The Royal Scepter_A Royal Baby Romance Page 3

  “Twenty thousand,” I announce, brash and undeterred. The crowd wows quietly, and the master of ceremonies is speechless. I look across the crowd to the Duke of Palazza, who gulps and glares. He can’t dare match that sort of bid.

  “And I believe Princess Erica is sold, to the Prince himself, Estefan of Velune,” the announcer squeaks out, no doubt overwhelmed by how much money I’m willing to toss around for a girl like her. I’d have gone much higher. I have a promise to fulfill after all, don’t I?

  “Okay, wonderful! We’ve raised more than we ever expected for the Orphan’s Fund tonight, let’s have a round of applause!” Vizier Ducat struts onto the stage in his flowing gown and sash. I can’t stand the insufferable asshole; he glares at me from the stage, no doubt pissed off I threw that kind of money into the auction. Our family’s financial adviser and chair of the treasury, he’s always got something to bitch to my father and mother about. I’m just saying it was a good investment - in a royal heir. “We’re going to take a break from the auction for now - and this next dance is for the new couples to enjoy! Ladies, get out there and waltz, get to know your new men! They paid good money for you, after all,” Ducat announces, storming off the stage. He brushes past me while I wait wantingly for Erica to approach.

  “Come on, Ducat, what’s that look for?” I murmur arrogantly.

  “You know what it’s for. Your father and mother will be hearing about this tomorrow. Your poor father, on his deathbed, and you do this,” Ducat complains in a heated whisper.

  “Come off it,” I scoff as the vizier passes. “You know twenty-thousand’s a speck of sand in the desert of our wealth. Besides, it’s an investment.”

  “An investment?!” Ducat exclaims.

  “In our kingdom’s orphans, of course,” I comment crassly. Erica struts nervously, anxiously across the ballroom floor while the band strikes up a little tune. Her eyes full of allure, she reaches out for me… but the Duke of Palazza has other plans, grabbing her shoulders and arguing with her. What the fuck is this guy’s problem?

  “Just give me—” I approach with fire in my steps while the Duke shouts at Erica. He gulps, seeing me. “Prince Estefan, let me explain,” the slimy Duke protests.

  “Take your hands off my date, Asshole of Palazza,” I growl. Erica smiles.

  “Your date? Your date?!” the Duke responds. I nod.

  “I did pay quite a bit for her, and now we need to get acquainted,” I sneer. “Maybe you should cut the fuck out.”

  “You don’t know this girl,” the Duke insists. “You don’t know—”

  “Don’t know what?” I ask, bulging arms crossed in front of my chest. Erica’s expression turns to panic.

  “She’s—” he stammers in protest. “She— she’s—”

  Whatever his answer was going to be, I’m not interested in listening. He won’t let Erica go, and so I teach him what it means to be a real alpha. With a quick lunge I punch him in the cheek; a single strike that spins the slimy duke around and drops him face-first onto the ballroom floor, knocking him out cold. Erica giggles, her cheeks blushing bright-pink.

  “Squire,” I call out to the young servant standing near the stage, his eyes wide, having watched the whole exchange. “Get the housekeepers here to shuffle this mess off, would you? My date and I need to get to know each other,” I scoff dismissively, offering my hand to hot Princess Erica. She takes it with her petite grasp, her fingers shaking. Young and sizzling with her heart aflutter, I pull her tight against my chest, our fingers clasping as she feels the stiffening bulge in my pants press against her sky-blue gown, her breathing shaking as we start a laboriously, sensually slow dance together.

  “Thank you,” Princess Erica comments quietly, pressing her chest against me. All I can think about is how fucking hard I am, and how much I wish these goddamn clothes weren’t in the way.

  “The Duke of Palazza had quite an interest in you,” I chuckle darkly, my words a searing whisper hot into her pretty ear. “So do I.”

  “Yeah, he… he came to Tyrel, once, and, had an interest in the sisters, and I, and…” she gulps, whimpering into my ear while I growl into hers. “I have… an interest in you, too.”

  “What kind of interest?” I tease her, my hands rolling down her back while the band rumbles on a slow tempo.

  “I… don’t know,” she mewls.

