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“Whatever you want, my darling.”
* * *
After their walk around the grounds the night before, Paris and Alex had joined the rest of the family in the living room. When they walked in, the fireplace was crackling away, Joseph was watching intently as the King and Mathias finished up their latest chess match, and Catriona was sitting at a piano, gently playing a piece by Ravel that Paris' brother had taught her when she was little. Paris felt her heart swell with happiness, and couldn't help herself as she sat down next to Cat and began to play an accompaniment in a higher key.
Soon, the men were all standing around the piano, watching as Cat and Paris played the song in perfect harmony. When the piece came to an end, Cat laughed a long, sweet laugh and gathered Paris in a huge hug, kissing her softly on the forehead.
“My boys have never expressed an interest in music! I can't believe you know the piece!”
Paris ran her fingers across the keys, struck by how smooth and perfect they were. She'd never touched such a perfect instrument in her life. She knew when she spoke, her voice came out as a whisper, but she was still in awe.
“Pavane pour une infante défunte. My brother is a musician. Ravel is one of his favorites.”
All at once, Paris was overcome with sadness. She missed her brother, and realized she hadn't spoken to him in days—him or her sister. They must have been so worried. Both Cat and Alex saw the sorrow in Paris' eyes, but Cat spoke up first.
“Don't you worry sweet girl. In just a few days, this will all be over and you can let your family know what is going on. I'm sure they miss you very much too.”
In an effort to control the “story,” as it were, palace communications had been on a lockdown, preventing Paris from calling home.
Alex cleared his throat, drawing all attention in the room to him.
“There's no need to wait a few days. I've made up my mind, and I don't plan on changing it. I know this is going to cause problems, and I am more than willing to do anything I can to help abate it, but I am not going to marry Whitney. I don't love Whitney. I never have, and I never will.”
The King raised his hand to stop his son from continuing, but Alex kept going.
“Father, let me finish. We've done things a certain way here for a very long time, and it's time to change. From this day forward, for me, for Joseph, for Mathias, for whoever comes next, the royals of Dalvana should be allowed to marry for love. I don't love Whitney. But I do love Paris. And whatever happens next, that's all that matters to me.”
The room was dead silent but for the gentle crackling of the fireplace.
It was quiet enough that everyone heard Paris whisper, “I love you, too.”
* * *
Later that night, after the rest of the house had gone to sleep, Alex snuck from the family's wing to the guest quarters, hoping to find Paris awake and willing to talk.
As he approached the heavy oak door, he was suddenly grateful for the far distance between the wings of the palace, knowing how his parents would disapprove of an evening visit in this manner. Though, he thought wryly, it was a bit late for that.
He rapped lightly on the door and waited, hearing slight movement inside.
When Paris finally opened the door, Alex almost growled audibly with desire at the sight of her. Was his mother trying to torture him by giving Paris a negligee like that?
Paris was dressed in a white silk chemise that just brushed the tops of her thighs and which was nearly translucent with the light shining behind her. Alex could see the faintest outline of her areolas through the thin fabric and the darker ‘V’ at the juncture of her thighs. Her riotous mane of curls framed her lovely face like a halo. She was an angel come to earth.
“God, do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” His voice was thick with desire.
Paris looked down at her bare feet, embarrassed, and unused to hearing anything of the sort. She didn’t know how to respond. But then, she didn’t have to as his hands lightly touched her face, turning it towards him in the light.
He bent his head and lightly brushed his lips against her own, kissing her softly, nipping lightly, and letting his fingers run through her hair and then down her back and over her front so that her nipples poked slightly against the silk chemise. Paris opened her mouth, letting the heat of his kisses melt any resistance she might have had.
Paris pressed closer to him, letting herself fall into his embrace and his broad chest. She felt his cock through his trousers harden in response. She closed her eyes and exhaled as he gently, expertly, caressed her breasts with his fingers.
His hands slipped lower running along the silky chemise and over her curvy backside, massaging her rear and pressing her close to him.
