Charmed By The Mountain Prince(30)

I feel delirious, intoxicated. And I know it wasn’t the beer. It was swallowing his release.

“Let me take you now,” he says.

I blink, wanting this—but then I remember my stipulation. I’m not giving him my pussy unless he moves me out of that shitty shack.

Is that shallow? Probably. But the stupid words are already out of my mouth.

“My pussy does want you,” I say. “But does that mean you’re ready to agree to my ultimatum, as you called it?”

It’s too late to take the words back.

His eyes narrow; his lips curl in confusion.

“Back to that already, are we?” he asks.

I press my lips together, not knowing how to edge my way out of this, wanting him to give me what I want without any strings attached.

I gave him a blowjob because I wanted to. I was completely swept up in the moment. Getting on my knees and submitting to Garrick felt so right, so natural. So hot.

But now he’s looking at me like he has no intention of moving an inch from where he is perched with his opinions, and that makes my head spin in frustration.

A knock on the bathroom door tears us even further apart than we already are, then we became in a matter of seconds.

Garrick pulls up his pants, buckles his belt. We lock eyes.

“We need to discuss these terms,” he says, nodding curtly, before pulling open the door.





18





We head up the stairs and my eyes are on her perfect ass the entire time. I just had the blow job of my life, and come to find out, my wife doesn’t want me to return the favor.

We find our seats on the stools, and Iris eyes me with frustration. Which is bullshit—I’m the one who just got turned away.

Fuck, every time I feel like she and I make an inroad, something comes between us. I need a chance to explain that I’ve come to my fucking senses.

Before I can speak, the kitchen door swings open and Kurt appears. He’s carrying hot pretzels and sausages in his hand, and he drops them before us with a flourish.

“For the princess. I hope the food is to your liking.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be just wonderful, Kurt. It smells delicious.” Iris smiles tightly. I want her to tell me everything she is thinking.

This greasy pub is anything but fine dining, but once again I’m reminded that Iris is gracious and kind to anyone she comes across. I swallow, realizing I don’t have that same skill whatsoever.

Sure, I’m able to get along with people here in the village. But the people at my parents’ castle, the place I need to be putting in more time, paying my dues? I can’t seem to make peace with my royal obligations and my own desire.

And damn, right now my own desires are growing.

Needing to take my mind off my still-hard cock and what it wants to do with Iris, I order another round.

Kurt quickly takes our steins and fills them. He sets them down before our plates of food and then leaves to attend the other customers. The customers still watch Iris and I closely, but I don’t pay them any mind.

Right now, I only have eyes for her.

“You ready to talk about the ultimatum?” I ask.

She exhales, picking up a skewered sausage and taking a bite. Ignoring my question. “This food is really good,” she says. “Do you eat out often?”

“I eat here most days, to be honest. As you saw, our house isn’t exactly set up for cooking.”

With my reference to my one room cabin, I see Iris physically bristle. Reminding her of our place just seems to remind her of the ways I have refused to give in.

“So that’s the plan then, we’re just going to eat out every day?” The sexual chemistry from the bathroom has dissipated.

“I don’t really know what the plan is, Iris. We just got married yesterday.”

“I know when we got married, Garrick.” Iris rolls her eyes.

I run my hand through my hair. “Damn, Iris, I thought a shopping spree would lighten you up. And I thought, downstairs, that you and I were seeing things eye to eye. But I swear to god you want to get all wound up over nothing.”

“Nothing?” Iris huffs.

“Not nothing,” I amend. Fuck, she might not like my compromise. She’s back to insisting we move out, for good. “Can we just set our differences aside for a moment and enjoy a meal?” I take a deep breath, not wanting to fight.

“Fine. Let’s talk about something less political.” She picks up her beer and chugs in a very un-lady-like manner.

It’s fucking hot as hell, and I realize, as she sets the half-downed beer on the bar, she’s not very happy with the conversation.

I hate that.

I hate that I’ve done any of that to her.

She needs to know that I think she’s amazing in a spirited, don’t mess with me way. In a way that has me reconsidering everything I ever thought about women, about my life.