Page 50 of Royal Fling
“I see,” I said. “But I hired this place. Surely we can claim anything we want.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Luke laughed. “It’s more fun when you earn your prizes. No matter how frustrating the games may be.”
He put his hands to my chest and planted a kiss on my lips.
“That's true,” I whispered, staring deep into his eyes, the fire building inside me and ready to explode at any moment now.
I placed my hands on the small of his back and pulled him to my body.
“Are you saying I'm a prize, Your Highness?”
“Never,” I said with a grin.
Luke gasped and slapped my cheek gently, the gesture reverberating through me like gasoline to the fire in my body.
“Oh no, mister. You don't get to distract me when we're in the arcade. If I couldn't have you at the London Eye, you can't have me here,” he said and pushed off me before I could do more dirty things to him.
He guided me to the bumper cars and proceeded to bump into my car repeatedly until I admitted defeat, and we came out.
With our drinks refilled, we finally went up to the ticket counter, and I looked at him.
“All right, now what?” I asked, and Luke laughed, making his way behind the counter, grabbing a cap from a prize display, and giving me a very butch smile.
“Well hello, sir. Here to claim your prize?” he asked in a deeper Southern twang than his usual accent.
“Yes. I beat my boyfriend's ass on every game here, so I’m here to stake my claim,” I answered in a fake American accent.
Luke didn’t miss a beat, although his eyes flared for a second. “Don't lie to us, sir. We have CCTV around here. We can see he clearly whooped your ass.”
“Well, I wouldn't say whooped. And what are you doing looking at us on your CCTV. Are you a pervert?” I asked.
“On occasion,” he replied with a wink. “We like to watch our guests,” he replied. “Now, let me see what you got.”
He grabbed the ticket stubs from my hands and put them into a machine that counted them.
“You’ve got some great things to choose from,” he said when it was done and looked around the counter trying to find the items that matched the value of my tickets.
He pointed to a row of cartoon watches, London souvenirs, and mini puzzles.
I glanced back at him and raised an eyebrow.
“Seriously? This is the best you've got?” I asked.
“Well, maybe you could have better prizes if you’d won more games,” he said, losing both his accent and his act for a moment.
“Let’s see,” I said. “Maybe I can claim my boyfriend's tickets as mine, too.”
I took them from the end of the counter and passed them to him.
“Oh, no, we don't allow that. That's illegal. You could be arrested for that.”
“Come on. That's a lie. You made that up,” I said.
“Do you think stealing is a lie, sir?” he asked. “Do you want to speak to the authorities, sir?”
He put his hand under the counter and retrieved a pink plastic flip-phone and brought one end to his ear.
“No,” I shouted. “I'm sure we can come to an arrangement.”