  “I think you know,” I purr into her ear. My hands reach for her ass, so full and plump and pretty; I squeeze hard with each hand, hard enough I know it will leave a good, searing mark in her skin, one she can remember me by until we have our date. She responds with a little mewl, pressing her hips against me; I can feel the heat radiating from beneath her dress, just how badly she fucking wants this, wishing our bodies were naked. We’d fuck right here, hot and hard and sweating, until I filled her with my sticky-hot seed, if we could.

  “I… I do,” she admits hotly, the sass I felt before draining into molten, lusty want when we touch.

  “I think you want me to bind your wrists up and push your cheek into the bed and spank your ass until it hurts while we fuck like animals and scream one another’s name from sundown to sunup,” I threaten lasciviously. She kisses my cheek, but it’s a ravenous kiss, one that begs for more. I glance around, wondering if prying eyes and ears have caught on to our dirty little dance together.

  “Maybe,” she whimpers. Her kisses turn to a soft nibble at my neck, her cheeks blushing bright.

  “Maybe?…” I taunt her with a purr. “Don’t maybe me.”

  “Yes,” she admits breathlessly. “Fuck, yes, please, your highness.”

  “You’ll be calling me more than that after I’m done with you,” I growl into her ear with a dark, basso laugh rumbling in my chest.

  “Make me,” she chirps with a little smirk. With a sudden heat I grasp and squeeze her ass tight, pressing her tiny body against mine with an arm around her waist, pushing her soaked heat against my throbbing bulge. She coos softly as our lips are crushed together in blazing, lusty passion.

  “I will,” I promise. “You’d better be ready for our date in a few days… Princess.”

  Erica

  It’s been two days and he’s all I’ve been able to think about the whole time. That dance we shared, the way he promised to give me all the filthy, sweat-inducing things I secretly want deep inside. The way he promised to make me beg for more while he spanked me and fucked me and made me shiver.

  I can’t imagine anything other than that. Even now, when I’m sitting bored in a nice restaurant with an old friend from the market who asked me out to dinner after he found out the Duke had been cheating on me. I feel bad for Olav - he’s a nice enough guy.

  But he’s not the rich, powerful and hot Prince Estefan that’s been haunting my sweat-soaked dreams for the last two nights. I actually yawn when he starts to ask me about how things have been going, working the Velune market.

  “They’re fine,” I sigh, swirling the expensive Tyrelian wine around in my crystalline glass. Olav is around my age; he worked as an apprentice under my parents before they died. He used to date my sister Katrana, but they broke up. She told me she broke up with him because he was always going on and on about me. Katrana insisted Olav was in to me, and not in to her.

  “How are things… you know, at home? With Katrana? Do you two still get along?” Olav asks, stuttering, trying to make conversation, his messy mop of brown hair shining and greasy in the low candlelight of the restaurant.

  “We get along good. We don’t see much of each other, working opposite times and all,” I say with a shrug. The waiter happens by our dark secluded corner of the restaurant, offering us a basket of freshly-baked bread. We’re only at the bread? This is going to be a long night. I yawn again.

  “Are you tired tonight, Erica? Hard day at the market?” Olav’s pockmarked face smiles.

  “Yeah,” I answer, disinterested. “A hard day at the market.” That’s as good an excuse as any to give him.

  “
Did you want some bread? Best in the whole kingdom of Velune,” he smiles, slicing a bit and buttering it up. “Fresh-made garlic butter to go with it, too.”

  “Sure,” I accept the plate he offers, taking another hit of wine. I really need a lot more if I’m going to get through this. The more poor Olav bores me, the more I think about my prince instead. Prince Estefan. It’s too bad I had to lie to him… he thinks I’m a princess. I know royal laws prevent nonroyals from marrying princes, and I’m waltzing into a dangerous situation… but he’s so smoldering-hot and sexy and the way he talks to me makes him unforgettable. What am I supposed to do?

  “What did you want for dinner, Erica?” Olav intrudes on my dirty fantasies and haunting memories again. I know he’s trying to be polite, but he’s starting to get on my nerves.

  “I don’t know,” I shrug with a sigh, taking a bite of the bread. “What’s good here?”

  “All kinds of things,” he chirps with a smile. “I don’t… really know what you like, or I’d give suggestions.” Typical. Olav’s known me for most of my young life, and he doesn’t know almost anything about me. Just that I’m young and I’m pretty, and that’s enough for him. He doesn’t know the kind of things I want to hear. The things I need to feel. Not like Estefan, who knew from the second he saw me, just what I needed… just what my ears wanted to hear, and my body wanted to feel.

