Filthy Royal

by Roxeanne Rolling

  We walk her to her room, with Eugene insisting that we take her on some little detours to show her some of the Liserian royal bullshit displayed on the walls.

  She acts politely interested, but I can tell that medieval weapons aren’t exactly her thing. Fuck, who can blame her?

  “Wow,” she says, when we get into the grand hall, which is full of tapestries hanging on the walls, all the way up to the high, vaulted ceiling, where stained-glassed windows let light in during the day. “This is incredible.”

  “I guess it’s OK for an old pile of rocks.”

  “It’s sure pretty,” she says, gazing all around.

  “Come on,” I say, grabbing her around the waist. “Let’s show you to your royal accommodations.”

  She tucks her head down towards my shoulder and giggles into me. I love the feeling of her warm body against mine.

  Eugene helps install her in her room, giving her a brief little tour, showing her where the bathroom and closet are—that kind of stuff.

  “All right, Eugene,” I say, trying to hurry this up. I just can’t wait to…well, to get inside her. Fuck, I want her so bad. I’m pretty sure my erection is quite visible poking up through the dress pants I had to wear for the royal briefing, so I cross my hands in front of my crotch to hide it a little from Eugene. “I think she’s got it. I’ll handle it from here.”

  “Very good, sir,” says Eugene. “But remember, you’re both eating with the king and queen tomorrow for lunch. They’re very eager to meet you, Rebecca.”

  That’s a crock of shit if I’ve ever heard one. They technically need to meet with Rebecca since she’s a royal guest, but I know for sure that my dad at least isn’t excited about meeting her. My mom on the other hand has always had a slight fascination with all things American, so she very well might be excited to meet this American I’ve brought back home. That reminds me, I haven’t spoken to her since I got back—I’ve been too embarrassed to face her, given my antics that are well recorded in print for her and everyone else to see.

  “Goodnight, Eugene,” says Rebecca, sweetly, smiling at him.

  I close the door behind him, almost slamming it closed in my hasty excitement.

  “Finally,” I say.

  “He’s just trying to be helpful.”

  “I know, but I just can’t wait.”

  “Wait for what?” she says, giving me a wicked smile. She knows exactly what I mean.

  “To have you,” I say, my voice dropping a couple octaves involuntarily into a growl.

  She comes over to me and her hands are all over me. We’re not wasting any time this time. It’s only been a couple days but it’s been too fucking long.

  “It’s been too fucking long,” she says.

  “I was just thinking the same exact thing,” I say.

  Her hands are on my cock, gripping it tightly through my pants.

  My hands are on her hips. I spin her around, and bite her neck gently. She moans, and we walk together another foot towards the old stone wall made of big roughly hewn boulders.

  “I’ve never been fucked in a castle before,” she says, as she points her head up towards the ceiling slightly, arching her back, making her look sexier than ever.

  “Technically it’s a palace,” I say.

  “Same thing,” she says.

  I have to agree. I can’t remember what the difference is right now, and I sure as fuck don’t care.

  My hands are moving down her hips, and now I run them up under her dress, feeling her soft and muscular flesh beneath the dress.

  I find a nice juicy surprise when my hands get all the way up to her crotch.

  “No panties,” I say. “I fucking like it.”

  “I didn’t want to wear them,” she says.

  This doesn’t quite make sense right now but I think I get the gist. When I’m really turned on, I doubt I always make sense when I’m going for good dirty talk. I guess she’s the same way. I mean it’s not like I can expect her to hold a perfectly coherent conversation when I’m fucking her.

  “You wanted to be ready for me, is that it?” I whisper into her ear.

  “Yes,” she moans, as my hand comes around the front and starts massaging her lips. She’s already quite wet, and after a couple minutes of light touching, I penetrate her with one finger, using a knuckle to grind lightly into her clit.

  “That feels so good,” she says, moaning, her face inches away from the rock wall. Her breasts are just barely touching the wall.

  I’m conscious of not grinding up against her too hard, since I don’t want her to hurt herself against the rough wall.

  But I can’t contain my erection any more, and I drop by pants, letting them fall down around my knees, but not before getting a condom from my pocket and sliding it up and over my cock.

  “I need your cock,” she moans.

  “On it’s way,” I say, before realizing that’s kind of a dumb thing to say. Fuck it, though, I’m almost inside her.

  I can almost feel her around my cock before I get inside—that’s how much I’m longing and aching for her.

  My cock goes into her easily, and now she’s bracing herself against the wall with her hands so she won’t bump her body into it.

  I plunge into her hard and soon she’s moaning and demanding I fuck her harder and faster.

  I’m going into her faster than I ever have before, holding onto her hips as I’m trying to go faster and faster. Fuck, she feels so fucking good.

  Her dress is still on, but I’ve already gotten her tits out of the top, with her bra halfway off, and they stick entirely out of the dress, held up slightly by the dress’s fabric. I can just see the sides of them as I plunge into her from behind but fuck do they look hot. I wish I could touch them right now, but I’ve got to hold onto her hips to keep fucking her as fast as I am.

