by Jessica Ashe
“These people? Oh God, I’ve created a monster.”
“A monster with sore feet. Now do the other one please.”
I took hold of Sophia’s other foot and squeezed the heel with my thumbs. Would it be completely wrong to kiss her feet? And then her calves? And then work up her thighs until I could taste the sweet goodness between her legs?
“You know, I’m getting rather uncomfortable in this dress as well,” Sophia said softly.
“You want to go to bed now?”
“No. I just want you to get me out of this dress.”
Chapter Seventeen
Sophia
I should have taken a picture of this moment. George looked lost for words. How often did that happen?
He snapped out of his trance when his phone vibrated aggressively in his pocket.
“Shit.” He pulled the phone out and went to throw it on the chair until he saw who the message was from.
I saw the name too; Tabitha. The woman he’d been speaking to after our wedding. The woman he loved. An undeniable feeling of jealousy washed over me every time I thought about that moment. I dealt with it by trying not to think about. Perhaps that wasn’t a great long-term solution, but it would do for now.
It had almost worked. I’d barely thought about Tabatha at all tonight. Thoughts of her were buried so deep in the back of my mind, that I’d been about to give in and sleep with George. He clearly wanted to, and didn’t seem to feel guilty about betraying this other woman. What did that say about him?
George typed out a quick reply, and turned his phone off. “Sorry about that. No more interruptions.”
It was too late for that. The moment had passed.
“Who is she?” I asked. I knew I sounded like a crazy, jealous girlfriend, but we were married, and I’d been about to screw him. I was entitled to ask about this other woman he loved and was messaging while he was with me.
“Just someone asking me about the big dinner,” George replied. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s pick up where we left off.”
“You’re in love with her.”
“Huh?”
“I heard you.” I hadn’t been spying on him. No point pretending I hadn’t heard. “You spoke to her just after we got married, and you told her you loved her.”
“Oh. Well, yes, I suppose that’s true.”
“You ‘suppose’ you’re in love with someone else?”
We both knew what I’d left unsaid. Why couldn’t he love someone else? He wasn’t in love with me, and I wasn’t in love with him. We might be married, but I didn’t have any claim to him.
“I’m not ‘in love’ with her. That just sounds weird.”
“What do you mean… oh,” I trailed off, as I realized who the woman must have been. If the thought of being in love with someone was ‘weird,’ then it likely meant said person was either a very close friend, or a family member. “Cousin?” I asked.
“Close. Sister.”
“You have a sister?”
“Yep.”
“And don’t you think you should have mentioned that before now?” I asked.
“We’ve never really discussed family. It’s not like I know a lot about yours.”
“Yes, but my family tree doesn’t include a claim to the throne of the United Kingdom.”
“It does now. Anyway, Tabitha doesn’t have a claim. She was born a few years after my Mom’s marriage to the King ended, and she has a different father. She also lives in the States, actually.”
We hadn’t spoken much about family because I cried every time I tried to talk about my mother. I didn’t have any other family to speak of, but it had never bothered me before. My friends had all been more important to me. Then they’d betrayed me.
“Are you close?” I asked.
“Yes,” George replied. “Very. In fact…”
“In fact?”
“I should have told you all this sooner.”
“This isn’t filling me with confidence, George.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” George took a deep breath and sat back down on the chair. I didn’t speak; he suddenly looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. His usually strong frame, now slumped down as if he’d given up the fight. “I lied to you.”
My heart skipped a beat, and then made up for the loss by pounding away in my chest at twice the speed. Now it was my turn to sit back down; better that than faint.
“What did you lie about?”
“The reason I’m doing all this,” came the reply. “The reason I asked you to marry me, and the reason I want to claim my inheritance.”
George reached out and placed his hand on mine, but I pushed his away and pulled mine out of reach. Our marriage hadn’t exactly been under the most romantic of circumstances, but that made the lie hurt even more. I’d told him the truth about needing a visa. What could be worse than wanting to marry me just to claim a load of money and live like a playboy?
I might not want the answer to that question; I asked anyway.
“Tell me,” I insisted. “We need to be completely honest with each other. I’m pretty sure that was in the vows.”
“My sister, she’s… not well. Neither is my nephew, her son.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
I sounded cold and callous grilling him on the topic of his sick family members. Maybe I was like my mother after all?
“They were in an accident a few years ago. Actually, you know what, fuck that, it wasn’t an accident. They were hit by a car. A car driven at them deliberately by her ex-boyfriend. It’s fucked up.”
“Oh my God.” I quickly reached out and placed my hand on his just like George had tried to do to me earlier. “I’m so sorry.”
“They’re okay,” George said, squeezing my hand. “Well, they’re not completely okay, obviously, but they’re not on death’s door or anything either.”
“You need the money to look after them?” I asked.
“Yeah. They’re both undergoing physical therapy, and as you may know, your country doesn’t believe in providing medical care without it being accompanied by a fucking huge invoice.”
