When Fangirls Cry

by Marian Tee

  Staffan knocked on her dressing room, so she asked him to come in. “What is it?”

  He was holding two boxes, one immensely larger than the other. The first one contained a beautiful gold collar-styled necklace with a beautiful star-shaped sapphire pendant. She blinked back tears at its exquisiteness. “Oh my God, it’s gorgeous.” She tried to think of something better to say – something that would be befitting of someone who graduated years too early from high school. But nothing came to mind. All she could do was shake her head and gaze at it.

  “W-where did you find it?”

  Staffan was already lifting her hair up. “I had it customized,” he told her absently as he grabbed one of her elastic bands and used it to twist her hair up. He did it expertly now, after a few hours of practice when she had her nails freshly painted and she wanted to take a bath without getting her newly curled hair wet.

  The memory made her smile, and when her gaze met his reflection on the mirror, Staffan had a look of exasperation on his face. “I’m beginning to think all of this is an elaborate plan to turn me into the adult version of Justin Bieber.”

  She grinned, but her eyes started to water again when, after her hair was secured on top of her head, Staffan was slowly putting the collared-necklace around her neck. She touched it gingerly, unable to take her gaze off it.

  Snap.

  Saffi gasped. “Staffan!”

  “It’s my turn to tweet like fucking crazy about my wife.”

  Her phone buzzed the moment he finished typing on his screen. Staffan had taken a side-view photo of her, with a caption that made her sigh.

  My one-week anniversary gift for MY fangirl

  “Hormones,” was all she could say before bawling like crazy.

  Used to her mood swings by now, Staffan only chuckled and lifted her up so he could take the seat and place her on his lap. She immediately snuggled up to him. Both their phones buzzed, indicating messages and responses to the tweet. Staffan and Saffi ignored it. Both of them had also decided without ever speaking about it not to listen, see, or even know what the rest of the world had to say about them.

  Listening to Staffan’s heartbeat, she dimly heard the continuous buzzing of her phone. A glass bubble, Saffi thought and her fingers curled around his chest reflexively. Fear kicked in even though she did her best not to show it, her other hand moving down to act as a shield for her baby.

  Their life would remain perfectly blissful as long as they stayed within their glass bubble. But she knew from experience that glass bubbles couldn’t last forever…and that they were never meant to.

  “I have another gift I need you to wear,” Staffan murmured against Saffi’s hair.

  She stirred, raising herself up to look at him with a mixture of curiosity and childish excitement. “What is it?”

  “I’ll show you later, when you’re fully dressed.”

  She frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Those are my rules, baby.” He lifted her from his lap and gently lowered Saffi to her feet. “Now, go.”

  He laughed when Saffi got dressed in record time. He was in the process of buttoning his silk shirt when Saffi appeared at the doorway, dressed in a tight-fitting white dress that made a wonderful contrast with his necklace.

  He studied her slowly, looking at her from head to toe.

  She was breathless by the time his gaze returned to her face, the look in his eyes too hot to handle. “Well? What’s my other gift?”

  He crooked a finger and she nearly danced towards him, making Staffan smile. He took the box from the bedside table and opened it.

  Saffi’s jaw dropped open.

  By the time she recovered, he had already crouched down and was making sure it was a perfect fit.

  ****

  Saffi was the shyest girl in the world by the time she arrived at her father’s fundraising dinner while Staffan looked like he was the king in his. The contrast in their expressions and actions created an uproar on the web, with millions of users tweeting about what in the world could have made Staffan Aehrenthal look like he had won all the awards in the VMAs.

  Seeing question after question about it, Saffi wanted to run away and hide. She so desperately hoped they would never ever guess why Staffan was strolling around like he wasn’t just Sweden’s #1 Sex God. Oh no, the way he was practically smoldering with such earthy appeal – his fuck-me hazel eyes so bright, the arrogant tilt of his head as he gazed challengingly at other people, and the way his black-and-white suit showed off his superbly muscular form to perfection---

  He was the sex god.

