our room. It’s a small bedroom with a vanity, bed, and attached bathroom. The furniture is feminine, white, and dainty.
Only one bed.
I sit down on the mattress to remove the heels. Deep red marks wrap around my feet. Liam sits on the chair, removing his shoes.
“So the only time we’ll have privacy is when we’re indoors?”
“Pretty much.” He leans over his knees, his lips pulling into a smirk. “You have to admit the thrill of getting caught is fun.”
“I wouldn’t call it a thrill.”
Goose bumps prick my flesh as he stands, darkness swirling in his eyes. He touches my cheek, and I realize how much I crave him. His fingers slide around, gripping my hair as he forces me backward with his weight. The buttons of his shirt dig into my skin as he leans over me, his mouth seizing my lips. He kisses me bruisingly. I’m stunned by the heat flaring across my chest. The hold on my hair loosens as he slips against my body. I arch myself into his touch, and he breaks from my lips, smiling.
He grabs my ass before sliding underneath my dress and flipping it over my waist.
“Thank God for dresses and easy access to pussy.”
“I am not easy.”
“No shit.”
I gasp as he yanks my panties down, ripping them off my feet. Then he kneels on the floor, spreading my legs open. I jerk violently when his hot kiss touches my thigh.
“What are you doing?”
Oh my God. His tongue.
He spreads his hand over my stomach, holding me down.
“Lie back and think of America.”
Seven
Prince Liam’s Gallant Rescue
Liam
My wife snores.
It’s not a gentle, cute little sound either. It’s like a freight train, blaring its horn, shaking the very ground. I can forgive that minor detail, because she’s naked. Her tits are in my hands.
Princess Daisy’s tits. They fit so well.
She rolls onto her back, her snoring cutting off suddenly as she stretches her arms over her head, blue piercing me as she flutters her eyes. She may be an insufferable American, but I know I’ll have a hard time giving her up. We fuck like teenagers, and maybe it’s the honeymoon, but I’ve never had it this bad for a girl.
Daisy smiles, rubbing her eyes.
“When we get back to the castle, I’m fucking you on the throne.”
“What?” she says in sleepy alarm. “No.”
“Yes.”
There’s something incredibly erotic about imagining those beautiful tits bouncing as she rides my cock on that throne. It would be the biggest disgrace—far beyond anything I’ve ever done.
“Do you think about anything but fucking?”
“You were the one who wanted a purely sexual relationship. I’m just trying to keep my word.”
Her eyes roll into her head as she slides out of bed and opens her laptop. She scrolls through her emails. A small pang hits my chest when I see the smile fall from her face.
“How long do you think it’ll be before I can go home?”
I rip back the sheets. “I’ve no idea. I’m not God.”
She lets out a frustrated sigh, gazing at the screen again. Why does it bother me that she misses home? Anyone would. But it does. It needles at my chest as I take a shower without her. When I step out, she’s still on that damn laptop, typing away.
I want her to like this place. Fuck me, but it’s important. I can’t stand the thought of her going home and telling her friends how shitty it was here, how we’re all savages without the right to vote and how there aren’t cheeseburgers. I imagine their shocked gasps. No hot dogs either? Motherfucker! How do people eat?
“Liam, look at this.”
“I told you I don’t give a shit about tabloids.”
“No, it’s not that.”
I towel myself off and walk toward her, squinting at the screen. There’s an email from ACD News requesting an interview. Daisy turns in her chair, wide-eyed.
“No.”
“But it could—”
“No interviews, Daisy.”
I spin her chair around and pin her between my arms. Then I kiss the scowl between her eyes, which soften as I pull away. Her cheeks go pink as her gaze roves over my bare chest.
She can’t get enough of my cock.
“We’ve got one more stop before our amazing honeymoon tour comes to a close.”
“Where to?”
“To a fishing village on the coast called Puddleberry. The press will be there to photograph us.”
Daisy nods, biting her lip savagely. I hate the fear on her face. I feel responsible for it.
“Okay.”
“We’ll be fishing.”
She blanches. “That’ll be a first.”
Oh God.
“Fishing is a huge part of Anglefell culture. Just hold the