“I had noticed. I’m almost tempted to have an accident while I’m here just to make use of the NHS.”
George smiled and squeezed my hand more tightly. “I should have told you.”
“Yes, you should have. I’ve been imagining you living like a player on your new fortune. I feel bad for your sister and nephew, but I’d rather the money go to them than bottles of champagne and loose women.”
George laughed out loud and pulled me up out of my seat and flying onto his lap. “I don’t actually like champagne, and I’m hoping to just live it up with one loose woman for the time being.”
“I am not loose,” I insisted.
“You’re assuming I’m talking about you.”
“You’d better be,” I replied.
George laughed again, but this time the laugh stopped quickly. He reached up and held the back of my neck, before bringing me down towards him for a kiss.
Chapter Eighteen
Sophia
I kissed him back passionately. I think that took him by surprise almost as much as it did me. We both expected me to put up a fight, or make things awkward, but I couldn’t. The incessant throbbing between my legs had become too much to resist; if I didn’t act on it now, I’d end up going insane.
Our bodies melted together as our tongues clashed in my mouth and George’s cock pressed up against my waist. His scent filled my nose, while his touch awoke my body. I was totally, utterly, and completely lost in the moment. We were in a royal residence, but we could have been anywhere right now. I wouldn’t have cared if we were in a bus shelter with an audience. Nothing could have spoiled this moment.
George guided me towards the bed, and then pushed me away from him the second the foot of the bed brushed against my knees. I fell backwards, but immediately propped myself back up onto my elbows to check out the view.
>
For a few moments, George just stood there looking down at me from the foot of the bed, as if he might change his mind at any moment. Then he reached up to the top of his shirt and slowly started undoing the buttons.
I’d never seen his chest. It sounded ridiculous, but I’d never seen my husband’s chest. There was plenty of him I’d never seen, but his chest was all I could focus on right now.
His shirt opened and fell to the floor. I heard the sound of his belt buckle opening, but I didn’t look down; I couldn’t take my eyes off his chest. I could swear it was staring back at me. The firm pecs—tattoos encroaching on them from his shoulders—seemed to be eying me up, challenging me to look away. I couldn’t do it. I had to take it all in, committing it to memory as if I would later have to draw it for a police sketch. He had more contours and ridges than a fingerprint, and I was willing to bet good money that this body was one-hundred-percent unique.
I hadn’t even noticed how wet I was getting between my burning thighs, but when George dropped his pants—taking his boxers with them—I finally had a reason to look away from his chest.
“Damn,” I muttered, as I watched his cock quickly grow hard in front of me.
“That’s a common reaction,” he replied with a grin.
I sat up and wrapped my hands around the shaft, stroking slowly, as if experimenting with something new and foreign. Size-wise, it most definitely was new. I’d seen my share of cocks, but this one was something else. It throbbed in my palm, as I moved my hand up to the head and squeezed gently, eking out a bit of cum from the tip.
There was no way a girl could resist that.
I moved my head towards his shaft and opened wide to take him into my hot, wet mouth. I breathed deeply through my nose, before sliding my lips down the smooth skin of his cock. His member pulsed in my mouth, ready to explode.
“Sophia,” George moaned deeply, as my lips got as far down his shaft as they were going to. I’d always been proud of my gag reflex—or lack of it—but there was only so much room in my mouth and throat.
He clasped my head with both of his hands and held it in position with my lips most of the way down his cock. I concentrated on breathing through my nose, while he slowly pushed his cock deeper down my throat. I expected him to empty himself inside me at any second, but instead he pulled all the way out, leaving a trail of saliva from my lips to the tip of his cock.
“It’s impossible to control myself around you,” George said through deep breaths. He unzipped the back of my dress, and then moved up on the bed, dragging me up with him until my head was resting on the pillow.
I closed my eyes and tried to calm my nerves as George pulled my dress off and threw it to the floor. I couldn’t see anything, but I could feel his eyes on me as I lay there in just my bra and panties. His body was so perfect, sculpted, literally like a work of art. Mine was… normal. I was young enough that my breasts still pointed up, and I was slim, but I didn’t have a lot else going for me. There were freckles, and soft bits that wouldn’t disappear no matter how many sit ups I did in front of the television.
“You’re stunning,” George said softly.
I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He was staring down at me with a genuine look of desire on his face. I wasn’t stunning, but George seemed to think so, and that was just fine with me.
He leaned down and kissed me on the lips, his hard cock pressing eagerly against my belly. A hand went under my back and unclasped my bra, quickly whipping it off in one smooth motion.
The second my breasts were free, his mouth dived onto a nipple, covering it with his warm lips, and flicking against it with his tongue. This time it was my turn to hold his head and keep him close to me.
“Oh, George,” I moaned as he bit down gently on my erect nipple. His hand slid down my stomach towards my panties which were getting wetter and wetter with every second my nipple was in his mouth.
