The Royal Scepter_A Royal Baby Romance Page 7

  “Do you like my new gown, Prince Estefan?” she sings teasingly, a grin wide on her face. “I thought I would show it to you today, as we have some… new debts we should discuss.”

  “It’s nice. Did you buy that from Ms. Featherly?” I ask, keeping polite, but certainly not throwing the layers of flirting on that I usually do. I have more important women in mind for that.

  “How did you guess?! Oh, dear, she’s the most amazing fashion connoisseur in all of Velune,” Cecilia gushes. “Did you know she fits women with genuine carnelian silk from Aluvon? I couldn’t believe it when I saw it!”

  “Impressive. I’m not a fashion person myself, but my parents always recommended Ms. Featherly,” I shrug. “Now, what’s the matter of this debt you need to settle with the the royal accountants?” I ask, completely professional. She smirks, slinking her way over to the desk, sure to shut the door with a slam behind her, playing up all the foxy charms in her curvy body. All I can see is her gown - and Princess Erica’s body wearing the same, her pert young body packaged so tightly and perfectly inside the rubies and lace.

  “Well, you know, we have the usual… accounts to square up with again, don’t you remember, Prince Estefan?~” she chirps cheerily, big lips smirking as she runs her finger along my chin. I play completely dumb, while my body throbs in want for Erica. “And maybe, we can discuss some brand new types of… accounts, to discuss?…” decoding her little roleplay talk, I know why she’s here. She wants to take things to the next level. If only she knew what I’ve felt in the last two weeks.

  “My assistant, Conrad, looked over the royal ledgers earlier today,” I speak with tact and royal poise. “He informed me we don’t seem to have any outstanding debts with you, Princess Cecilia. Are you sure we had outstanding balances we needed to meet about?” A lewd smile stays snaked through her expression; she still thinks I’m playing along. Her finger teases against my lips, plunging down my neckline. Two weeks ago, Cecilia would’ve had me tearing my slacks away and fucking her raw on this table. Not anymore. All I can think about is that sweet sexy young body, seed spilling hot and fresh from her pussy until she bears my baby.

  “Maybe we need to… borrow, some fresh treasure, from your royal coffers?” Cecilia purrs, hopping up onto the desk and swinging her long legs around, her legs parted to give me sight of her wet slit, no underwear under her dress. “Maybe you could help the kingdom with that, Prince Estefan?…” she asks, leaning in to kiss me. I pull back.

  “Princess Cecilia, I’m not sure if I have the authority to do anything like that in the treasury,” I shrug. “You might need to talk to our financial vizier, Ducat, to deal with that issue, Princess.” She blinks as I push away from the desk, unaffected by the sight of her body beneath the dress.

  “Wh-what’s going on? What’s wrong, Estefan?” she protests quietly.

  “What’s wrong with what?” I murmur, my ears alight with all those moans and groans from the night I spent next to Erica. It was so much hotter than I’d even imagined, pounding her tight young pussy.

  “What’s this about? Estefan?” she sneers.

  “What’s what about?”

  “I know what it’s about,” she blurts, rage creeping into her face. “It’s that haughty little bitch, isn’t it? The one you bid on at that date auction? Louella told me about her,” Cecilia raves, “said that Erica’s not even a princess. I went to check it out myself. You’re banging a commoner!” Cecilia shouts.

  “Don’t you dare presume to know about my relationships,” I rumble, enraged she’d insult Erica like that. “Princess Erica’s business is none of your concern.”

  “So it is her, isn’t it? ‘Princess’ Erica?” Cecilia grumbles. “Louella was right about you.”

  “What are you doing talking to fucking Louella about me, of all people? You know she’s my ex, don’t you?” I bluster.

  “For good reason,” Cecilia shouts.

  “I dumped her!” I exclaim. “Not the other way around!”

  “Figures you would dump a beautiful, powerful woman like Louella,” Cecilia haughtily snorts. “You have no future with that street rat.”

  “Cecilia,” I rumble, “don’t call her that.”

  “Or you’ll do what?” she spurns me.

  “I’m certain the people of Aluvon would want nothing more than to hear about what the eldest daughter of King Millon has been doing of late, wouldn’t they? Wasting the time of her accounting office chasing phantom debts so she has a reason to sleep with the Prince of Velune?” I growl. I don’t like talking this way, but she’s threatening Erica - she’s threatening me.