Together, they somehow managed to stumble into the room and shut the door, the urgency of their need growing stronger with every touch and heated sigh. Paris reached out and grabbed the bulge in Alex's pants. In the dim lights of the room, illuminated only by the moon hanging over the still lake and a small oil lamp on the bedside, the shadows played over the deep curves of Paris's body.
"Should we be doing this here, with your parents–?" Paris managed to gasp out.
"Probably not," he murmured. It didn't stop their urgent movements as they reached for each other.
Alex slowly eased the spaghetti straps of Paris’ nightgown off her shoulders. Paris released his throbbing erection as she lowered the waistband of his trousers and undid his zipper. Their clothes landed in a heap on the floor, and the pair was heedless of the delicate and expensive fabrics as they kicked them aside.
Ducking his head, Alex closed his mouth over one tight little nipple and began sucking the small bud, sending tingles through Paris’ body. The heat generated between them by their friction left a glow of sweat over their bodies.
Alex's palm was open as he circled her breasts gently, rolling the tip between his finger and his thumb, causing Paris to gasp with pleasure.
As she swooned with the sensations, Alex gathered her in his arms and laid her gently on the bed, spreading her legs wide as he knelt between them. He used his fingers to spread her nether lips and lowered his mouth to suck on the little bud between her thighs. Her knees fell open as she gave herself to him completely. He put his tongue where his mouth had been, flicking it back and forth until Paris began to squirm and gasp out.
Paris threaded her fingers through his hair and began to pump her pelvis rhythmically in time with his thrusting tongue. It wasn't more than a minute later when she cried out with her release, writhing with pleasure.
Alex had reached his own state of overwhelming need, and he knelt over her, his cock at the same level as her pussy. Paris grasped his cock at the root to guide it toward her entrance. They moaned together as he sheathed himself to the hilt.
She grasped his shoulders, drawing him close to her, as he plunged himself in and out of her tight pussy. Her legs encircled his hips as they thrust and she drew him in deeper with every gliding motion.
He was raining kisses over her face, her neck, her breasts, as she shuddered and gasped beneath him. His thrusting became more urgent and Paris could feel a tightness building deep within her core. She returned his thrusts, bucking against him, working feverishly toward her own climax.
Alex thrust in several more times, splaying her legs wide to give him deeper access in her tight channel. They clung to each other gasping as he gave one last downward stroke, remaining inside of her and crying out. Their climax came together as his cock and her pussy throbbed in unison, and Alex collapsed on top of her, fully sated.
It was several minutes before either of them moved, each struggling to regain their breath and still their pounding hearts. Alex gently pulled away from her, turning her as he did so to cradle her in his arms. He brushed his lips over the top of her forehead and smoothed her hair. Paris looked up at him, smiling, and buried her face in his chest.
They lay like that for an hour, silent, with the low water lapping gen
tly on the shore outside, lulling them to a half-slumber, until Alex stirred beside her.
“Wait—I almost forgot.”
“What is it?”
Alex rolled over, grabbing his trousers and fishing a small, delicate box from the pocket. He turned back to Paris, who was on her side, watching him curiously.
“This is what I actually came here to do—until you distracted me, that is.”
He held the box out to her and slowly opened it. Paris’ eyes widened as she saw what lay inside. It was the most flawless diamond ring she had ever seen—large, but not too ostentatious, delicate with vintage scrollwork along the sides.
“What—what are you doing…?” Her voice wavered and she sat up, backing into the headboard.
“Paris—I should have done this with fireworks, and violins, and everything else you deserve—but I don’t want to wait. I know we haven’t known each other long, but it’s long enough to know I never want to live without you. Will you marry me?”
Paris blinked. Twice.
Her mouth was dry, and she looked back at him, and then back at the ring.
Her mind was warring with itself, unable to comprehend what was happening. Had she fallen in love with this man? Yes, wholly and unexpectedly. Was she ready to give up her dreams of becoming a doctor? Of living a normal life? She wasn’t sure.
Alex was looking at her expectantly, and the silence between them loomed large.
“Ummm, Can I think about it?” Paris managed to croak out.
