Dirty Prince

by Vanessa Waltz

  Several male voices scream across the square, “Piss off!”

  The king smiles, wavering on unsteady feet. Then his drunken gaze fixes on me. “Princess Daisy, please come to the stage.”

  Liam grabs my wrist. “Don’t.”

  “What’s he going to do besides embarrass the hell out of himself?”

  “Maybe I don’t want my wife humiliated on national television.”

  My heart swells with affection, and I lean forward to kiss his cheek. “It’ll be fine.”

  His grasp slackens enough for me to break free, and then I walk toward the stage. From up here I can see how many signs there actually are. Holy shit. Absolutely none of them are in support of the new king, who seems to have trouble standing on the stage.

  “My brother has made a mockery of the royal family. I believe that is why my father entrusted the throne to me. I believe he would’ve led this country into ruin, as he has the last few months with his shocking and inappropriate marriage to an American. Prince Liam has no respect for Anglefell or its people, and I will not stand by idly while he insults our culture.”

  The advisors get up from the table as the crowd goes mental, shoving a guard backward. They flock toward Liam, who is still standing where I left him, seething.

  “I would like to issue my first royal command, which is the immediate deportation of all illegal residents, including Princess Daisy.”

  I’d like to see you try it, fucker.

  “She is guilty of more than just entering the country illegally. This woman is a spy.” He points at me accidentally with the microphone, too drunk to realize it’s in his hand.

  I grab the long stem, screaming into the microphone, “He murdered the king! He admitted it to Prince Li—”

  My voice is cut as the speakers switch off, but the cameras are still recording every moment. Even as Lucian tosses the microphone aside with a scream of fury and grabs the ceremonial sword at his waist. He unsheathes it, and in the corner of my eye I see Liam sprinting toward me, screaming. Lucian swings the sword in a high arc, and I aim a kick between his legs. The triangular shape of my heel stabs into Lucian’s crotch, and he lets out a piteous moan, dropping the sword and falling to his knees. He gasps for breath, and suddenly the crowd breaks free of the metal fences. They destroy the table, shoving it on its side as the roast sow bursts over the ground, wine spilling like blood.

  Lucian sits on his knees, clutching himself, the crown fallen by his side. “Seize her!”

  The guards make a move to arrest me, but Liam stands between me and them. “Your orders are to arrest the king and keep him in the dungeons until further notice. Make your decision.”

  Their eyes slide from me to the petulant man screaming on the ground, and they bend over, grabbing Lucian’s arms.

  “Unhand me! I am your king!”

  I tug at Liam’s sleeve. “We need to get the fuck out of here. This crowd is insane.”

  “Yeah. Hold on.” Liam stoops to grab the crown, gazing at it with a strange look on his face.

  The guards around Liam and I usher us to a running car as the riot breaks out in the town square. Liam shoves me inside unceremoniously, and our backs flatten against the seats as we drive off.

  “So… what now?”

  He breaks his gaze from the crown to look at me. I think he’s just as shocked as I am. “I have no clue. I knew he’d fuck up, but I didn’t think it’d happen so quickly.”

  The driver glances back through the window. “Sir, where should I take you?”

  I’ve never seen Liam so unsure. He holds the crown in his lap as a frown knits his eyebrows together. I slide my hand into his, squeezing it.

  “I know what I have to do, but I don’t want to do it.”

  “You can’t just do nothing, especially now the whole world has seen that.”

  His eyes cut at me. “Take us to the Royal Chapel.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The rest of the ride happens like an odd dream sequence. Suddenly, we’re there, staring at this massive gothic church. Liam holds my hand, squeezing hard as the weight of it all suddenly bears down on his shoulders. The crown is in his other hand. The crown he never really wanted.

  The royal advisors stand in front of the church in a state of slight disarray. Liam walks toward them, looking at stunned as everyone else.

  “We arrested the king,” a man keeps saying over and over.

  “He had no love from the people. You could put a crown on him tomorrow. It doesn’t mean shit if the whole country refuses to follow his commands.”