  “I’m really tired, Olav,” I yawn, my memories starting to sweep back to the thoughts of Estefan, very distracting thoughts that fill my head with lusting need. I try to keep myself under control, eating the piece of bread with crunchy bites.

  “Oh… so does that mean you wanted me to order for you, Erica?” he asks, clueless. I sigh.

  “Olav, I’m having a really good time,” I exhale deeply, “but it’s been a really miserable day, and I think I might need to go home to sleep.”

  “Oh. Oh,” he sighs, weakly. “I didn’t know— is it me?” he asks pointedly.

  “No, no,” I say. I try to let him down nicely; I know he’s had a little thing for me for a while. I don’t want to break his heart, but my mind is afire and my heart is thumping out of my chest while I think about Estefan. “I just really need to get home, is all.”

  “Did you want to finish dinner first?” he asks with a frown.

  “No, I’m sorry Olav, I’m just, like… really wiped out,” I respond. “I’m sorry.”

  “Can I at least offer you a ride in the carriage, back to your apartment?” he asks.

  “It’s just up the street,” I shrug. “I can make it. It’s okay, Olav, I really appreciate it, I just need to go,” I insist, my mind shifting back to Estefan’s shredded muscles and his perfect, handsome face; rugged and toughened, but still so confident and hot.

  “Can I stop by sometime? Maybe?” Olav asks as I start to rush to the door of the restaurant.

  “Sure! We can discuss business, or…” my words trail away when I push back out into the street. It’s late, and I’m tired; a soft haze coats the cobblestone streets. Misty streetlamps lead me down the roadways, the clopping horse hooves echoing in the distance. I hear thunder rumbling distant; it sounds a few miles out. A stormy night begins to set in over Velune, and a stormy-eyed, alpha hunk of a prince dominates my mind utterly.

  Princess Erica. I like the sound of it, and the thought of his body against mine, praising me and promising me so much. Too bad it’s all a dirty lie. I just hope he was serious. I trudge through the mist, my eyes hazy with drowsiness, counting the door-numbers until I find the door to Katrana and I’s apartment. Door, after door… I feel lost, dizzy, with him haunting my thoughts. I finally stumble onto Kat and I’s doorstep, pushing through the wooden door and throwing it shut behind me, stopping to catch my breath.

  He’s not even here to touch and taunt and tease me and make me call him daddy, but he’s already stolen my breath and my mind and he’s starting to steal my heart.

  I dash up the stairs; I hear a door creak open, and Kat stands in the doorway to her room, her corset tugged tight, dusky makeup coating her pretty young face.

  “I thought you had a date with Olav tonight?” she asks, curious.

  “I did, but… I was just too tired, so I decided to skip out early,” I frown.

  “Oh. Well, trust me, sis, you’re not really missing anything,” Kat giggles. “He’s not really… well, his scepter isn’t very royal, if you get what I mean,” she jokes.

  “He’s nice, I just had a really hard day,” I sigh.

  “He also had trouble… well, you know,” she murmurs with half-contained glee.

  “You’re a real gossip, you know that, sis?” I chuckle.

  “I think he had trouble because he really wanted you the whole time we were together,” she laments. I look away.

  “Okay, well, I’m tired, and I really need to be ready for tomorrow,” I breathe out awkwardly.

  “What happens tomorrow?” she says, brow lofting.

  “Oh, oh, nothing!” I stutter. I haven’t told her about the prince, who wants to take me dress-shopping tomorrow for the date. “Okay, good night! Have fun with…” I slam the door shut. My mind is too busy and scattered now to even remember what Kat’s doing for the night. A lamp glows next to my bed; I extinguish the flame and fall against the bed with a sigh, darkness encasing my body.

  I roll to one side. I see his face. I roll to the other, and I feel his strong, hard hand on my ass. It still stings a little from his touch. I lay on my stomach, and I secretly wish it was his chiseled body beneath me. I lay on my back, and all I can think about is him, on top of me, pushing my legs open and driving his hot, pumping cock inside of me.

  I close my eyes with a whimpering breath. I can’t stand this feeling - being alone. The Duke was an asshole, and I’m worried the prince will be more of the same. I swore off dating royals that night, when I found the Duke in bed with someone else. Is Prince Estefan going to do the same thing?

