Dirty Prince

by Vanessa Waltz

  Liam smiles brilliantly at the crowd, still waving at them with enthusiasm. Let’s see how the prince does with his cock in my mouth.

  I tease him first, sliding my fingers under his briefs and running them along his warm skin. He tenses when I kiss the tantalizing bump straining the cotton. Then I slide my hands up the backs of his legs and under his underwear to grab his firm ass. I touch his gorgeous legs, catching his cock in my fist as it bounces free. I stroke him slowly, occasionally glancing up to gauge his reaction. I open my mouth, breathing hot air over the pebbled head. The excitement from how hard he is for me warms my body like drinking something hot.

  My lips touch his head. I flick my tongue over his clean skin, feeling the vein on the underside of his cock rush with blood. I laugh with him in my mouth, closing my lips around him as I take him in, feeling him slide down my throat.

  Liam’s smile falters. He grabs on to the car as though for support.

  I swirl my tongue around his head before I ram his cock down my throat. I run my lips along his length, licking at his underside. Liam closes his eyes, reopens them, and the smile reappears on his face.

  Men outside openly cry as their prince waves at them through the roof of the car.

  As I suck his cock.

  Prince Liam’s khakis are bunched at his ankles as I crouch, face-to-face with his cock. I hear the cheers of the crowd through Liam’s open window as though they’re cheering for me.

  Suck his cock! Give him head! You go, girl!

  Let’s see if I can make Liam lose his cool.

  My lips surround his head, and I waste no time as I lean forward, his length sliding into my mouth. My tongue moves in circles as my jaw adjusts to his girth, and I look up into the brilliant sunshine. Liam’s jaw is slack.

  What if I tease him? Will he lose control?

  I let Liam’s pulsing cock rest in my mouth for a few seconds, and then he gently thrusts, sinking into my mouth. I meet him at the base of his cock, sucking hard when he pulls back. He’s completely forgotten the crowd at this point. Livid eyes stare down at me through the window as he grabs the edge of the car and thrusts harder.

  Oh shit.

  My plan was to make him come while he waved at the crowd, but Liam sinks back into the car. He slams the window shut. The look on his face is extreme. There’s a vein bulging on his forehead, and for a moment, I don’t know what he’s going to do. Then suddenly he throws me violently over his knees. He flips my dress over my back, and his nails scrape my skin as he rips my panties to my knees. I feel the cool sting of the air before the wicked burn of his palm, spanking me harder than I’ve ever felt before. The blows reverberate through my body, and then he smooths his hand over the raw skin, soothing me for a few seconds. Then before I’ve had time to adjust, he yanks me upright, his teeth bared.

  “You think you’re so fucking hilarious.”

  Give me a break. “You loved it.”

  Something breaks the calm in his normally unflappable eyes, and it sends a bolt of energy into my veins, because I know what that look means.

  He wrenches my legs apart, snapping my panties off my ankles first, and then with our clothes askew and a thousand people surrounding us outside, he sinks into my throbbing pussy. He fucks me with all the fury in his body, and I push against the side of the car to keep myself from buckling. Every thrust electrifies my skin with pleasure. He bends forward, pushing open my blouse. He rips my bra to the side, exposing my breast. I arch my back as his tongue scorches my tits, and then he bites down, yanking back my hips.

  “You’ve been a very”—he thrusts deep—“naughty princess. You deserve every bit of this. Say it.”

  I clutch his wool sweater, which is soaked through with sweat.

  “I’ll stop fucking you if you don’t say it.”

  “I-I deserve it.”

  “Good.”

  Ecstasy pierces my core as his thickness shoves forward again.

  “The rest of it too.”

  “I’m a… naughty princess.”

  His eyes narrow. “Yes, you are.”

  I scream as he rubs my clit, his thumb working enthusiastically as he pumps harder. His styled hair flies around his face, ruined by his antics. He goes taut, and then he pulls out, ripping my blouse open and shoving my bra to my throat. He strokes his cock as his other hand works my clit, and then it slips inside—Oh God. An explosion bursts through my body as my pussy contracts hard. Thick ropes of cum land on my tits as he pumps his cock. He rolls his eyes as a groan rips from his throat, and another hot jet lands on my nipple.