  And even his friends noticed it.

  “Hello, Saffi,” Constantijin murmured gently as he kissed her cheek. There was nothing but amusement in his silver eyes as he stepped back and looked at her gravely, saying, “You’ve done something bad.”

  Yanna sounded just as serious even as her own eyes twinkled when she gave Saffi a quick warm hug. “It’s true.”

  “Unfortunately,” Rathe Wellesley drawled in that coldly charming duke-like voice of his, “I must agree.” He gazed at Staffan, saying mockingly, “You did the unthinkable, my dear. You made this extremely arrogant man even more arrogant.”

  The breath swooshed out of Saffi as she realized that they were all just joking.

  Staffan’s friends laughed at her expression of relief.

  Yanna started to say something, but Constantijin quickly intercepted it with a swift, hard, but terribly sweet kiss on her lips. When he lifted his head, Yanna could only sigh. She opened her mouth, Constantijin raised a brow, and she sighed again. She looked at Staffan wryly.

  Staffan understood the exchange. Yanna had been harping on him every day about clearing the air between him and Saffi, but he just wasn’t fucking ready. Constantijin knew it and he was putting his foot down about it tonight.

  He nodded his thanks to Constantijin. Tonight just wasn’t a good night to talk about the past. Maybe, he acknowledged to himself, there wasn’t any good time to ever talk about it and he was beginning to be fine about that.

  They entered the ballroom together, where Saffi’s parents were waiting near the entrance, personally greeting each guest. Saffi quickly embraced her parents one at a time when it was their turn. She quickly but proudly introduced Staffan’s friends one at a time as well, and the senator and his wife made small talk with the trio.

  Staffan was the last in the group to greet the pair. He hid his ringless finger inside his pocket so that Pearl wouldn’t notice anything, but one look at the senator’s face and Staffan knew he hadn’t been quick enough.

  The seating arrangements were pre-selected, and since Saffi was part of the host’s family, they were unable to share a table with the other Pussketeers. Instead, Staffan found the both of them seated across some of the most priggish couples he had ever met.

  He wasn’t much for politics, but even he recognized the first pair as Congressman Whitley and his wife Janet, both of them Republicans for generations and so conservative that they had been campaigning to ban the use of cuss words in public. The other couple could trace their lineage all the way back to Mayfair – the kind who looked down upon nouveau riche like Staffan – even if he was easily a hundred times wealthier than they were.

  “Be nice,” Saffi pleaded under her breath in Swedish.

  “Of course, baby,” he said obediently and sought to deliberately charm the two couples. He didn’t pander – that would never be possible for someone as proud as Staffan was – but he knew the right buttons to push in order to keep the women flattered and prevent the men from feeling insecure in his presence.

  Saffi could only listen in awe as Staffan suavely discussed religion and politics with Congressman Whitley while engaging the other couple in conversation about the various ways they could improve the returns of their trust funds.

  And throughout the first and second appetizers, he had not even uttered a single ‘fuck’. Not one!

  When the waiters started to
serve the main course and Staffan paused for breath, Saffi turned to him. It was the opportunity he was waiting for. He slid one hand into his pocket and switched the clitoral vibrator on.

  Saffi froze, her now-large eyes jerking up to meet his in utter horror. The vibrator worked silently, its steady vibration gently stimulating her clit.

  “Do you have something to say, baby?” She started to speak, but Staffan pushed another button to set the vibrator to medium speed.

  Saffi closed her mouth. All she could do was glare at Staffan as the vibrator buzzed even more powerfully against her clitoris, stimulating every inch of it until she had to grip her skirt tightly. She so badly wanted to spread her legs wide open, as if by doing so she could relieve the tension, but the tight-fitting form of her dress prevented her from doing so, and all Saffi could do was take deep gulping breaths.

  “Are you all right, Sapphire?” Mrs. Whitley asked in concern.