  “You wouldn’t dare!” she gasps, covering her mouth in surprise.

  “Try me. You insult Erica like that, or lodge any complaints about her with the royal record keepers, and I’ll show you just what I’m willing to do for her,” I threaten.

  “Fine!” Cecilia shouts. “You can have that filthy street whore. From what Louella tells me, she’s a perfect fit for you, after all,” Cecilia growls with a loud harumph, storming out of the office, throwing the door open with a BANG. Conrad glares through the threshold, surprise in his eyes.

  “Wh-what was that all about, your majesty?” he inquires as I storm past him.

  “Royal matters,” I grunt angrily, pushing past him and bounding up the stairs and down the hall to my royal bedchamber, nestled in a quiet corner of our towering palace. Frustration teeming in every pore I slam the heavy oaken doors shut behind me and glare out the window, watching Cecilia strut angrily out the gates, ranting at the guardsmen as she passes and slips into her royal carriage.

  The more I hear it the more I doubt it - but Erica wouldn’t lie to me, would she? Claiming she is a princess, but coming from the merchant class. I confess I doubted her - sending a royal messenger across the mountains and far beyond, to the kingdom of Tyrel, with an official message asking them about the existence of a Princess Erica. I want her so badly - I need her, and even if the message comes back to me telling me no such princess exists…

  I might break the rules, the laws - everything, to have her in my bed at night; to have her bear my royal heir.

  I throw myself onto my bed, its hinges creaking as I sigh, staring at the canopy overhead. Every time I lay down on my satin sheets, I see her face; I feel her breath, hitching tight in her squeezing throat as I taunt her with my words; with ice, with champagne; as I fill her with my cock and feel her clench around me as roaring release fills both of our steamy frames. The memories overcome me every time I think about it…

  Memories or her return as I blow out the lamps flanking my bed, letting the early evening sunlight seep weakly across my carpet. Memories of her haunt me in dark, sleepless nights. My hand rolls along my chest, unbuttoning each button; unclasping the seam of my pants, slowly pulling down the zipper. My fingers trace up and down the fit crease of my taut pelvis, rolling along my bulge, hidden beneath the fabric of my slacks. I tug my eyes closed, adroit fingers wrapping one-by-one about the base of my meaty shaft, each digit teasing across the sensitive skin, fighting so hard to conjure the memories of that fucking hot, powerful night I spent fucking Erica until our heads spun. The memories buried in my flesh by need and lust and dark, dirty desire. Tonight, like last night, the memories will come in lewd spurts, and in recalling every bit of sass she gave me, every touch of her fingers as she begged me for more, every murmur in my ear begging for me to fuck her raw and breed with her a new heir… I stroke that stiffening length of mine once more. Hoping to grasp, to latch on to those fleeting memories, I open my eyes and glance across the rock-hard, chiseled cut of my strong arms.

  My palm picks up speed, grasping and trembling along my throbbing, thick girth, as I remember those sassy words of protest, and how I pounced her, and she always wanted more, proving herself too hot to handle, and too delicious to pass up. The memories spin into my brain and I grasp my cock hard, running those fingers fiercely at the thoughts Erica conjures and the feelings she enflames i
nside me.

  Those memories swirl and swarm and my body can’t hold out any longer; skilled, deft fingers clamp down and pump and jerk on my cock harder, harder than I can even breathe now in the depths of lust, thinking about her bouncing tits and her shapely ass and her screams of pleasure and pleading for me not to let her go. My muscles twitching, my reddened cocktip leaks hot precum while my starved orgasm begins to surge up from beneath. I grab my satin sheets, throwing them aside, leaving my sweat-riddled, quaking body exposed to the cool air; my mind reels at the collected memories, my eyes pressed shut. I pump, harder and harder, palms sliding so fast along my shaft my skin becomes a blur; my chest arches out and I feel it coming, coming so hard, crashing over my thoughts, sending thunderbolts along my nerves.

