hear Niamh come up behind me.

  “Look.” I pointed. “There’s some kind of hole in the wall, I think.”

  Niamh’s hands were on my shoulders. She took out her own phone, turning on the light, and angled it so she could get a better view of the hole.

  “Found them! Portia, you brat. You had to hide yourself here of all places?” Niamh huffed out a laugh.

  I maneuvered so I could see the cats. And there they were: the mother and her three kittens, Portia looking not at all perturbed that she’d been found. The kittens were nursing busily, squeaking when one tried to steal the best nipple from its sibling.

  “Do you want to move her?” I said. I didn’t know how we’d manage without taking the entire shelf apart. How Portia had squeezed into such a small space and had moved her kittens, too, I didn’t know. It only served to make me less inclined to have a cat as a pet. Any creature that could maneuver through space like a liquid was suspicious.

  Niamh sighed. “No. I mean, I don’t know how we would. But I’m worried she’ll get locked inside. Someone must’ve forgotten to close the door completely, right?”

  “Most likely. I can let the staff know that she’s in here and she shouldn’t be disturbed.”

  Portia simply watched us with heavy eyelids. She looked rather proud of herself.

  After assuring Niamh that I made sure the door was left cracked open so Portia could get out, I began to follow Niamh out of the closet. But when she reached the door, she couldn’t open it.

  I pulled out my keys, only to realize there was no keyhole on this side of the door. I pulled at the knob; it was locked.

  “Shit,” I said. “We’re locked inside.”

  Niamh’s eyes widened, then she started laughing. “Of course we are. Did you pull it closed? I didn’t.”

  I didn’t remember doing that, but perhaps I had out of habit. I sighed.

  “I’ll have to call Laurent, get him to rescue us.”

  “Won’t he need a key?”

  I swore again. Laurent would have to wake Claudine, find a copy of the key, and then rescue us. Claudine would not be pleased to be roused from her sleep. It was already close to midnight.

  I called Laurent, who picked up on the fourth ring. After explaining, he assured me he’d acquire the key as soon as possible. But then five minutes later, he called again to say that Claudine had taken the night off and wouldn’t be back until the morning.

  I explained all of this to Niamh. She just bit her lip to keep herself from laughing again.

  “So you’re saying we’re going to be stuck here for a hot minute?” she said finally, her arms crossed.

  “Laurent will find a key, even if he has to forge it himself.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt that, although I’m not too sure about his blacksmithing skills. If all else fails, you can just break down the door, right?”

  I snorted. “With what? My fists
? A mop?”

  “I thought big, strong men all knew how to kick in a door.”

  “I’d be more likely to break my foot than the door.”

  “Some knight in shining armor you are.”

  Despite my frustration at our predicament, I felt the tension leave my shoulders. I was stuck in a cramped, dusty closet with my wife, and I had no idea when we would get out. It was a fucking disaster. Yet I couldn’t muster the anger.

  Niamh was pink-cheeked, her robe having come untied. Her nightgown was made of pink silk, and it would take all of one simple movement to free her breasts to my gaze.

  “What should we do while we’re stuck in here?” She licked her lips.

  “We could always dust the shelves,” I quipped. I reached down and looped an arm around her waist. “It’s very dirty in here, you know. For a room full of cleaning things, it’s quite a mess.”

  “Are you trying to seduce me talking about Swiffer mops?”

  “Is it working?”

  She sighed. “Fuck you, Olivier.” Except the words held no rancor.

  I took that as a yes. I kissed her, pulling her flush against me. She wound her arms around my neck and returned the kiss with equal fervor. We had all of two meters of space to maneuver.

  The logical side of my brain was reminding me that this was a dumb idea. Sex in a closet sounded fun, until you realized that you’d have a hard, wooden shelf digging into your back or that you’d be sneezing from the dust floating everywhere.

  But I didn’t care. I was pulling my wife’s nightgown up, revealing that she wasn’t wearing any panties, and I didn’t care if we had to live in the closet for the rest of our lives. We’d make a house made of brooms and dust cloths and it would be the best fucking thing I’d ever had in my life.

  I massaged her ass cheeks before lightly spanking one after the other. Niamh squeaked in surprise.

  “That’s for not wearing panties to bed,” I growled.

  “Maybe I did it just for you to find.”

  I kissed her, thrusting my tongue into her mouth. I kneaded the globes of her ass, wishing I had the space to turn her over my knee for a real spanking. She’d put me through hell the past few months. Besides, based on the way she was writhing under my hands, she’d enjoy it.

  “I had no idea you were such an ass man,” she said against my throat.

  “I’m equal opportunity: ass, tits, legs.” I lifted her right leg to rest against my hip before slicking a finger through her folds. “Pussies,” I added.

  Her eyelids were heavy now as I played with her pussy. She was dripping, my fingers already drenched, as I stroked her clit with light touches.

  “You keep acting like you don’t want me, but every time I touch you,” I said, breathing hard, my cock like iron already, “you’re dripping wet. Why is that?”

  “If you don’t know, then you’re not a very smart guy.”

  I pushed two fingers inside of her at once for that remark. She moaned.

  “We won’t need to wait for a rescue with you making that much noise.” I sucked on the side of her neck. “They’ll wake up and call the police.”

  Niamh rolled her eyes, but she was still panting as I moved my fingers inside her tight sheath. “You think way too highly of yourself.”

  “That’s why you like me.”

  She just pulled my head down for another kiss. Groaning, I hoisted her up so her legs were wrapped around my waist before pressing her against the locked door.

  I fumbled with my trousers, Niamh laughing softly at me. She finally took pity on me and helped me with the zipper. When her fingers wrapped around the base of my cock, I was the one moaning. I pressed my forehead against the cool wood of the door.

