Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
It was a few days later when I got the lawsuit, alleging that I’d forced myself on the Queen of Urun. The International Royal Council was involved the day after that — quietly of course, given the “sensitivity of the allegations.” But two days after that is when the real shit hit the fan. See, Rodney had some buddies who’d decided that this was the perfect opportunity to go for the headshot. They saw that power was shifting in my kingdom — that my mother was retiring her crown soon, and that I would eventually be taking up rule of the land. They saw their chance to destabilize, probably because they wanted to carve up a weakened Luthane for themselves, and they took it.
King Homer of Glis, and Faith’s very own Father, King Alfonse suddenly had stories of their own. Homer claimed I’d gone after his daughter, a Princess Kelly I’d literally never met. Alphonse’s claim was even wilder — his bullshit story was that I’d forced myself on his mistress, who I’d also never met.
Yeah, his mistress. He was going to go after me for allegedly assaulting not his wife, but his fucking mistress. The fucking balls on that guy, right?
So that’s what I had hanging over my head. Three charges. Bullshit ones, but ones that would be examined by the International Council nevertheless, with my crown being on the line if they decided to side with the lies.
And right in the middle of all this, I’d gone and married Faith, Alphonse’s daughter. And even if she didn’t know about that whole thing, by then she’d definitely looked me up. She’d definitely been reading all sorts of shit about me online, and I was sure that was souring her more than a little.
But fuck if I was going to let those tabloid jackals keep my angel away from me.
Three days after that third hang up, I grinned to myself as clicked the mouse button on my computer and sat back triumphantly. Yeah, that would be the thirtieth bouquet of flowers I’d sent to her at the royal palace of Devoney in three days. I could claim it was all this big romantic gesture. But, yeah, I wasn’t really that kind of mushy guy. Mostly, I was sending all those flowers to make her flustered.
I figured thirty fucking bunches of roses sent a message. Especially when those roses came with cards that said way over-the-top shit like “to my beautiful wife. Missing you, my angel” or “a bunch of roses for my bunch of love. Kisses, sweetie. Xoxo, hubby.”
They were actually getting mushier and more hilarious the more I sent, and I imagined a red-faced Faith trying to hide thirty dozen roses from her parents while scrambling to throw those cards away.
That gave me a chuckle. But then, my mind drifted. Teasing Faith like this was fun and all, but really, it was a symptom of something bigger. Because I didn’t want to tease her with stupid childish pranks like this.
Nah, I wanted to tease her in a very different way.
I wanted to tease her with my fingertips sliding down the small of her back. I wanted to tease her with my tongue swirling lightly around her nipples before I kissed my way down her tummy, spread her legs, and let my tongue tease her sweet little pussy from clit to asshole, until she was begging me for more.
That’s how I wanted to tease her. And being away from her not having her there sinking down on my lap with my cock buried to the hilt in what I knew was perfect, tight, virgin cunt was pissing me off.
The thought of claiming her, and taking her, and making her scream in pleasure as I showed her how a real man could make her come made me hard in seconds. My cock throbbed inside my pants, tenting my jeans and making me groan as my balls tingled. My hand dropped to my lap, and when I squeezed my thick shaft through the denim, I growled under my breath.
I reached for my desk drawer and yanked it open, reaching inside to pull out my other little reminder of our one night.
…Her panties.
Nothing overtly sexy either. When we’d tumbled into my hotel room, me tearing my shirt off and her yanking her wet dress up over her head and tossing it away, it wasn’t some wildly sexy lace and see-through lingerie that my innocent little princess had coyly slipped down her thighs. No, it’d been some pretty basic, low-cut, white cotton panties, with a little pink bow printed on the front of them.
They were without question the sexiest piece of underwear I’d ever even imagined, and it was because they were hers. There was something so fucking innocent about them — something so her about having regular panties on under that little dress and not some crazy string thong or a racy crotchless number.