Crown Me, Prince Read online

  Epilogue

  One Week Later

  Garrick and I wake in a tent covered by morning dew. I open the flap and peak my head out, seeing the mountains around us that are still half asleep. The sun hasn’t yet risen, and I see our ashy fire pit from the night before several feet away. No one is here. It’s just my husband and me.

  Together.

  “Come back here, Princess.” Garrick reaches for my hand, pulling me to him, and I laugh as the tent’s zipper falls from my grip and I tumble into my husband’s arms.

  “I thought you promised me a morning quickie?” Garrick asks.

  “Always.”

  We laugh. I know my morning breath is probably gross, but I’m banking on the idea that, since I can’t notice anything wrong about him at this moment, he won’t notice those things about me.

  We’re in a blissed-out honeymoon reverie, and literally nothing can cause us to fall from our high.

  “Let me see what I’m working with.” I pull the sleeping bag off my husband’s body. The tent is sweaty, and a pile of our hiking clothes from yesterday is shoved in a corner. But we don’t care.

  Let me tell you, being here, camped outside of Machu Picchu in Peru, is an adventure in and of itself.

  The adventure I’ve been waiting for.

  But being with Garrick, day in and day out, learning what it means to love one another, is a whole different level of exploration.

  “Oh, Prince, you’re so hard.” I smile, licking my lips, already excited about filling myself with the man I love.

  “You ready to ride me?”

  There’s no need to answer. My pussy was wet the moment I looked at his stiff morning wood. I straddle him, lifting my arms as he pulls off my cotton tank.

  His hands wrap around my waist, gripping my ass. And when I’m on top of him like this, I don’t just feel powerful, I feel adored.

  Cherished.

  Wanted.

  I feel like I am his.

  My fingers wrap around his cock, stroking him gently before I lift my ass ever so slightly and ease him inside of me.

  I say ease, but it’s more of an inch-by-inch inhale and exhale, as I let my body fill with pleasure. The waves of desire rush over me, and I rest my hands on his solid chest, peering into his eyes.

  “Garrick, you feel so good in me.” I gently rock my hips, and his hands cover my large breasts. With him plucking at my nipples, I lean over, letting my breasts fall into his face, and he suckles them softly, causing tingles of pleasure to wash over me.

  I move slightly, my pussy throbbing in delight as his cock thrusts in and out of me, nice and slow. I run my fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends slightly, teasingly. My mouth crashes against his.

  He kisses me deeply, hard. He kisses me the way a man who loves a woman kisses. He kisses me the way a prince kisses his princess.

  “Don’t stop, Princess. Keep riding me like that.”

  He knows I will.

  After he told me he met with his parents, and offered me the castle, I knew without a moment’s hesitation that that would never work.

  I wanted adventure, not a stuffy ball dress and dancing the waltz. I wanted a life with Garrick, not a life that he resented.

  So instead of settling down, we decided to start seeing the world on our honeymoon, because we quickly realized that we had never seen anything. I’d lived my life in Elexia and he’d stuck to northern territories. There’s so much we can see, that we can explore, together.

  And so we committed to six months where we would do just that.

  The added bonus? I told the king and queen we were officially not using birth control, and that I had every intention of getting knocked up during the first six months of our marriage.

  All they’ve been after is an heir, and I swore to do my damnedest to get them one.

  The idea of being filled with Garrick’s child makes me ache with desire, and I rock harder against my husband’s rod.

  Garrick compromised with his father about his job.

  Compromise, my new favorite word.

  After our honeymoon, he’ll be the royal ambassador, meaning he’ll get to travel and represent the country of Alpinweiss. I’ll accompany him, obviously.

  I’ll get to travel; he’ll be doing his duty as a family member.

  In the meantime, we can design our dream house. A new wing to the castle. Because while the Historic Village is important to his country, it’s clear that living down the hall from his parents would cause Garrick to feel like he was always living in someone else’s shadow.

