“You don’t want to be a king?” she asks, all but daring me to be her king.
“I want to be your king, but you’re not a queen yet,” I clarify. No other queen will do.
“Hmm,” she moans as my fingers trace up her legs, over her hips, to her belly. I stop at the swell of her breasts. Holding them in my hands, I squeeze and caress them gently before pulling on her dark nipples. Her skin is sun kissed, and I can’t help leaning down and kissing each peak before sucking and biting them until they are rigid. “Stop teasing me. Let me see you,” she says, reaching her hands into boxers.
I let her explore. The thrill of her hands on me has no comparison. Nothing will ever be the same again. I know that. I knew that the moment I laid eyes on her.
“You are so beautiful,” I murmur.
Moving back from her, I can’t wait a second longer. I have to claim her. I part her pussy and rub it, finding it already wet. Shoving my boxers down, I lift her legs, wrapping them around my waist.
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, giving her a chance to change her mind.
“Don’t you dare,” she says, grinning at me. Gripping my dick, I line it up with her opening and slide into her. She’s torturously tight, and I love it.
I break through her cherry, but I can’t slow down. She moans and digs her heels in my ass, and I keep going. Over and over, I slam into her. Her shudders of pleasure under me are too much to bear. She moans my name over and over. Reaching between us, I rub her clit under her pussy tightens even more around me. “Walt!” she screams, and I’ve never loved my name more than when she says it.
I fill her with my seed; my only thought is breeding her. I have no idea if she’s on birth control or not, but it doesn’t matter. She’s mine. I’m blessed that this is the only pussy I’ll ever know; at some point, I’ll tell her that. Tell her that I waited for my wife too.
I take her again several more times before the flight is over the sixteen-hour flight time. We had to make two refueling stops and a pilot change halfway there. We just landed, and we’re getting dressed. To say that I am nervous about meeting a king is nothing compared to how nervous I am at meeting Irina’s father. I know that they are the same person, but over the years, I’ve met many members of royal families but never someone so important as the father of the woman I love. That’s right. Somewhere over the Atlantic, I fell utterly in love with her. How could I not? She’s perfect for me.
“I love you,” I tell her as I zip her dress back up. “It might be insane, but I do.”
“Well, that’s good, because I love you too. Who cares if it’s crazy? What we do is our business. I am a thousand percent sure that we were destined to meet tonight and that we’re destined to be a whirlwind romance. It’s all that midnight magic.”
“Midnight magic?”
“The magic of New Year’s Eve. You’ve got your Christmas magic, sure, but everyone forgets about the magic that ushers in the new year. It’s all those kisses. It sparks something amazing.”
“Midnight magic and kisses?”
“That’s right. Don’t mock me. I swear, it’s real. It has to be.”
“I’m not mocking; I just can’t help it. You are too adorable for words.” She laughs and steps back into her heels. “Ready?”
“Yes,” I tell her, taking her hand and leading her off of the plane.
“Welcome to Solaria. Where hedonism is life.”
“What a motto.”
“The tourism board came up with it.”
“It’s interesting.”
“Well, it’s true. I think Solaria would be the baby Amsterdam and Las Vegas would have after a drunken one-night stand.”
“Okay. I can’t wait to see it.”
She giggles, and we get into a Bentley driven by a regally dressed chauffeur. We wind our way up a mountain to a large courtyard in front of an even larger palace. I am helping her out of the car when the doors to the palace open.
“Papa!” Irina shouts as she runs up the steps and into the older man’s arms.
“Irina, darling. Welcome home.”
“What’s the big emergency?” she asks.
“Who’s this?” he asks instead of answering her. He gestures for me to come over there.
“I am Walter Wade, IV from New York.”
“And who are you to my daughter.”
“Her fiancé,” I say, the lie coming off my tongue easily.
“Excellent.”
“Why is that excellent?”
“I’m dying, my girl. I called you home to get you married off before I do. You know our grand customs require me to be alive to pass the crown.”
“I do, but what are you dying of?”