  “But he was coronated. We can’t just take it back.”

  Liam smirks at the old man. “Sure you can. Game of Thrones does it all the time. Also, I have this.”

  He digs into his pocket, unfolding the piece of paper, the will signed by the late king. Then he tears it in half. Several shocked gasps follow. He folds it into halves and tears it again and keeps ripping until the squares are too small to rip up again. Then he throws them on the steps of the church.

  “If you believe Lucian would make a better king than I, please feel free to stop me.”

  And he marches up the steps of the church, holding my hand.

  The church is largely empty, except for a priest waiting at the altar, his lips stretched in a grim smile. Liam waves off the priest’s aides as they approach him with ceremonial robes.

  “I don’t want any fuss. Let’s just get this over with so I can unfuck what my brother has done. Please excuse my language, Father.” He hands the crown to the dumbfounded priest.

  “I have sworn in many members of your family, but never twice in the same day,” the priest says.

  “The prince has our full support,” one of the advisors calls out from the back of the church.

  The priest’s liver-spotted hands turn the crown over. “So be it. On your knees, Prince.” He turns toward an altar boy. “Fetch the queen’s crown.”

  I watch as Liam swears oath upon oath to the priest to protect the realm, to uphold its laws. It’s very similar to what they had me swear. The gravity of becoming king settles on his face as the priest sets the crown on his head. The altar boy returns with another, smaller crown. It’s similar to the princess crown, but somehow less playful and more mature.

  The king stands up to a smattering of applause and cheers, and I can’t get over how regal he looks with that crown, even though he’s dressed in slacks. Liam’s eyes meet mine, hard and determined, and I grab his hand.

  “Liam, I want to stay.”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

  “It’s my choice,” I say in a louder voice, the echo carrying across the cavernous church. “You don’t get to throw me out of the country just because you think that’s best for me.”

  “I know it is.”

  “Being away from you isn’t.” God, I hate the fact I’m doing this here as the priest and everyone else listens in, but I’ve got to say it. “I thought I’d never love another man again. I was wrong. I love you, and that’s worth the sacrifice of staying here. That’s worth everything.”

  His eyes blaze. “Everyone, leave us,” he says without looking away from me.

  The altar boy stops at his elbow, and Liam reluctantly takes the crown from its cushion. He lifts it to my head, and my heart pounds as though something magical will happen the moment it touches my hair, as though I’m signing a contract. It sits on my head as Liam’s fingers drop away, heavy but comfortable.

  “You win,” he says in a hushed voice that carries. “I can’t fight this anymore.”

  I claim his lips as he wraps an arm around my waist, invading my space with his body. He kisses me hard, sliding his hands down my back to touch my ass. I pull back, looking around the church. There’s nothing but rows of candles glowing softly, and the distant echoes of footsteps.

  “I’ve been dreaming about this.”

  It’s almost magical to hear the sound of his voice reverberating to the rafters. My blood p
ounds with my frantic heartbeat as I recognize that look.

  “What?”

  A smile staggers across his face. “Come here, my queen. I’m going to fuck you on this throne.”

  The way he says “my queen” sends a pleasant shiver through my spine. The priest is probably lurking out of sight, there’s no way we should do this, but the fact we shouldn’t makes my thighs clench, and the dirty bastard knows it.

  “I like Queen better than Princess.”

  He wraps his hands more fully around my ass, lifting up my dress and groaning when his cock hardens against my thigh. Liam moves backward, sitting on the delicate cushion of the ancient throne.

  “This thing looks like it’s from the twelfth century.”

  “Every king in Anglefell’s history has sat on this throne. You’re going to be the first queen to bless it.”

  He touches my chin as I lean forward, standing between his legs. Heat erupts over my chest the moment he kisses me. His belt slides through my hands as I unbuckle him. His gaze sparks with electricity when I unzip his slacks. The sound of them hitting the floor and the sight of his thick cock rising between his legs make my heart jump. He shoves his tongue inside my mouth, and I play with him for a moment before pulling away to fall to my knees in front of him.