  Saffi managed a wan smile and then jerked when Staffan set the vibrator to high speed. She could feel the difference – easily – and it made Saffi want to scream.

  Mrs. Whitley’s eyes widened in understanding and she exclaimed, “Is it your baby? You’re in your first or second trimester, aren’t you? Even if you’re done with the morning sickness, it can still come back.”

  “Oh, yes,” chimed Meredith Samuels from Saffi’s right. “I was like that when I was pregnant with my first child.” She exchanged fond glances with her husband. “Remember how I had to, you know, every five minutes?”

  “Yes, I remember you know.”

  Even Staffan had to laugh at Carlton’s dry answer. He had been stunned to realize that the couples before him could be actually fun to be with – he just needed to give them a chance. They all needed to give themselves a chance to get past the stereotypes.

  But as much fun as they were, there was nothing as fun and as fucking erotic as having Saffi crazy with need for him. She was trembling badly in her seat and her blue eyes were pleading with him. The need there spiked his and Staffan cleared his throat, saying a bit unevenly, “I think I should take her outside. She might need a breath of fresh air.”

  “There’s a powder room down the hallway to your right. It has an adjoining balcony,” Meredith said helpfully.

  That sounded fucking perfect.

  “Thank you,” Staffan said with sincere gratitude and then he was swiftly taking Saffi out of the ballroom, doing his best to keep their pace even so as not to draw attention – especially from her brothers, who had just arrived at the venue.

  “I can’t…believe…you’re doing this…to me!” Saffi panted out each word, her nails digging into his skin.

  “I honestly can’t fucking believe how hot it is to see you so turned on for me in front of everyone,” Staffan returned under his breath.

  His words just made Saffi whimper. “Hurry…please!”

  “I’m doing the fucking best---ah. There.” He nearly kicked the powder room open and then locked it behind him. Saffi was sobbing now, and the sound was making his fingers shake. “Dammit, Saffi, stop making such sexy noises!”

  “I can’t…stop!” She was sobbing and moaning at the same time, writhing as she impatiently waited for Staffan to unzip her from the tight confines of her dress. She swayed on her feet when the dress finally dropped to a pool at her feet.

  He carried her up in his arms, causing Saffi to press her legs together. It intensified the vibrations against her clit and Saffi let out another sob.

  Staffan shuddered at the sound. “Ah, shit, Saffi, I don’t think I’ll last…”

  “Don’t last,” she begged. “I need to come now, please, Staffan---”

  He covered her lips so she wouldn’t fucking talk and arouse him even more. She kissed him back hungrily as he lowered her on the couch. “Wait,” he managed to say when she protested his attempt to pull away.

  “I need to take it off,” he growled.

  Her legs fell wide open like a beautiful clam revealing a pearl, and Staffan nearly lost his mind at the sight. Ah, shit. He was so fucking close. His hands shook as he gently switched the vibrator off and pulled it out.

  The moment she was free, Saffi quickly pulled him down to her.

  “Now,” she breathed into his ear.

  Ah, shit – he had never moved so fast in his life, unzipping his dick and pounding into her in a matter of seconds. Her legs twisted around his hips as he braced himself on one arm and fucked Saffi fast and hard while making sure he didn’t have her body shaking too hard that it would endanger the baby.

  He tried his best to be gentler, but Saffi shook her head. “More, Staffan,” she begged, and he lost it after that. He drove as hard as he could into her, making every thrust more heart-pounding, more all-encompassing in its possession. And when she started to scream, her body jerking as her climax came, Staffan bent down to absorb her screams into his mouth. He kissed her, sucking on her tongue and when she sucked on his, his own orgasm exploded. He growled against Saffi’s mouth, and her arms tightened around his.

  “Come harder,” she whispered.

  And he fucking came as hard as he could, wanting to give it all to her.

  Ten minutes later, the couples at their table looked at them expectantly as they returned to their seats. “Much better, dear?” Mrs. Whitley asked in concern.

