his head, grazing the bristles of hair. Picturing him fucking me with that jacket half-open and his crown sitting on his head sends a tingle to my pussy.
“You’ll have me all to yourself later tonight. I know you’re wet just thinking about it.”
“Maybe I’ll change my mind.”
He laughs at me as the car grinds to a halt. We’re back in the castle, away from all the commoners. The guests have begun pooling into the courtyard to head toward the ballroom. Liam takes my hand as he exits the car first, and then we disappear into a series of passages that takes us back to the grand staircase. People bow deeply as we pass, looking ecstatic for us.
“So when does the game start?”
“I guess the moment we walk inside.”
Liam’s maniacal grin turns feral as the guards open the doors. The room is flooded with people already, who all turn at the sight of the prince. They break out into applause, and Liam wraps his arm around my waist.
“Congratulations, Princess Daisy!”
I turn to say thank you to whoever said it, but then I’m spun around. Liam palms the small of my back as his other hand grabs a strand of hair dangling on my chest. His knuckle brushes against my breast as he mouths, “One.”
Clever bastard. Only he could get away with making touching my tits look sweet.
He lets my hair fly as he takes my chin. Flames burst under my skin as his lips touch mine. It’s brief. My heart pounds when he brushes my cheek in a tender gesture that I know is completely for the guests. He’s playing the Prince Charming role, but I prefer the Dirty Prince Who Promises to Get Royal Cum on My Face.
Then we hold hands as we walk inside. Large, round tables are arranged in a circular pattern, with an area reserved for dancing. The tables are white with intricate, gold centerpieces Liam tells me are made from spun sugar. There are glass bowls filled with floating, golden candles, and vases of dark blue wildflowers. Honestly, it’s beautiful.
He leads me to a long, white table where I notice with an unpleasant squirm that the king is already seated. His brothers sit on the king’s left side, with Lucian sitting closest to him. I eye the others with curiosity. They seem like a boisterous bunch.
I take my seat next to Liam, who pulls the chair back for me.
“Are you nervous? I’ve already got you once.”
“Good luck with getting me nine more times with everybody staring at us.”
Traditional Anglefell music plays in the background as the waiters approach with flutes of champagne. It’s all I can do to down the whole thing. The waiters begin serving the first course, which is some sort of soup with shells of pasta and roughly sliced carrots.
“It’s capon broth. Very traditional.”
What the fuck is a capon?
I try it, sipping the golden liquid. Chicken. It tastes just like chicken. We’re barely into the soup when guests begin rattling their silverware against the glasses. Liam puts down his spoon, and butterflies soar as he grabs my chin and kisses me. The crowd roars its approval as I feel like disappearing on the spot.
The courses fly from my table, arriving one at a time on white porcelain plates. There’s stuffed Cornish hens, steamed cod on a bed of seaweed, and many other local dishes sourced from the sea. It’s all delicious, and then finally Liam stands to cut the cake.
“Oh, I’m sorry!”
He pretends to trip over my dress, his hand momentarily squeezing my breast as though to catch his fall.
“I’m so sorry, love.” And then he drops his voice to a whisper. “Two.”
“Subtle. Very subtle.”
I take Liam’s hand as he leads me to the towering, white cake. Beautiful, soft-yellow daises made of fondant cling to the sides of the cake. Then I look at the bride and groom figurines at the top of the cake. The bride has a noticeably large bust.
“What the hell?”
Liam grins as the photographer makes his way through the guests. “I told the chef to enhance your bosom a little.”
“Hilarious.”
He touches the sculpture. “Three. Four.”
I snatch his hand away. “That does not count!”
“Sure it does. It’s a representation of you, so figuratively I’m touching your tits.”
“Figuratively doesn’t count!”
“It’s not my problem you didn’t make the rules ironclad.” He rips his hand from my grasp, laughing at my outrage. “Five.”
“Stop doing that!”
The guests gather around us, screaming for us to cut the cake. Liam grabs the knife and poses beside