  I’m holding the skirt portion of her dress up with my hands, pinning it against her hips. Fuck does she look hot in this dress. There’s something incredibly sexy about her wearing such a prim and proper dress as I fuck her against this rough wall from behind.

  She starts moaning wildly as she comes, and an instant later I’m freezing, my cock buried deep inside her, my come bursting out of my cock and filling my condom.

  “Wow,” she says, turning around, my cock sliding out of her, and kissing me deeply and sloppily on the mouth. Her dress is completely disarranged, and her hair is wild looking. There’s a crazy sexy look in her eyes that shines at me.

  “That was so hot,” she says.

  “It was,” I say, pulling up my pants, and looking around for my shirt.

  “Aren’t you going to stay and cuddle with me?”

  “Fuck, I’d really like to. But you don’t know how strict they’re being with me right now. I’m lucky I could steal away from this long. They’re watching my every move right now.” It’s fucking true, unfortunately. I’d like nothing more than to just continue to fuck her throughout the night, and sure, some cuddling in between wouldn’t be bad either.

  She looks upset.

  “You’re not bad, are you?” I say. “I’m sorry, but things are pretty fucked up and weird around here in the palace, especially right now, with the fallout from my American trip.”

  “No, it’s OK,” she says, but her eyes look sad.

  “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow, OK? I’ll show you around the palace during the daylight.”

  “OK,” she says, and we kiss goodnight, but I sense some sadness lingering around her.

  16.

  Rebecca

  I watch Luke leave, and then the first tear falls from my eye. I thought he was going to risk everything to see me, no matter what the consequences are. I can’t help but feeling hurt. But then I start questioning myself as I change into my pajamas: maybe I have unreasonable expectations for him. We haven’t even talked about whether we’re exclusive, let alone dating. So far it’s just been a lot of hot fucking, but I
just know there’s something there—there’s something real that’s between us, something more than a spark, something electrical, powerful and magnetic.

  I eventually fall asleep gazing out the window towards the forests that are lit up by the bright moonlight.

  I wake in the morning to a shapely woman in a uniform with a crest on it coming into my room, bearing a trey of breakfast before her on a platter.

  What the fuck? Where am I? All I can remember right now is that I had some really strange dreams, ones in which I was chasing a large and unusually muscular cow through a field full of mushrooms. Hmm, I’ll have to file that one away for any future visits to therapists—not that I’ve ever seen one before. Although maybe I should.

  The uniformed women opens her mouth and says something. It sounds like an alien language. “Shx-hea-xan,” it sounds like. Fuck, what the hell is going on?

  Then I realize what’s happening. It all comes flooding back. I’m in the royal Liserian palace. This woman’s uniform has the Liserian royal crest. She’s a palace servant, bringing me breakfast in bed. She’s speaking Liserian French.

  “Thanks,” I manage to say, in regular French. It’s going to take me a while to start picking up on the words that are different in Liserian French, but I’m positive either way that my regular French is going to be understood by pretty much everyone.

  “Do you want sugar for your coffee?” she says. This time I understand every word. My brain feels overwhelmed by the French, but I’m starting to remember a lot more.

  “Just a little,” I say.

  She leaves and I sip my coffee while still in bed, wondering what non-French speaking guest do when they stay in the palace. Then I realize that there’s probably a reason I’d never before heard of Liseria before meeting Luke—there probably aren’t many visitors.

  The phone rings, startling me. It’s an old-fashioned phone that looks about 30 years old.

  “Hello?” I say, in French.

  “Hey,” says Luke. “It’s Luke.” He’s speaking English, which is a relief.

  “I know it’s you, asshole,” I say.

  He laughs. “I thought you’d want to check out the grounds this morning with me while the dew’s still on the grass. I know you love that nature stuff.”

  I huff and puff a little, still a little ticked off about him not staying with me last night, but in the end I concede to his demands and we agree to meet in half an hour.

  “Just meet me in the East Wing, by the Charlemagne Gate,” he says. “If you have any trouble finding it, just ask someone.”

  “No problem,” I say, not wanting to sound stupid, but I wonder how the hell I’m going to find the East Wing, let alone some Charlemagne Gate. Whatever, I’ll figure it out when I get to it.

  I finish my breakfast while staring out to the grounds. They look completely beautiful, honestly. I’ve never seen anything like the type of foliage here.

  I also flip through a little French phrase book I brought along—a hangover from my college days—and try to memorize some very polite expressions, should we happen to meet someone very important.

  But since I figure it’ll just be me and Luke walking around outside, I choose something practical to wear. After all, I wore that dress last night, and all that ended up happening was that Luke fucked me in it. I could have shown up wearing sweatpants and it all would have been the same, and I wouldn’t have to sent the dress to the cleaners. I remind myself to figure out how to get clothes cleaned here. I doubt Luke knows, but I’m sure Eugene does.

  I put on the leggings I wore on the plane, along with an old t-shirt. I’m sure there’ll be time to change before the lunch with the King and Queen.

  I leave my room, making sure to take the key along with me. It’s a big old-fashioned skeleton key that reminds me once again I really am in a palace.