  “You’ll be the first king to get a blowjob on this throne.”

  He smirks. “Oh, I doubt I’m the first.”

  The cockiness disappears from his face when my lips touch his head. He flexes the muscle that makes him jump. My tongue darts out to taste him, and I feel the heat of his blood pounding into my mouth. I pucker my lips, teasing.

  I sit back on my heels as I strip the dress from my body. The pile of clothes lands next to his slacks. My skin tingles with his stare, which follows me as I stand up. I feel his gaze licking my tits and ass. Then I bend forward, and he hooks a finger in my panties, pulling them down my legs. I peel them off my heels and then kneel back down.

  Liam fingers the crown on my head as I take his cock in my hand and swirl my tongue around his bulbous head. His sharp hiss cuts the silent air when I take him in my mouth. I lean over the throne, my other hand grabbing his thigh as his thickness moves down my throat.

  “That’s right. Suck my royal scepter.”

  I laugh with him in my mouth, the sound buzzing around him.

  He tilts his head back, his eyes rolling in his head as I suck his cock. The sounds of my sloppy blowjob echo in this church as though to amplify our sins. I watch as he slips his phone out of his jacket, pointing it toward me.

  “I need to take a picture of my queen sucking my cock.”

  I lean back, my lips tightening over his skin as he pops out of my mouth. “This is not going on Instagram.”

  “I should,” he says with a throaty growl. “Part of me wants to show you off, but no. This is just for me.”

  I play with his cock, my lips sliding around his head, moving down his length as Liam’s eyes flutter. He jumps in my mouth as I take his head inside, flicking my tongue across him. I hear his phone snapping photos as he slides down my throat and anchors deep, his fingers digging into the back of my head. He meets my lips in short thrusts, digging deep. My pussy tingles with every moan that rips out of his mouth as he forces his cock down my throat.

  I pull back to breathe, but Liam yanks me with both of his hands on my head. His hips move, making me gag, and then I feel him swell. There’s a rush of heat under my tongue, and then I taste his cum. He uses my mouth, pumping as I swallow him. I tighten my lips around him as my pussy clenches, my core growing hot with need.

  “I’m not done,” he says in a gritty voice that makes my pussy clench. “Climb on your king’s lap.”

  His cum slides down my throat as he pulls me away from his still-hard cock. I stand on shaky feet, heart pounding as Liam takes my waist and spins me around so I’m facing the church. His hands are hot on my waist. His cock touches me, and that’s enough to send a jolt of pleasure through my body. So I drop down, watching his cock sink into me as though it’s happening to another person. Jesus, he’s so big. I widen my hips as I feel my walls expand, and then suddenly my thighs touch his, and he holds my waist down, grinding his cock inside me.

  A loud groan escapes my mouth before Liam covers it, inserting a finger. His chest warms my back as he leans forward.

  “Ride my cock. I want to feel your tits bouncing in my hands.”

  I raise my hips, feeling that horrible, vacant emptiness, and then I sink down. His arm wraps tight around my waist as though reluctant to let me go, but then he pulls back when I reach the top, my ass slapping his thighs. I suck his finger as he grabs one of my tits, and then I’m shamelessly fucking him, bouncing on his cock as my pussy throbs for more friction. His thrusts rock through me, stealing my breath in huge gasps. He kisses my neck, and suddenly his phone is back in his hand. I see the lurid image of my naked body riding the king’s cock as he drags his tongue on my neck and sticks his finger in my mouth. Fucking. Hot.

  “Good fucking God.”

  His arm wraps around my waist, his hand dropping from my mouth to grab my opposite shoulder as he fucks me as hard as he can. Every inch of his cock batters me, the throne squeaking in protest. The breath knocks right out of my chest with every slamming thrust. The church bounces in front of me until Liam bends my neck over his shoulder, and then I’m looking into the arched dome of the ceiling. I clench around his thickness as blood roars in my ears, almost drowning out the sound of his breathing, which deepens suddenly.