His fingers pressed against my sex from the outside of the soaking wet cotton between my legs. I tried to pull his head up to mine—desperate to get his body on top of me—but he resisted and instead headed in the other direction.
His lips kissed my skin as his mouth made its way slowly down to my underwear. Each kiss sent jolts through my body, and left behind a fire on my skin, until finally George crawled between my legs, and hooked his fingers under my panties.
They came off in a blur, and suddenly my wet sex was exposed to George. He looked down between my legs with hunger filling his eyes. I needed him to devour me and I couldn’t wait any longer. I hooked my legs around him and pulled his body down between his legs.
“You’re not the patient type, are you?” he asked.
“Are you?”
“Good point.”
George’s mouth kissed the insides of my quivering thighs as he slowly made his way down to my wet slit. The second his tongue touched my sex, the built-up anticipation washed over me and left me gasping for breath on the bed.
I looked down between my legs; our eyes met briefly before George sent his tongue darting out to my swollen clit.
My head snapped back and my eyes closed shut as George ate me with a furious intensity. My hands gripped the covers, but nothing I did could keep the pleasure at bay. My hips rocked furiously against his mouth as he slipped his tongue into my entrance, groaning with pleasure as he ate me.
“You taste so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, his tongue coming out and sliding back up to my clit.
I cried out in pleasure, although I don’t think any of the sounds formed actual words. They were just noises that had to come out.
I kept squirming under the expert touch of his tongue, but his hands clasped my hips firmly, so that his tongue never left my wetness. Every movement of his tongue sent shock waves throughout my body until I was finally ready to let go and surrender.
Then he stopped.
His mouth left my sex, and suddenly my world felt empty.
“Bad timing,” I gasped, as I lay shaking on the bed. I’d been right on the edge and but didn’t go over.
“Perfect timing,” he replied from the side of the bed. He must have dug a condom out of his pocket, because he came back to the bed with his cock sheathed and ready to go. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
George climbed on top and kissed me deeply, letting me taste the sweetness that covered his mouth and chin. His cock moved close to my entrance, but he let it stay there just out of reach as we embraced and kissed.
I’d been excited by the size of his manhood, but now I realized that somehow he was going to have to squeeze that thing inside me. The prospect had me equal parts nervous and excited, but the increasing wetness between my thighs made it clear that my excitement would win the battle in my mind.
I wrapped my legs around George and slowly pushed him into me, encouraging him to enter and finish what he’d started. He guided his huge length to my opening and then pushed forward slowly as he filled me inch by glorious, pulsating inch.
He looked into my eyes as he rocked his hips on top of me. The gasps of discomfort at his size quickly turned into whimpers of joy, as my sex flooded with pleasure at every movement of his cock inside me.
George was holding back. I wanted him to let go and lose himself in my sex, but I was in no position to give any commands. All I could do was lay there, squirming and moaning, as his cock warmed my insides and spread fire throughout my body.
“Keep going,” I murmured.
“You’re so tight,” he moaned, as his cock slid deep into me. “I don’t know how long I can last.”
The muscles in my sex clenched hold of his pulsating cock, as if it never wanted to let go. I leaned back into the pillow and cried out, losing myself completely in the moment, as his cock finally sent me over the edge that I’d been teetering on since he kissed me. Hell, I’d been waiting for this since we first met.
George shook and groaned deeply, as his cock throbbed and then emptied inside me. We kissed again, before he ro
lled to one side and we lay next to each other, breathless, on the large four-poster bed.
As first times with a new guy went, doing it in a royal residence was right up there. It certainly beat my first time with Stan in more ways than one.
The sound of creaking floorboards came from outside the room as servants shuffled around tidying up and getting the house prepared for the morning.
“Do you think they heard us?” I asked George nervously.
“I don’t think so. But they might hear the next time.”
“Next t—” My words got lost in my throat as George pressed his lips up against mine and brought me in towards him. His cock wasn’t just huge—it was insatiable.
Chapter Nineteen
George
Neither of us could go home. My apartment building was continually surrounded by reporters, cameras, and television crews, while Sophia’s had become almost like a shrine for young girls in the area who wanted to see where the princess had been living when she met her prince.
We booked a long term stay in a London hotel under assumed names, and acquired entirely new wardrobes to save the hassle of moving. Ellie and Dani had come in use again on that front, by bringing some of the essentials from our apartments to the hotel.
“Was this how you envisioned your honeymoon?” I asked my wife, as she lay on the bed knocking back chocolates that had been one of the many gifts we’d had shoved into our hands over the past few days.
“Stan and I were supposed to spend two weeks in Barbados, soaking up the sun on the beach and swimming in the clear blue seas.”
“So that’s a ‘no’ then?”
“I burn easily, and I hate beaches. The sand gets everywhere. I’m also an awful swimmer. I’m happy here with you.”
“What type of grand holiday would you like to go on? Walking the Great Wall of China? Hiking? Skiing?”