  “In our new house,” I tell him, “we must have a sex room.”

  “A sex room?” Garrick cocks an eye at me as I rise up again, my ass in the air as I ride him.

  “Yeah, I’m thinking a swing, a few whips, handcuffs?”

  “See, I knew my princess wanted an adventure.”

  “I saw the Fifty Shades Darker trailer. Call me inspired,” I say, laughing, moving up and down on him.

  “Didn’t I say you were trouble?” he asks, wrapping his hands around my ass as I come, riding him hard.

  He comes, filling me with his seed. My mouth finds his again and I kiss him, letting my tongue entwine with his.

  I am so completely happy. And full.

  My cell phone rings—which is so jarring, considering we’re in the middle of nowhere.

  I roll off my husband, and dig around in my bag for my cellphone. I rip off the selfie-stick that’s still attached.

  Shockingly, Garrick agreed to pose for a handful of selfies on our honeymoon. He always seemed like such a jerk, but the truth was he just needed a woman to soften his rough edges.

  I answer the call.

  “Iris?” my younger sister Dahlia asks.

  “What is it?” I ask, lowering myself to the ground as Garrick wraps his arms around me.

  I’m so shocked to hear my little sister’s voice. She should be halfway to the altar by now. Not calling me.

  “I need your help. There’s a snowstorm, and I haven’t met the Prince and I’m stuck here with his bodyguard ... and, Iris ... I’m screwed.”

  “Screwed like I was when I didn’t want to be living in a one room cabin, or like actual trouble?”

  “Actually screwed. I’ve fallen in love. Hard.”

  “How is that a problem?”

  “I told you, Iris. I haven’t met the Prince—the man I’m supposed to marry. I’m in love with someone else.”

  Before I can say any more, the call ends in a static buzz. She did say there was a snowstorm. I press call, but her phone just rings and rings.

  “Everything okay?” Garrick asks.

  “No. My sister needs help getting to the altar.” I look at the dead call and try the number again. Straight to her answering machine.

  “We’ll go to town and try to get a better signal,” Garrick suggests. “Or use a landline.”

  “It isn’t even sunrise. Nothing is open yet.” Realizing there’s nothing I can do at this exact moment to help Dahlia, I look back at my husband, feigning innocence. “Whatever will we do in the meantime?”

  “Each other.”

  And so that is exactly what we do.

  Turn The Page…

  CROWNED BY THE MOUNTAIN PRINCE

  Lucas & Dahlia

  “The dress is on the floor, my black bra pushing up my breasts, and he palms them as if they are his.

  For tonight, they are.”

  Chapter 1

  The moment Father calls us into the throne room I know something big is happening. It isn’t very often that he summons us at all; he’s usually too stressed out, and the way he relieves his stress is by lying on the beach.

  Definitely not by trying to get the country of Elexia back in order.

  My oldest sister, Violet, has always done her fair share of helping out in the farther reaches of the kingdom. Iris, the middle child, maintains a disposition capable of convincing anyone to do what she wants.

  Me, I he
lp out in my own way—albeit a softer, quieter way. While Violet complains about how busy she is, and Iris laments not getting to go on some Moroccan camel ride in Timbuktu, I’m usually busy doing the simpler things that our poor weathered castle requires.

  Someone has to do the dirty work.

  Now I’m not saying I’m a maid … but if anyone is ever looking for me, the first place they go is the washroom because I take care of the laundry. Or else they look in the kitchen, because someone has to chop the vegetables. You know that rum punch Elexia is so famous for? Well, someone has to juice all those berries.

  And I’m being completely honest when I say this: I don’t mind these chores. I love our castle. It isn’t a fairytale castle, necessarily, but in my mind, it’s a page right out of a storybook.

  It has this Jungle Book aesthetic—think open doors, sun bleeding through every window, the sea breeze wafting through the sitting rooms, massive palm trees and thick vines growing everywhere. Canopies cover the large outdoor decks, and the polished floors are bright and gleaming.

