That was frustrating. I crossed my legs and tried not to think too much about Trip’s hands on my body, his lips against my skin.
What the hell was happening to me? The guy was such an arrogant asshole, and yet I found myself wanting him the more I got to know him. He’d made it clear what kind of man he was from the start, or maybe I was wrong to judge him so quickly.
A few hours passed that way until finally a new article popped up on Reuters. Apparently there had been another attack in Stehen, this time a shooting in the subway. Two people were confirmed dead so far and many were injured, but the Stehen police had subdued the attacker and taken him into custody before he could do serious damage.
I shook my head, shocked. I couldn’t believe that people who wanted democracy would resort to terrorism and would outright kill civilians. It was absolutely insane.
I got my phone and bit my lip. I typed a text to Trip. “Just read what happened. I’m so sorry. Anything I can do?”
I knew there was nothing really, but it was worth a shot anyway.
Maybe fifteen minutes later, I got a message back. “There is something, actually. Come to my apartment tonight.”
“I can do that.”
“Wear the outfit I just sent to you.”
I cocked my head. “What outfit?”
Just as I sent it, there was a knock at the door. I smiled and stood up. Outside was a box on the ground, just like the first box Trip had sent me.
I brought it inside and took the lid off. Inside was a beautiful dress, tight and simple, a dark green that matched my eyes.
“Got it,” I sent him. “But what about the panties?”
“Just the dress,” he said. “Don’t bother with panties. Come at eight.”
I felt a thrill run through me. “Okay,” I sent back.
The hours slipped by nervously. Around six, I showered and got dressed, admiring myself in the mirror. I had to admit, Trip had great taste, or at least someone who worked for Trip did. The dress complemented my body perfectly and made my eyes look beautiful. There was no tag on the dress, which I suspected meant that it was incredibly expensive. I didn’t want to know, not really.
After nervously pacing and getting ready, eight finally came. I left my room calmly and found a security man waiting for me out in the hall.
“Uh, hi,” I said to him.
“Miss, I’m assigned to protect you,” he said.
“Oh. Okay. What’s your name?”
“George.”
“Well, George, do I really need protecting?”
“Not up to me, miss.”
I sighed, shaking my head. I shouldn’t have been surprised. There were attacks happening in the capital, so I guessed the whole castle was on high alert right now. Trip wasn’t taking any chances, and I couldn’t blame him for that.
“Well, do you know how to get to Trip’s apartments at least?”
He nodded. “This way, miss. The king lives in the west wing.”
I followed George through the hallways. He seemed young but he didn’t smile, just like everyone else. I noticed that Starkish people tended to have dark hair, high cheekbones, and slim builds. Trip looked Starkish, but he was more muscular and taller than the average man. Trip was like the perfect Starkish man, handsome, muscular, tall, and with those incredible cheekbones and that perfect jawline.
I found myself daydreaming about him as we walked through the castle maze, heading back toward the west wing. I recognized certain paintings and statues, and I began to guess that maybe they had all those things out all over the place to help people guide themselves.
Eventually, George led me up to the same door I remembered from before. He stepped and gestured. “The king’s apartments,” he said.
“Thanks, George.”
He nodded and then fell back across the hall and away to a respectful distance.
I knocked on Trip’s door, feeling incredibly nervous suddenly. I had known what it meant when he sent me this dress, and what he wanted when he told me not to wear any panties. I’d obeyed, loving that he was giving me commands, but suddenly I was worried. I’d never done anything remotely like this before, so I had no clue what was expected of me or what was going to happen. He was the king after all. I realized that I wanted to please him, even though he was a total asshole.
Finally, Trip opened the door. He was in his usual outfit, though he looked incredible.
“Perfect,” he said, a big grin breaking across his face.
“What?” I asked, blushing.
“Give me a spin.”
I turned for him, looking over my shoulder.
“Perfect,” he said again. “Fuck, Bryce, that is perfect.”
“Stop,” I said, smiling despite myself. “Are you going to invite me in?”