Page 93 of Royally Rivalled

“Oh, that boy.” Alexandra giggled. “Rick was all prepared to play hardball with him about the dance. Instead, he was so polite and very, very effeminate. Later, we discovered she had gone with him because his parents hadn’t let him take his boyfriend. Narrow-minded assholes.”

“Rick’s mouth is rubbing off on you, Alexandra.”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologise. I like your salty vocabulary..”

“Go, Astrid. Go, be free. But just to be clear, Parker doesn’t factor into this?”

“I dunno. I want to stay with him, but who knows? He doesn’t even know where he’ll be in September. We’re just feeling it out. I love research, and my faculty thinks I am good at it. I worked so hard?—”

“Too hard to give up. And, as you always say, Deschamps girls don’t give up,” Alexandra asserted. “Go. Be brave!”

fifty-one

PARKER

I lovedto watch Astrid go down on me—as much asanyman might. But damn, she was inventive. Astrid on her knees was her new way to be incredibly generous. Plus, she insisted we do it before her mirror. Astrid’s cavernous bedroom was fit for a princess—massive windows, a bureau that was probably 500 years old, a walk-in wardrobe of epic proportions, and a very tasteful yet clearly princess bed. A sizeable mirror in the corner near the window allowed us to take full advantage of the view.

When I got home, I decided to invest in a mirror. It was annoying, yes, because you had to look at yourself and doubt your outfit of choice, but brilliant if you had a willing girlfriend to give you a head while enjoying a full side view. She was beautiful—not just because she gave this so freely. She was cheeky. I hung on to her every word.

I concentrated on the words she wasnotsaying when the door to the bedroom flung open, and two very young, impressionable girls took in the sight of what we were doing. Panic ensured. Astrid thankfully did not separate me from my cock, doing something akin to gagging as she attempted to scream at the uninvited guests to leave.

“Astrid, we are fucked!”

“They came through the bathroom and should have knocked,” Astrid said. “Wow, it does just… go.”

She stared at my now deflating manhood. Embarrassment flooded over me in waves.

“Astrid, focus! We havescarredthem.”

“This is a ‘fuck around and find out’ situation. I have warned them before not to come in without knocking.”

“Should someone not… do something?” I asked.

“I will speak with them,” Astrid said. “Give me a second.”

She pulled on a dressing gown and stormed out. By now, I’d pulled on my pants and climbed into her bed. It was odd. I never expected at twenty-seven to be in a canopy bed in a bloody palace waiting for my girlfriend to un-scar her princess-ly sisters.

Astrid returned, looking run down. As she did when overwhelmed and over it, she flopped on the bed and let out a tight growl.

“That bad? I’m so sorry, Astrid!”

“For what, mon lupin?” Astrid looked at the canopy. “For being amorous on a day, you were trying to distract me from all my complicated feelings about my bitch of a grandmother? For having a beautiful, perfect cock I cannot leave alone? For enjoying something anyone should?”

I was unsure how to answer.

Astrid looked over, “You Brits apologise for everything. Stop it.”

She pulled a face. Her silliness brought a smile to me, even under duress.

“What is that look for, Parker Westfall?”

“You look good at this angle.”

She smiled. “I love you. And I am sorry we got interrupted. They are sufficiently scarred, so we’re good for a bit.”

“What was that conversation about?”

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