  I adore this home sweet home, which is why I spend so much time caring for it.

  Maybe you’re pegging me as Cinderella from the movies? Where the blond-haired, blue-eyed, misplaced Princess scrubs the floor with the wooden bucket and a soppy sponge? Well, I’m not saying there are birds and mice helping me when I’m on my hands and knees, polishing the floor or the banister, but I am saying that that’s where I’m most comfortable.

  That’s where I take the most pride.

  Well—that, and helping my older sisters sew their clothing. Iris always says she likes to sew, but the truth is, she likes to show me pictures of dresses she wants and then stand poised as I drape the cloth around her body, pining the fabric in place.

  So when Father calls us into the throne room, I have an apron on, a kerchief on my hair, and rosy, flushed cheeks from rushing here.

  Violet looks prim and proper, as she always does. Iris looks the part of the distracted princess, looking at her phone instead of meeting anyone’s gaze.

  “Daughters, I have a plan that will save our country,” Father says brightly.

  I swallow the questions rising in my throat. I do my best to pause before I speak—which is good, considering the words immediately rising to the surface are negative.

  I’m not saying I’m a pessimist … because everything I do is the opposite of pessimism. But I will say, the idea that my father—my bumbling father, who’s forgotten to attend any civic hall meeting over the last two years—has a plan that can save Elexia?

  It sounds a little far-fetched.

  “And what is it, Father?” Violet asks. I see her mentally taking notes before the verdict has even been stated.

  “I have arranged marriages for all three of my daughters.” My father grins broadly, as if he has somehow cured an epidemic, or figured out what to do with our kingdom’s homeless population.

  But no. He’s found us suitors. That’s it.

  “How’s that going to save us?” Iris asks.

  Father wags his finger at us, smiling surely. “The kings of the respective countries where each of your princes are from have agreed to pay dowries for your hands. Violet will marry first, then Iris, and lastly you, my darling Dahlia.”

  He pats my head as if I’m a child, when clearly I’m not. I’m twenty-one years old and while I’m the youngest daughter, in a lot of ways I’m more mature than my older sisters.

  Not that I’d ever say that to them; they’d of course balk at the sentiment. Some people think the youngest is always going to be the most frivolous. But that isn’t me at all. I’m the sort of girl who, instead of moaning about the fact that the housecleaners have been laid off, picks up a mop and sets to work.

  “Who are we to marry?” Violet asks.

  I see her knuckles go white, her beautiful face blank.

  Beside me, Iris squeals—which is no surprise. She’s been ready for an adventure since she was a little girl. For her, this chance to go somewhere new is her heart’s desire.

  But me? My heart’s desire is different than Iris’s, and definitely different than Violet’s. Violet cares deeply for Elexia, not just her family. She cares for our people. For her, I can already see how leaving home will be a challenge in a different way.

  I listen as Father lists the irreparable bad boy Hunter of Cressia as Violet’s husband to be, and the reclusive Garrick of Alpinweiss to be Iris’s betrothed.

  “And me?” I ask. “Who am I to wed?”

  Violet is already fainting beside me; apparently the idea of marrying the most indecent prince in the world has gotten to her. I hold her hand, and feel for a pulse to confirm that she’s okay.

  Still, my eyes are on my father, my king. I want to know who my husband is going to be.

  The truth is, I’ve only ever wanted one thing: true love.

  And with one announcement it seems as if that is not to be my destiny after all.

  I blink back tears, realizing that true love is never going to be something I have. If I’ve been bought for a price, then this marriage is just an arrangement.

  It’s not a marriage of love.

  “You, my darling Dahlia, are to marry Prince Lucas of Rochester.”

  I gasp; this Prince is too good to be true.

  I can’t believe my fortune.

  Everyone knows that Prince Lucas is the most likable Prince in the world. Not a bad boy like Hunter, and not a jerk like Garrick.