  “I told you that you’d love my cum on your tits.”

  I do. Liam sits on my legs, looking immensely proud of himself as he rakes a hand through his hair.

  “You look so unbelievably hot like this.”

  My skirt is pushed to my waist, blouse ripped open and missing several buttons, and his cum pools over my skin like icing.

  Suddenly the noise from the crowd grows, or we become aware of it again, and Liam’s eyes widen.

  “Oh fuck. We’re supposed to get out now.”

  He yanks up his briefs and pants as I shoot bolt upright, looking for something to wipe off the cum.

  There isn’t anything.

  “No time. Just put your blouse back on.”

  “I’m covered in your fucking cum! They’re gunna—”

  “Sir—”

  I close my blouse over my tits as the door flies open to a hundred photographers.

  NAUGHTY PRINCESS: Trying for a Royal Baby?

  Princess Daisy was caught yesterday afternoon at the welcoming party for the newlyweds with her skirt pushed up and her blouse open. Did she have the prince between her thighs, or are they trying for a baby? Click here for more!

  The fucking Royal Exposé.

  I cover my mouth with both hands as a noisy sob escapes my chest. The screen blurs as tears flood my eyes. A warm pressure slides over my shoulder and squeezes.

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “Yes, it really is.”

  “You think I haven’t had paparazzi shots of my dick?”

  “This wasn’t from a long lens. We shouldn’t have done it.”

  My parents are going to see everything. I want to crawl under the bed and die.

  Liam shuts the laptop and picks me up off the chair. I blink, and tears slide down my face. He brushes them aside as a passionate gleam shines in his eyes.

  “I don’t regret a thing.”

  “O-of c-course you don’t! That’s me they’re demonizing there.”

  “Oh who gives a fuck about the tabloids? You had sex with your husband on your honeymoon. Stop the fucking press!”

  “Don’t try to trivialize this.”

  “I’m trying to make you feel better. They’re going to keep at you the entire time we’re married, probably well after that too.”

  Liam holds me against his chest, rubbing my back as tears inexplicably build up in my eyes. I wrap my arms around him and let out an exhausted sigh. God, it’s been weeks since I’ve been held like this. We said we’d just be friends with benefits, and yet my heart jumps when he touches my chin and claims my lips. It’s a sweet kiss, the first one that really makes me want another.

  A knock at the door makes me jump.

  “Your Highness, the inn has prepared breakfast. Shall I bring it to your room?”

  “We’ll be down in a moment. Thank you.”

  “Right you are, sir.”

  The steps creak as he descends the staircase.

  I pull away from Liam’s arms as my stomach roils. I’m in no mood to pretend to be someone I’m not.

  “Don’t let it ruin your day. You’re not the first royal to be caught in a scandal, nor will you be the last.”

  I wipe the tears from my eyes. Damn it, I shouldn’t let this stupidity get to me. He’s right. In a week there will be something new.

  I take Liam’s hand, and we walk out of the small, bright room and down several flights of st
airs. It’s a very homey bed and breakfast with a sunroom attached to the living room. Rain patters the windowpanes on the ceiling. The beams are painted white, and there’s an old-fashioned, whitewashed table sitting in the middle. There’s already a pot of tea and place settings for two. Seeing all of this reminds me of Tom, who owned the B&B I booked. Liam pours the tea for us.

  The man whose voice I heard outside the door smiles as he enters the sunroom, his livered arms trembling under the weight of his plates.

  He carefully drops one of them in front of me. It’s the same dish I had at Tom’s. It’s a plate of fried food: beans covered in red sauce, a tomato, mushrooms, potatoes, and fish.

  “Thank you.”

  “We’re so honored to have the prince and princess staying with us. Please enjoy.”