  “I think you’re just as horny as I am.” Niamh gave me a squeeze. “Are you going to last longer than thirty seconds, dear husband?”

  I caught her gaze. Moving her hand away from my cock, I draped her legs over the inside of my elbows as I pressed my cock against her dripping pussy. I let the head stroke along the seam, playing with her.

  Her cheeks were already cherry red. When I notched my cock at the entrance of her pussy, I said, “Does this seem like I’ll last thirty seconds?”

  “You haven’t put it inside me yet. Doesn’t matter.”

  At that, I slid to the hilt in one smooth thrust. Niamh’s eyes rolled back inside her head. As for me, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep Niamh’s prediction from coming true. My fingers were digging into the globes of her ass as I forced her to hold still.

  “You know what I think?” I slowly pulled out, waited a beat, and then slowly pushed back inside. “I think you’re the one who’s going to detonate any second.”

  Niamh just shook her head furiously. “I’m not going to lose. No, no, no.” The noes came out as desperate moans.

  I chuckled. Although I wanted to pound into her until I emptied my balls inside her, I forced myself to keep my rhythm slow. I made myself watch as my wife tipped her head back, her eyes closed, her lips parted. I pulled her nightgown down so I could watch her tits jiggle as I fucked her.

  Mostly, I drank in the glassy-eyed look of ecstasy she had on her face, a look that I’d given her.

  “I think you’re about to come.” I held still inside of her. Her pussy muscles fluttered around the base of my cock. “You’re getting tighter and tighter.”

  She licked her lips. Reaching down her body, she began to rub her clit. It was such an erotic sight that I nearly came right then.

  “You’re going to come around my cock, aren’t you? I can feel you, Niamh, clenching around me.” I kissed her softly. At this point, I didn’t need to move; she was going to come simply with me keeping her stuffed full, her clever fingers dancing along her clit.

  “You’re so wet, I can feel you dripping down my balls.”

  Her panting increased, her rubbing getting faster. I pressed forward a millimeter further, until she could feel my pelvis against her clit.

  “Oh my fucking God, I’m coming—” She squealed. “I’m coming so hard!”

  I swallowed her yell with a kiss. She shuddered in my arms. The feeling of her orgasming on my cock, the way she felt in my arms, caused my own release to boil over. I groaned into her mouth as I came with seemingly endless spurts.

  I collapsed against her; the door was the only thing holding us both up. We were sweaty, red-faced, and probably looked completely ridiculous. Niamh’s hair was standing on end, and my own hair was probably no better. The closet smelled like sex and sweat. I licked the beads of perspiration from above Niamh’s lip.

  “Holy shit,” she whispered. She pulled me into a hug, clutching at me. “Holy shit, Olivier.”

  My heart was pounding so hard I felt it in my ears. I held her close.

  I didn’t want to think too deeply about the feeling roiling through me. I told myself it was just amazing sex. But as Niamh rubbed my back, like I needed to be soothed, I knew that what we’d just done had changed everything.

  I looked into her face, her beautiful, shining, sweaty face. Words burbled to the surface, but because I was damned coward, I said them in French. I whispered to her that she was so beautiful, amazing, she was everything I’d ever wanted without realizing I’d wanted it. Needed it. I’d needed her my entire life, I told her in whispered French.

  “What are you saying?” Niamh tilted her head to the side. “That’s cheating, you know, saying shit in French to me.”

  “I was reciting the lyrics to the national anthem,” I said.

  “Wow, I had no idea sex made you so patriotic.” She nipped my ear. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

  My brain was melted, so I couldn’t make up some excuse that made sense. Besides, it seemed like my English ability had melted along with my good sense. The only explanations I could come up with were in French.

  A moment later, I heard the tumblers of a lock turning. Then I was falling forward, Niamh screeching like a banshee as I fell on top of her. I rolled a
way just before I crushed her, but then another female voice was screeching that I put my trousers on.

  Christ Almighty, my trousers were down at my ankles still. I made the stupid decision of trying to stand up, but I became tangled in my own trousers, nearly falling into the embrace of Claudine, my cock free as a bird for all to see.

  “Your Highness!” Laurent grabbed my arm. “Are you all right?”

  Claudine was assisting Niamh to her feet. She’d already pulled her nightgown up, which was really a huge pity. I rather wanted everyone to know how amazing my wife’s breasts were.

  I slapped Laurent’s hands away when he tried to help me pull up my trousers. “I’m fine. Yes, I’m fine!” I felt surly and stupid as I zipped myself. I belatedly realized that I’d lost one of my slippers inside the closet.

  No one said anything for what felt like hours. Finally, Niamh said tentatively, “We didn’t hear you unlock the door.”

  “You could’ve knocked,” I added.

  “Sir, you’re right. I wasn’t thinking. I was so worried that I wanted to unlock the door immediately.” Laurent looked like he was about to burst into tears.

  “If Your Highnesses are all right, I would like to return to bed.” Claudine held out her hand. “My keys, sir?”

  As I dug around in my pockets, I came up empty-handed. Then Niamh pulled the keys from her robe pocket with a sly smile.

  “I wonder how they got in there,” she mused. “They must’ve fallen in during all of the…exercising we were doing.”

  Niamh returned the keys to Claudine, who looked as though she’d cheerfully drown us both like a bag of plague-ridden rats.

  “Thank you to you both.” I took Niamh’s arm. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “Are we going to exercise some more?”

  I pinched her, which just made her laugh with glee.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rain pattered against the window. It was an oddly cold, blustery day for late summer. Normally, the windows would be wide open, the palace tending toward being stuffy and hot.