  And he is to be my husband.

  Now I’m the one who feels faint.

  Chapter 2

  I pace Father’s bedchamber.

  He summoned me here with news.

  I know what’s coming. Everyone knows what’s coming: the royal wedding that every person in Rochester has been planning since my birth.

  I’m to wed in one month’s time. I just haven’t met the girl yet.

  My father shifts in his bed. I know he’s in pain, and it kills me to see him this way. He’s been on his deathbed for three years. He’s one of my closest friends, and he’s carefully prepared me to take over the throne when he passes.

  I’m a lucky Prince indeed.

  I trust him with arranging my marriage. It’s been the tradition in my country since the beginning of time.

  Still, I’ll admit to being hesitant. What if he picks wrong?

  “Your wife has been chosen,” he says.

  I clench my jaw, so conflicted. I wanted to marry someone I cared for, but I must settle for someone my father believes will be a good alliance.

  A stranger.

  My father knows my feelings on the matter.

  “There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s the princess for you,” Father says.

  “Why do you say that?” I ask, raising a brow. “Have you met her, then?”

  Father folds his hands, considering me. “No, but it appears she will be a good match. She is virtuous and kind. That seems like enough. And the alliance with her country will serve us well. They need to increase their exports, and our harbors can offer them the aid they need in exchange for lowered taxes on the goods we want. I truly believe she will like you for you. She appears … down to earth.”

  I’m not as certain. Having been touted as the “most eligible prince” for the past several years, I’ve been around women who aren’t in it for the right reasons.

  “I’ve dated plenty of royal women over the years, and they’re never interested in me as a person. They want the title, and the crown of Rochester.”

  “And what are you looking for, Son? Love?”

  “Love?” I shake my head. No matter how much of a romantic I am, at my core I’m a realist. “I’m not looking for true love. Would I like that? Of course. Who wouldn’t? But that’s not what I’m after. I’m looking for someone compatible. Gold-diggers have burned me too many times before. I want someone who genuinely likes me, someone I can take on the sailboat in the summer, someone I can read books with in the mountain chalet. I want a bri
de who appreciates me as something more than a prince.”

  My father nods his head in understanding. “You mean a bride who likes you for reasons beyond your title? Because, Son, you won’t be a prince for long.”

  I swallow, hating it when Father speaks this way, even though we both know it’s the truth. He won’t last much longer. And when he passes, I’ll be king. Whomever I wed will shortly become Queen of Rochester.

  This is no secret. Everyone the world over knows that the king of Rochester is ill.

  More than ill: dying.

  “Father, you don’t know that for certain. Perhaps the new medication will work. Something may turn around soon. You never know what fortune may befall you, or will befall Rochester.”

  He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his face. “And you say you’re not a romantic? You say you’re a realist? Look at you, wishing for things that are not to be. I daresay I won’t make it past the New Year.”

  “It’s already November, Father.” I stop pacing his room, instead resting my elbows over the footboard of his bed. How many times, over the years, have I come here asking my father for advice? Weighing his counsel and genuinely wanting his opinion?

  And so soon, he will be gone.

  I know the medication is not going to be a miracle cure. So he’s wrong about that; I am a realist. But I can’t give up hope, not now. Not yet.

  “My greatest wish is to see you married,” he says. “That was your mother’s greatest wish too, God rest her soul. But, Lucas … she isn’t here, and I won’t be here forever, either. I just worry that you’ll get so caught up in wanting the one that you’ll miss out on a lifetime of happiness with someone you’re compatible with.”

  I look out the window to collect my thoughts. The mountains are draped with a blanket of fresh snow. The kingdom of Rochester is tucked away in a mountainous region, one that’s expansive and beautiful—yet under the pure white snow, the terrain is cruel and harsh. The winters are long, and the snow deep.

  Knowing that my father will pass soon is equally harsh, equally cruel. He’s a good man and deserves a long life.