  “F—FUCK!” I growl out through parted lips, my hips jerking up and gushing, bursting waves of my thick, sticky release spurting with all the strength of my hard body into the air, spraying strands messily spreading with each spasming jerk of my shaft, across my toned pelvis. My sleek, filthy, milky-white spray burst like the streams of a fountain from my bulging and spent cockhead, creamy release splaying messily along my cut, toned abs when the explosive climax finally spewed out its last, cum-heavy bursts. I lay there, wide-mouthed, gasping for breath as the memories weave through my mind, sweat rolling along my brow and thatching streams of moisture between my cut, firm muscles. My hand strokes down on my spent, rubbery shaft, trying to steady every explosive fiber of my body from the last memories of her stinging in my mind.

  Princess Erica. Princess of Velune. As I lay there, a mess, completely washed over by the climax she can bring me to even in my thoughts, I know I have to fucking have her - completely, forever. I have to fuck her every night and fill her with my seed until our bodies both hurt. Until she brings me my royal child, a child only she is fit to carry.

  Erica

  “Come on, loosen up, Erica! It’s my birthday! I was just flirting with him, I wasn’t going to do anything,” Katrana giggles, deep into her sixth glass of Velunian wine. Some responsible adult she is; she spent half our month’s rent money to reserve half of Scoot’s Tavern for her big party, inviting dozens of guys - most of them I don’t even know - for her to flirt with while Bertrand sits brooding angry in the corner booth. She invited me, of course - maybe the only other woman at the party.

  “I’m perfectly loosened, Katrana,” I grump at her. I have a thousand places I’d much rather be - and I’d much rather be at all of them with my prince. His body and his growling words, the way he taunts me, and my hunger to bear his royal heir… it’s all I’ve been able to think about since that night. Since I had the carriage carry me to the city’s edge, to keep up the illusion of the princess, I haven’t seen him… and my heart sinks, worried now in the midst of this mirth, that he’s discovered my dark secret - and that his heart no longer yearns for me the way mine does for him.

  “You shouldn’t be loosened yet,” Katrana snarks, “let one of the guys I invited do that for you,” she comments lewdly. “Come on, Erica! Have fun with me! There’re plenty of guys here for us to choose from. Even some of those hotties from up at the palace,” she moans, her cheeks flush with the heat of her drinks. I shiver at the thought of more royals crashing in to me. Like the Duke.

  Oh god…

  “Katrana, you didn’t invite the Duke of Palazza, did you?!” I hiss.

  “Did I invite who?” she mutters, gulping down another swig of her wine, finishing the glass off and sliding it across the bar. “Another, bartender! It’s my birthday!”

  “You know who,” I snarl quietly. “You said you invited royals, you didn’t invite—”

  “Erica,” I hear his voice, sighing deeply. The Duke of Palazza stands behind me, arms crossed, smiling like the snake he is. “I’m so glad Katrana invited me to the party. I figured maybe my dearest Erica had something to do with that.”

  “No, I certainly didn’t,” I state firmly, slumping into the chair next to me. The Duke gulps down his shooters of crystal liquor, sitting down across from me.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart? I’ve been worried about you. I haven’t heard from you in a week. We haven’t gotten to talk in so long,” he says, his voice dripping with fake concern.

  “I don’t want to talk to you. I broke up with you,” I hiss.

  “I don’t remember anything official being decided between us,” he muses. “We didn’t even talk. Instead, you had a ball to run off to, didn’t you? A ball for princesses?”

  “I caught you cheating on me,” I remind him. “Don’t you remember? You had your cock inside of some other woman, at my house, in my bed!” I exclaim, incredulous.

  “You never gave me a chance to explain myself,” he insists, handing his glass off to a waiter for a refill. I search urgently for Katrana - she’s disappeared, somewhere in the crowd of guys she invited over to flirt with. I search pleadingly for him - for Estefan, hoping he’ll storm through the door and knock the Duke of Palazza out, and whisk me away to the castle, where we can kiss and he can tie me down and use my hot young body in all those ways he knows how to, so perfectly, until the sun comes up.

  “Explain yourself? Explain what? You laying on my bed, fucking another woman? What is there to explain?” I shout.

  “There’s a lot to explain!” he shouts back. I recoil, feeling a little fear. I have no problem standing toe-to-toe with my sass, but he’s tall and he’s strong and he has a whole retinue of soldiers behind him, probably waiting at the door to handle any situations. Where are you, my prince?…

  “Like what?” I hiss.