  We eat the breakfast quickly and spend the rest of the morning walking through Kirkenhaum. Liam’s robust security team keeps most of the people at bay. Then we squeeze though a particularly narrow street.

  Smile. Shoulders back. Walk like a princess.

  I’m too focused on maintaining my princess image to really pay attention to the woman wearing a Liam and Daisy Royal Wedding t-shirt fighting tooth and nail to get through the circle.

  “Daisy! Daisy! What’s his cock taste like?” I spend about a second wondering what the appropriate princess response to a question like this would be before I burst into laughter. Liam, ever the model prince, smiles at the crowd and blissfully ignores her.

  “Let me touch his cock!”

  “Damn you, woman! Get back!” The guards seize her shoulders.

  I dissolve into tears of laughter as cameras flash around me. Liam pulls me to his side, whispering, “What does my cock taste like?”

  “Rainbows and unicorns. That’s what I think she expected me to say.”

  His teeth flash as deep laughter bursts from his chest. Then he ushers me inside a pub, half his guards remaining outside. The bartender, a balding gentleman wearing a flannel shirt, approaches the prince.

  “Good afternoon. I’d like to watch the football match, if possible,” Liam says.

  “Of course, Your Highness. We’ve been expecting you. Come.”

  The pub is a dingy little place. No frills. But I sense it’s a popular local spot. It looks like any typical sports dive bar in America, except there are soccer jerseys on the walls, and autographed posters and balls. The patrons are gathered around the giant LED screen where players dressed in white are running across a green field. Their heads wheel around as they see us take one of the seats near the TV. The whispers begin almost immediately. I’m waiting for one of them to mention how they saw my tits on The Royal Exposé this morning.

  “Um, I thought Manchester United was your team.”

  The little marquee says Kirkenhaum Knights, and the players are dressed in white with dark blue accents. The bar cheers when the goalie fields a ball aimed at the top of the goal. The noise almost drowns me out, and Liam looks around panicked.

  “Keep your voice down. In private I support Manchester United.”

  “Okay, okay. Whatever.”

  Bored, I watch the people at the bar as our waiter sets two pints of beer on the wooden table. Liam orders a steak-and-ale pie for himself, and not wanting to miss anything, I ask for the same thing.

  “Fuck yes, Keep!” Liam explodes, bashing his fist against the table after another save. “Get those fuckers out of there!”

  The bar roars in approval of their prince.

  Liam’s behavior becomes more and more belligerent as he drains the glass of beer. Frankly, I don’t really give a shit. The steak-and-ale pie is fantastic, and I’m content to eat it in peace. If only he’d stop screaming at the TV.

  “Get the fucking ball! What are you doing? No!”

  My fork clatters loudly on the bowl. “Okay, you know they can’t actually hear you through the TV, right?”

  “It’s the championships, Daisy,” he says, turning back toward the TV. A deep scowl darkens his face. “Oh, piss off, Ref!”

  My eyes unfocus as I stare at the screen, trying in vain to get into the game. I can’t. I’m so bored.

  Liam nearly upends the table as his team, I think, scores. The rest of the bar stands with him, clapping as he lets out an earsplitting whistle. Finally, halftime kicks in and commercials take over the screen. Liam sits back, slightly resembling his usual self.

  “Didn’t you play sports as a kid?” he asks.

  “Some. I never really liked soccer though.”

  The color drains from Liam’s face, his fingers whitening on his glass.

  “What? I’m the devil for not liking soccer? Well, sorry. I don’t.”

  Chairs creak as the patrons twist around to stare at me. It’s alarming to see the angry looks hurled my way. Liam closes his mouth and turns away from me. Heat stings my cheeks.

  “What?”

  “Don’t ever, ever use that word.”

  “What word?”

  “You know what word, dammit!”

  “Soccer?”

  His eyes widen into saucers. “I told you to stop!”

  “What’s so horrible about it?”

  “That is not the word we use. The proper word is football. Football, Daisy.”

  “You look like the flesh is about to melt from your face.”

  “It literally will if you say that word one more bloody time!”