  There are some things I didn’t notice the night before, like sconces with torches on the walls. Since it was night, I also didn’t notice last night how dark and damp it is here in the palace even during the day. The light barely comes in, streaming, when it does, through narrow and deep windows far up above.

  It takes me about twenty extra minutes to find the gate we’re supposed to meet at. I ask everyone I see in the palace, but they all act like I should already know where it is, so I spend a good while running back and forth through various stone passageways. The castle is fucking huge, but eventually I find them.

  “Rebecca!” It’s Luke, waving at me.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I say, breathless.

  But what’s this? He’s standing there with three or four regal looking adults all wearing formal wear. Eugene’s standing along to the side.

  I’m suddenly conscious of how inappropriately dressed I am to meet anyone. Luke doesn’t seem to take any notice of how I’m dressed, except, that is, to take a healthy glance at my ass as I walk over.

  Eugene smiles weakly, and says, “Rebecca, may I present you to the King and Queen of Liseria.”

  Oh shit!

  The fucking king and queen. Why couldn’t I have chosen something else to wear? After all, it’s my first fucking morning in Liseria. And I chose to wear leggings and an old t-shirt just because we’re going to be going outside. That doesn’t make any sense.

  “It’s so very nice to meet you,” says the Queen to me, in heavily-accented English. She seems like a pleasant lady in her mid 60s, with grey hair. I can tell she was quite the beauty in her early years, and she’s still got most of her figure. I’m a little envious, actually.

  The king clears his throat. I look at him. He’s a very regal looking man with immensely broad shoulders, not to mention a big belly. He’s wearing some kind of really silly looking crown on his head. He has a scowl written across his face.

  “The king actually prefers that English not be spoken in the palace,” says Eugene, to me in English. The irony isn’t lost on me. Not speaking English? Eugene’s speaking to me in English, and the Queen just spoke to me in English, didn’t she? Unless I’m hearing things.

  “He’s just embarrassed about his own English,” says Luke, laughing at his own joke.

  “I’ve spoken English fluently since I was five years old,” says the King, in Liserian French, his face in a horribly severe frown. “But this is Liseria, and we speak Liserian French in Liseria, especially in the palace.”

  “That’s fine with me,” I say, speaking in French. I think the words are coming back to me.

  “Very good,” says the King, his expression not even changing. It’s as if he’s not surprised at all that I speak French, but merely considers it something that he expects of all his guests, no matter where they’re from.

  I catch Luke rolling his eyes. I’ve never seen a father and son so different from these two.

  “It’s so nice to meet you,” I say, to the queen in French. Unlike her husband, she smiles warmly at me.

  The King and I exchange greetings, and his expression doesn’t change at all. I’m also introduced by Eugene to two other royal cabinet members. Both are tall men in their fifties with elegant greying hair and expensive suits. I immediately forget their names and positions.

  Well, looks like we’re going to be speaking French the whole time.

  Eugene starts explaining various little details about this particular gate, and I realize that this isn’t some walk around the garden with Luke—this is a full-fledged royal introduction and tour of the palace grounds.

  I really wish I had some way to steal back to my room to change. I’m going to look ridiculous. God, I hope there aren’t any photographers.

  Eventually after many minutes of Eugene’s boring explanations, we make our way out to the grounds.

  “I didn’t know this was with your mom and dad,” I finally manage to whisper to Luke, walking along side him on the palace grounds.

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t either.”

  “But look at what I’m wearing. I loo
k ridiculous.”

  He slaps my ass when no one’s looking (I hope). “You look fucking sexy. I want to rip those tights open and take you behind that outcropping of bushes over there.”

  I sigh. Not that it doesn’t sound sexy as hell to have the prince say that to me, but I’m acutely aware of how silly I look. I notice the members of the royal cabinet giving me occasionally disapproving glances. The King and Queen seem too polite to actually really look carefully at what I’m wearing, but I’m sure they noticed. How could they not?

  As my brain’s struggling a little with Eugene’s French (the accent and vocabulary is quite different from the regular French I’m used to), I suddenly realize that I just called Luke “the prince” to myself.

  I guess it is kind of hot he’s a real prince. I’d never really thought of it much before, especially out in Texas, when he was hanging out all day in an RV. But now he’s here in his natural habitat, and it’s impossible to ignore that fact that he’s the prince, especially considering his semi-military looking royal uniform. He’s got his hair combed and he’s cleanly shaved for the first time since I’ve seen him. He looks fucking hot.

  Finally, the tour is over, and I’m left standing with Luke on the admittedly incredibly beautiful palace grounds. There are gardens all around us, with exotic plants. The mountains in the distance are forested and immensely tall.

  Luke leans in and kisses me. “I hope that wasn’t too bad.”

  “No,” I say. “I just hope I can make up for what I wore this morning at the lunch.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. Just wear that dress you had on the other day. You’ll look fine.”

  “You really know nothing about women’s clothes, do you?”

  “I don’t know anything about any sort of clothes. Except I know what you look sexy in.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Just about everything. But especially those pants.”

  He’s got his hand cupping my butt, squeezing it tightly, and I feel my nipples start to harden as a warm feeling runs through my middle.