  “She was an old friend, and we had a mix up. I had wanted to help her with something, something I knew you could handle - but you weren’t at the apartment, so we waited,” he explains.

  “And you entertained yourself while waiting by fucking her?” I retort. “Imagine you, doing that to me, duke. How would you respond?”

  “I’m already responding poorly to it, because I know what you did on that date, with Prince Estefan, that son of a bitch,” he growls. “It’s okay, Erica. I forget and forgive easily. And I’ve already forgiven you for fucking that poncy rich pretty-boy.”

  “You forgive me?” I ask, incredulous. “Well, I guess I should really feel honored, shouldn’t I?”

  “I forgive you so much, in fact, that I’m willing to let your attempt at pretending to be a princess fly without saying anything about it,” he threatens me. My eyes go wide. “Don’t you remember? I saw you at that ball. Playing pretend. And I’m not sure if you know, but the prince can only marry royalty. What you’ve done is commit treason. Do you know what the punishment for that is - and what such a punishment would do to Prince Estefan?”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” I exhale sharply.

  “I wouldn’t?” he cackles.

  “So you’re going to try to blackmail me, into dating you again?” I sigh. Please, Estefan… come through the door. Please, please. Carry me away to freedom.

  “Blackmail? Sweetheart, I just see it as a way of making you realize all the good there was in our relationship,” he pretends to dote on me. “Now, any drink you want to have tonight at this little event with your sister, is paid for, on my tab. Have fun. I’ll be out in my royal carriage, with my retinue of guards, waiting for you to conclude festivities for the night. I look forward to carrying you back to my palace, where we can have our fun together. Sounds good to you?”

  “It sounds horrible,” I hiss. “Completely horrible.”

  “I’m certain you’ll come around to me again, just like you did the first time, Princess Erica,” he says, leering at me when he rises from the table half-wasted. “No princes or shining-armor knights for the commoners, Erica… I’m more than the best that you’ll ever get.” The Duke storms away; I cup my face in my hands, my dreams slowly crashing down. What can I do? As soon as I walk out that door, they’re going to grab me and throw me into that carriage and I’ll be dashed off to the Duke’s estate and my life will be
ruined. I’ll never see Estefan again, except maybe with wanting glances exchanged at whatever horrible wedding the Duke concocts to wed me at.

  “Hey, Erica!” my sister stumbles back from the crowd, two hunky barbarian-guys on either arm, mugs of ale in both her hands, clearly drunk out of her mind. “Are you having a good night, sis? I love you,” she stammers.

  “Just wonderful,” I sigh. “Why did you invite the Duke of Palazza to this party?”

  “The duke of who?” she giggles.

  “Nevermind,” I roll my eyes. “Who are these guys? And why is neither of them Bertrand?”

  “Bertrand? Who? OH, my boyfriend,” she snorts out, giggling incessantly. “These two guys are Marco, and Savius. They’re barbarians!”

  “Yes, I can see,” I exhale weakly. “Do you think Bertrand would be happy about barbarians?”

  “Who cares! Erica,” she whispers, “come on. My birthday. Two. Hot. Barbarians,” she mewls hotly. “Can you blame me?”

  “I don’t even know how you’re my sister,” I scoff.

  “Oh, come on, sis!” she snickers. “Okay, Marco and Savius and I are going to go have fun! Bye bye!” she waves her mug-filled hands at me, splashing beer across my linen dress before they stumble off together back into the crowd. What a nice this is turning out to be. I slump in my chair, on the verge of crying.

  I just want him now. His strong, rock-hard abs pressed to my stomach; his arms cradling me, telling me everything is going to be okay. I want him in love and in lust, but I haven’t heard from him in days. Did the Duke go to him and threaten him, the same way he did to me? Did it enrage Estefan, to learn I’m not a princess? Did his crazy ex get to him?

  I don’t think I can go on without him. I stare into the glass of expensive Velunian wine the waitress brings me, and all I see is his face swirling in the liquid. All I see when I close my eyes is Estefan’s body, strong and taut and giving me everything. I can feel the tears welling in my eyes, the brat in me broken down - without my dirty prince-master to use my hot young body, what am I going to do?