  Heat touches my pussy as his greedy hand presses down, rubbing my clit. He bites my neck as his breathing stalls, and then he releases in a huge groan. He thrusts deep, pinching my clit as energy shakes loose from the ball of nerves. It explodes outward as he fills me with his hot cum, and then I’m sagging into his chest, crying into the silent church with the unmistakable moan of an orgasm. He claps a hand over my mouth, cutting the sound off abruptly as he laughs softly in my ear.

  “I can’t believe we did this,” I say when he removes his hand.

  “Is it really that much of a shock?”

  Not really.

  I remove the crown from my head, strands of hair clinging to it. It sits in my lap as I lean against his chest, feeling his heart beat against my back as my body melts into his. Liam brushes the hair from my eyes as he gives my cheek a kiss that makes my chest glow with heat.

  “They’ll have to come up with a new nickname for you. You’re no longer the Dirty Prince.”

  “Filthy King? Dirty Royal?”

  “Maybe something a little less derivative.”

  “Pussy King.”

  My laugh echoes throughout the church. I laugh so hard I forget to breathe, until there are tears burning the corners of my eyes. Liam wipes them away, his lips twitching. Then he kisses me again, and joy balls in my chest like a glowing orb, giving warmth to the rest of my body.

  Pussy King.

  I laugh into his mouth mid-kiss.

  Lucian’s Prison Interview: FORMER PRINCE TELLS ALL!

  Liam

  “I’m here to see the prisoner.”

  That’s what I call him these days, and the title seems apt for a man stripped of his identity. He’s no longer a prince. He is no longer the heir to a fortune. He’s no longer the third-time winner of the Most Charming Smile Award for Royal Exposé.

  The guards at St. Augustine Penitentiary stand aside as they open the door and allow me inside the cellblock. It’s full of half-starved inmates transferred from the hard labor camp, which was demolished weeks ago. Many of them were convicted for ludicrous reasons that I’ll have to sort through in the next few months. My father sentenced people to hard labor for everything from altering his image on government-issued bills and coins to illegal hunting in Harronvale forest.

  The prisoners shout indistinct nonsense as I walk down the row of cells, which are small but clean and furnished with basic necessities. My chest tightens when I pass a lone figure hunched over i
n his cell, his straw-like, blond hair in tatters around his neck. He lifts his head, sunken eyes staring at me above a full beard. It’s hard to think of him as the boy who used to help me catch tadpoles in rivers, and even less as the repugnant man he grew up to become.

  Lucian stands from the bed, his eyes bloodshot. He walks to the bars and grasps them like a monkey rattling his cage.

  “Get me out of here.”

  “Sorry, brother. Can’t do that.”

  “Look at me!”

  I look at him. “I don’t see anything wrong with you except a marginal decrease in personal hygiene.”

  “I can’t fucking shave with these disposable razors. Look at my fingers, for God’s sake!”

  “Honestly, did you think you’d be able to get manicures in prison?”

  The bars rattle violently as he rams his palm against the cell. “This isn’t fair!”

  “You committed several crimes. Do you want me to start listing them? You should be grateful to me for dropping the regicide charges.”

  “I did what was necessary to secure my position, and you stole it from me.” His fingers whiten around the bars. “Our father wanted me to be king, not you.”

  “The problem is literally no one else wanted that.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Lucian throws me a vicious glare as he walks away from the cell door.

  The throne was forced on my shoulders. It was never something I wanted. I was resigned to the position just like I was resigned to the fact I would have to marry some high-society girl I’d have nothing in common with.

  “Why the fuck are you even here?”

  “I’m here to remind you that you are not allowed to give interviews to the press, and if you don’t want an even steeper sentence, you’ll hold off on providing colorful headlines for Royal Exposé.”

  He sneers. “Did you like the article?”

  “I admit I laughed at your description of me as a ‘dim-witted troll.’”

  Lucian tosses his head back, laughing, and for a moment I almost forget he swung a sword at my wife. That image still haunts me. Sure, he was a meddlesome prick, but I never thought he was capable of seriously hurting someone. If Daisy hadn’t kicked him in the balls… I push that chilling thought aside.