  I start to drift into a sleep, and the dreams come to me slowly. Very slowly at first, only in fragmented pieces. Hearing his promises of what he wants to do to me. Taking them to heart. I lay on my back and feel that sting on my ass again. I want more of it. I didn’t know I liked this kind of thing, but my supple young body needs to feel him grasping and spanking my ass. I lay on my front and my nipples perk; I dream of him rubbing his fingers across each of them, squeezing and twisting them until I quiver out a long moan of his name. Estefaaan.

  Wait? Did I just say that aloud? I startle half-awake, thinking I heard myself moaning in my dreams about him. Sleep comes back quick, and the dreams begin again. Dreaming of his hands gripping both of my knees and pushing them open, his pounding dick throbbing for me. Dreaming of how absolutely soaked through my panties I am for him. Dreaming of my hands cuffed, my eyes blindfolded, my body squeezed and bitten and claimed by the voracious animal he promises to be.

  The dream gets hotter, and it’s only an instant before memories and regrets about poor Olav disappear and the weight of the world falls away while my body tosses in the heat of imagined passion.

  There we are, together, on that ballroom dance floor… waltzing, while he whispers filthy promises into my ear. I can’t take any more of the teasing… I reach into his belt, plated in platinum and gold, unlatching the studs and pulling his slacks down to his hips. I feel all ten, thick, pumping inches of his shaft spring free against my blue dress, smearing messy precum all over the gossamer fabric. While we dance we try to keep it quiet, but it’s only so long before he moans and buries his teeth into my neck, growling a thousand hot sounds into my skin while I quake and whimper to him. He’s grabbed my hips now, and the band plays on, while a dozen princes and princesses look on in shock as Prince Estefan hoists me up into his strong grasp.

  “I’m going to bounce you on my cock until neither of us can fucking stand up any longer,” he threatens hotly into my ear. “I’m going to pump you full of my seed, leave you hot and sweating and begging for more, until neither of us can keep
away from the other without immediately crushing our lips together and ripping our clothes off,” he promises.

  God, yes. I need all that, and more.

  “Please,” my voice trembles while his blossoming cockhead teases against my wet cunt, “fuck me, prince… make me your slutty princess,” I plead with him. “Make me call you my dirty, royal daddy while you fuck my brains out and leave every inch of me quaking for more.”

  I take a deep breath, and the dream rattles dead; the sound of a tree clapping against my window startles me awake from my slumber. I’m soaked in a pool of hot sweat, my sheets wet, my thighs drenched and hot. I breathe hotter and faster than any man has ever made me breathe.

  And that’s just from a dream. God… I don’t know if I can even last until tomorrow without him.

  Estefan

  I’m not one for dress shopping, but the date is still four days away. Can you blame me, for sending my royal messenger out to inform Princess Erica I wanted to see her sooner, by offering to buy her a dress for our date?

  Princess Erica strikes me as a woman who prefers simpler dresses. She prefers to use her sassy tongue and pretty face than dresses to try to impress men. Even then, I knew I had to have her in the finest gown one could imagine. It will feel so much more satisfying when I tear it off of her body, piece my piece, while she shivers in the wind and waits in anticipation for our bodies to twine together in steam and sweat.

  “Is this the shop? The one where you rich Velune royalty go to do all your pre-date shopping?” Princess Erica asks with a hint of snark to her voice. I regard her flatly. She is so different from the other princesses. She’s wearing the gossamer-blue dress I loved so much on her - the one I felt her body quiver in, the night I won the date auction. I’m practically salivating at the thought of seeing her nude, but I have to keep myself under control. I have to know if she’s the right one.

  The right one to bear my heir.

  I escort her, her hand in mine, into the dress shop. Hung across mannequins and models from front to back, the shop is stuffed with the most expensive fabrics from all the kingdoms in the land - Tyrelian-dyed gowns, tight and ornamented golden Kitai dresses. Velune’s latest fashions, which seems to revolve around stuffing as many precious stones as possible onto every imaginable surface. Emeralds and onyx and lace woven together into the most beautiful dresses you’ve ever seen. I stay silent, letting Erica soak in all the wealth and class I and my city have to offer her. If there’s anything I know, it’s that nothing makes a princess sweat in want nearly as much as these sorts of exotic gowns.