  “Much, much, better,” she mumbled, managing a smile even as Staffan’s shoulders rocked with silent laughter beside her.

  Meredith beamed. “What’s so funny?”

  Saffi didn’t dare trust Staffan to give a safe answer. As he opened his mouth, she said hurriedly, “I almost threw up on him, that’s all.”

  “Oh. That was close.” Congressman Whitley and Carlton both gave him a sympathetic look.

  It should have been the perfect ending to their night, and it would have been until there was a commotion near the door. There was a lot of shouting – and one of those voices belonged to Silver March. Saffi started in her seat.

  “I’ll check,” he told her. “Stay here.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “That’s my family. I need to go and see what’s happening.” She glanced at the other couples. “I’m so sorry---”

  “It’s okay, dear,” Congressman Whitley said.

  Staffan kept her close to his side as they walked towards the source of the furor. A crowd was growing, and he suddenly had a bad feeling about all of it. At the sight of him, the people moved, parting just enough for Staffan and Saffi to move forward.

  She stumbled to a stop in front of him and Staffan immediately cupped her elbow to keep Saffi up. He followed her gaze and stiffened at the sight of the prince. In front of him was a red-faced blustering mayor, one who was extremely well known for his rather racist remarks against anyone with Middle Eastern blood – like Jeremy Al-Atassi.

  Silver was visibly struggling to hold on to his temper as his older brother smoothed things over, his tone commanding as he requested the mayor to leave.

  “You will never get my city’s votes,” the mayor roared, wagging a fist at the March brothers.

  Silver moved as if to strike the other man down, and the mayor immediately cowered, fear turning his face into a bloodless mask.

  “Silver,” Pearl said sharply from behind, and her youngest son slowly lowered his fist. The senator murmured something to Steel, who commanded the security personnel around them to escort the mayor out.

  Amidst the shouts of the mayor as he was dragged to the exit, Pearl said with a strained smile, “Please excuse this. It was a simple misunderstanding. Enjoy the rest of the night.”

  But no one moved, all eyes trained on the silent prince.

  Saffi suddenly stiffened before him, and Staffan heard her inhale deeply. His hold around her elbow tightened as he realized that Saffi and the fucking prince were looking at each other.

  Coldness enveloped Staffan. “Don’t.” The harshly whispered word was torn from his heart. He said in Swedish, “Don’t fucking go to him. Don’t ac
t like you fucking know him.” He was close to begging, and Staffan hated it even as he knew he couldn’t help it.

  With every second that passed, Saffi’s gaze locked with the prince, Staffan felt Saffi drifting away from him.

  “Saffi---”

  She looked up at him brokenly. “Please understand, Staffan,’ she whispered. “I can’t…I can’t turn him away just like that.”

  Everyone’s gazes were on the prince and Saffi. Staffan felt them waiting and knew the mostly-Republican crowd was waiting for Saffi to reject the prince – was hoping Saffi would reject him because rumors had also been rife about the prince’s kingdom considering an alliance with the Palestine government.

  “Let your brother play the hero,” Staffan said coldly.

  Saffi’s lips trembled. “Staffan, please---”

  “It’s me…or him.” He saw Jeremy starting for them and knew the prince was going to force his hand.

  Saffi turned to look over her shoulder and paled at the realization that Jeremy was walking towards them.

  “Choose, Saffi. It’s me or him.”

  Staffan’s words made her head snap back towards him. “Then let’s just go,” she cried out impulsively. “Let’s just avoid him.”

  He gave one hard shake of his head. “No. Show him you are choosing me.”

  She gasped, the sound heartwrenching. “I can’t. Staffan, I can’t. That’s cruel---”

  He exploded, “And you think you’re not being fucking cruel, looking at him like he’s your fucking prince while I was the one with you all this time, the one who fucking stood by you while he courted his fucking princess? Do you think that just because we don’t fucking talk about it means I’ve fucking forgotten that you fucked him?”