Page 76 of Royally Drawn

Isnuck into the house in the wee hours by taxi from the palace. Yes, even princes could take a taxi ride. That was what you needed to do when you overstayed the night before in the room of a devilish blonde you’d fucked over a desk and then up against the wall before finally retreating to the bed. I was havingfartoo much fun with Ingrid but wanted to keep the peace at home.

I crept up the backstairs, changed, and looked fresh for breakfast. No one even asked if I’d slept there that night. And, as long as Leah didn’t squawk, I was home free. If someone knew, they didn’t say much. Instead, I got out of it scot-free. This lack of consequences only increased my desire to bemorereckless. We boarded a cruise around Oslofjord with all the other royals. It was another excuse to see Ingrid.

I approached her on deck, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and kissing her cheek. She faced me.

“Hello again.”

“Hello. You look beautiful in this dress. What is this?”

“Versace,” Ingrid said.

“It’s hot as hell.”

Her tits looked great, and the blue in the dress brought out thecolour in her eyes. We were supposed to cruise, take in the light fading, and head back to port.

“I’m bored,” I said. “Fancy running off?”

She shook her head. “Keir, we cannot just run off to shag without impunity all the time.”

“So far, so good.”

She bit her lip, thinking about it. If she was thinking about it, she wanted to do it. Usually, if Ingrid wanted to do something—or someone--she would.

“Be quick about it,” Ingrid said.

I wasn’t about to full-on fuck her here. I hoped to get the satisfaction of getting her off in a hallway or something. The fear of potential discovery made it all more exciting, but she was plenty good enough. We disappeared below deck into a stateroom where we snogged like horny teens at the cinema. Then, things got hotter, full of longing, and more intense. She hopped up onto the bed but didn’t lie back. Instead, she wrapped her legs around me. Ingrid’s breath picked up. I pulled her dress down to suck on her nipple. She whimpered, and I knew she must be dripping through her knickers.

She took my hand and slipped it up her dress, pressing it to her clit. Through her panties, I could tell she was soaking.

“Let’s take these off,” I said.

“Okay. But I don’t want you to fuck up my hair,” Ingrid said. “I do want you to get me off. But don’t destroy my hair.”

I thought about options momentarily before saying, “Why don’t you sit on my face?”

Her jaw dropped. “I’m… I’m sorry…. What?”

I ran my hand through her hair, gripping it by her scalp. “Are you too scandalised to trust me, princess?”

“I… I don’t know how?”

I let her go, climbing on the bed. I reclined and reached out for her hand. She held back, still confused or scandalised.

“Trust me. You’re going to leave hereveryhappy.”

Ingrid didn’t respond verbally but took her knickers off—a signal she gave over to whatever I was about to do to her. Or, instead, what she would do to me.

“We really shouldn’t do this,” Ingrid said, voice soft.

She wasn’t saying no. Her desire overrode any worries she had. But that guilt kicked in.

“Do you want to be a good girl?”

“Is that good? Like you saying devastating, horrid things to me in a church?” She straddled me, her body now pressing into my very hard, very obvious erection.

Debating her was torturous. Her tits in this dress were so fabulous. I thought about what it would feel like to throw her on the bed—how they’d nearly hit her in the face and how her face would flush. Fucking her with a dress on was a treat—one that made me feel like I corrupted her in the best way.

“I don’t pretend to be good. I also think you should suspend your Catholic guilt for a minute so I can give you an amazing orgasm.”

---