I can do this. I can so do this.
For the first time in my life, I think I’ve actually found what I was looking for.
Except everything does seem a little too polished, a little too shining and perfect. Garrick’s words in his fight with his parents, about not wanting to be in a parade, ring true.
Right now, we’re being shown off. We’re a product of the palace. It isn’t anywhere near as fulfilling as I’ve imagined being in a royal court would feel, but they seem enchanted with my enthusiasm. I guess, compared to the scowling prince, that’s a nice reprieve.
Garrick leans over and whispers in my ear. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”
I frown, having only just gotten started. “Introduce me to your friends,” I tell him. Maybe I can’t win him over, but I can win over his buddies.
“Friends? They would never come here.”
“What do you mean?” I take a sip of the beer I’m offered.
Garrick downs his stein. “I hang out with some guys that meet at a pub on Friday nights. Kurt, the owner, is one of the best men in the village.”
“One of your best friends is a bartender?” I ask, unable to hide my surprise.
“What? It shocks you that I don’t like to perform in this show with these clowns?”
“Clowns meaning the royal dignitaries in attendance?”
“Exactly.” His eyes roam the room, then settle on me. “You like this bullshit?”
“I like being a part of something happy, something not depressing and bankrupt.”
“Is it always about money with you?”
I pull back, surprised at his question. “No,” I laugh. “I don’t care about money. I don’t need fancy parties every day to be happy.”
“What do you need?” he asks, grabbing another beer from a waiter who passes by.
“I need ... a chance to experience. More. Anything. Life.”
A smile plays across Garrick’s face.
“What?” I ask, not knowing him remotely well enough to know what his looks mean.
He leans down, whispering in my ear again. People are all around us, but time seems to still. My body leans into his, and I want to feel his warm breath on my ear again. “I can give you an experience, wife.”
I stifle a moan, not wanting to admit to the thrill his words give me. I press my thighs together, suddenly hot and anxious.
Just then the king clinks his silver against a goblet, announcing that it’s time to cut the cake.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Garrick asks no one in particular, but I know that plenty hear him. Eyes narrow, and heads shake.
“Garrick, don’t make a scene,” I ask, tugging on his shirtsleeve. “Please.”
He smiles, leaning back to my ear. “Say pretty please, Princess. I want to hear you beg.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. The fact that he has such a dark exterior, but thinks such hot things, makes my pussy wet.
Ready.
Willing.
I take his hand; the current passes between us again. Electric. Looking up at him, with all eyes on us, I say, “Pretty please, husband.”
He inhales through his nose, his jaw set. Desire is written across his face.
He leads me to the center of the room, and someone puts a knife in his hand. A camera flashes as he slices the cake, and he’s clearly not amused. He gets frosting on his thumb as he cuts a piece.
I lean close to him, my hand on his chest. “Let me lick that off.” I take his hand, lifting his thumb to my lips, sucking off the white frosting.
He shakes his head and whispers, “You’re killing me, Princess.”
“I think you’re supposed to shove that in my mouth now,” I tell him, smiling.
“Oh, I’ll shove something in your mouth.”
I laugh, slightly shocked and more than a little amused. “You are a naughty prince.”
“And you, Princess? Are you naughty?” He raises an eyebrow and I know just how to answer.
“Oh, I’m very naughty.” Smirking, I take the slice of cake and press it to his face. And just like in the movies, the crowd cheers, clapping for us.
He doesn’t hesitate. He pulls me to him and kisses me. My mouth is filled with sugary frosting, and then his hot tongue.
He kisses me hard, not like at the wedding chapel. He kisses me like he’s claiming me. Like I’m already his.
When we pull apart, I catch his mother’s eye. She’s beaming, holding the King’s hand, nodding at me like I did exactly what she wanted.
Whatever Garrick and I just did was the right move. They want their son to be seen in a positive light, and this is the best PR they could hope for.
Meeting Garrick’s eyes, I realize we’re both a mess from the smashed cake. We try to wipe our faces with a cloth napkin, but it doesn’t get us properly clean. He takes my hand and says, “Let’s get you washed up.”