  My face burns as the bar goes silent. A pin could drop and I’d hear it. I look straight into his eyes.

  “Soccer.”

  “Daisy,” he bellows.

  “What is wrong with it?”

  “It’s a bastardization of our language.”

  I laugh in his face. “You realize the English invented that word, right?”

  “We hate the fucking English!”

  “Then blame them for inventing it, not me.”

  “At any rate, it’s associated with Americans.”

  “Well, I’m American, buddy. You better get used to it. I use words like soccer, fanny packs, and bangs all the time.”

  He winces at each word. “You live in this country, Daisy. You’re the fucking princess. Treat it with an ounce of respect.”

  “I am!” I stand, not giving a shit that I’m causing a huge scene. “I’m trying really hard, but I am not from here. I am American, and I’m not going to apologize for that!”

  I leave him sitting there as I run toward the bathrooms, passing a giant Loo sign, and dread fills my chest. Instead, I walk toward the glowing Exit sign.

  The door bursts open as I crash into it, and the rain falls on my cheeks. My feet nearly trip over the cobblestones on the roads. I hate this place. I hate the persistent, gloomy sky and the constant rain. Everything’s different. Even the signs on the street look alien to me. There’s also the fact that everyone in this country seems to hate my guts.

  I walk out of the back alley in these fucking princess heels that make my feet ache, wishing I could rip them off and throw them down the street.

  The gentle pattering of rain seems to slow. I peek around the corner, spotting the huge crowd surrounding the bar and the media vans parked out front. A violent shudder runs through my body, anxiety leaping in my chest as I turn my back on them and walk away.

  Where are you going?

  I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore, only that I’m going insane trying to fit my awkward feet into these shoes while walking like a princess, talking like one. I’m a pig in a wig. It’s just temporary.

  Tears mingle with the rain on my face as I walk down the mostly empty street.

  Then a woman stares at my face for a little too long, and I glance away. “Princess Daisy!”

  I ignore her.

  “It’s the princess.”

  “No,” I shoot back. “I’m not.”

  She runs toward me, her phone clutched in her hand. “Please, could I get a photograph? For my daughter?”

  “I’m not a princess!”

/>   Taken aback, she stands still as I walk past her. But there are more people noticing. I feel eyes on my face. Strange men run toward me, and a leap of panic stabs my chest. A white van rolls up to the curb where I’m standing.

  Oh God, I’m being kidnapped.

  The door slides open, and men with giant cameras shove them in my face, taking pictures.

  “Smile for the camera, love.”

  “Stop. Please!”

  A wall of curious people block the way ahead, and I try to push past the paps, but they won’t let me through. The way back is flooded with people too. There’s no way out. People press against me on all sides, demanding autographs, pictures, grabbing my sleeve.

  “Let me through!”

  Panic builds up in my throat, and I can see my own shivering face in the dark lenses of the cameras madly clicking away.

  “Get the fuck off!”

  An enraged voice bellows from outside the circle, and then I see Liam parting the sea of people with his guards. He catches my gaze, his eyes narrowed in faint annoyance as he tries to smile for the cameras, laughing off the fact his idiot wife got lost. At least, that’s what I imagine the spin will be in tomorrow’s paper.

  “Move aside. Move!”

  The guards roughly shove people back with their massive arms as Liam plucks me from the crowd and yanks me into his chest. The next few seconds are a blur of movement as I’m practically dragged and stuffed into the car.

  Liam slams the door shut. “Are you fucking mental?”

  My back hits the back of the car seat as we drive away. My hands are still shaking, the sapphire ring vivid against my pale skin.

  “I-I forgot.”

  “You forgot? That’s your excuse?”

  His eyebrows fly somewhere in his hair as I give him a miserable look. Then he sighs, ripping off his jacket and wrapping it around me.

  “Daisy, listen to me. You can’t take walks on your own anymore. Millions of people know where you are and what you look like. Our wedding was broadcast to hundreds of countries. You’re no longer just an ordinary girl from California, you’re a princess—”