Epilogue

Heidi

Eight Months Later

“A wise old owl lived in an oak.
The more he saw the less he spoke.
The less he spoke the more he heard.
Why can't we all be like that wise old bird?”

As Harry’s little eyes puttered closed, I blinked back the tears in my eyes.

Silly. That was what I was being. But every time I had rocked my beautiful two-month-old son to bed these past few weeks, it had happened. I got filled with so much love and gratitude for the life Charles and I had built together that I could hardly bear it.

The royal wedding was what the papers had called “the most extravagant and yet thrilling affair the English monarchy had ever seen.” There were doves released as we walked out to greet the public, flowers strewn everywhere by helicopters, not to mention even my mom and dad had been allowed to stay in the palace for weeks on end. I had showed them around the city, and they had fallen for Charles as quickly as I had.

Yes, nowadays my life was a beautiful dream. I got all the perks of being married to royalty while enjoying some of my old favorite activities too. As princess, I’d already been the feature of countless photo shoots with Charles, while Liza and I still went shopping and gossiping at least two times a week, if not more.

My modeling career hadn’t taken back off how it should have, but I’d found another passion. The charity work Charles did really made a difference. I’d held the hand of a girl whose life our donations had saved by providing enough bread for her to eat, and I’d felt the thrum deep in my heart that told me I’d found my next passion. While modeling would always be my first, that didn’t mean I had to stick with it until the bitter end. I didn’t need to mourn its loss perpetually like a dead child.

Like my counselor from high school taught me, life was equal parts opportunity and equal parts attitude. And I had lucked out more than I could’ve dreamed of in terms of the romance and riches aspect. So why cry over my spilled modeling career?

My new passion had beckoned from me in the saucer eyes of that small, still dirty-faced child, and I was going to answer the call—when I had the time of course.

The past few months had been a whirlwind of the wedding and etiquette classes with Queen Mary and her second-in-command, the almost as perilous Aunt Mabel. That, and the charity work, which grew my heart a bit more each time. Sure, part of our riches as nobles was just for us to spend and fritter away frivolously, but with the rest we were doing good. If that wasn’t something to be proud of, then I didn’t know what was.

It took me a few minutes to notice that little Harry’s chubby face was deep in slumber. This was another thing that happened lately. Spanning through the wonderful past eight months, I got lost in them. Stroking his cheek tenderly, I laid him in the gold-barred crib.

“Sleep well, my sweet boy. I love you more than you can know.”

With one final kiss on his impossibly smooth forehead, I went back into Charles’s and my bedroom. It was attached to Harry’s so I could get up when he started crying, though we did have a nanny for the few times Charles and I were too wiped out from the day’s events to deal with Harry’s squalling and needed help.

“Hello, love,” I said simply as I slipped into bed beside him.

He kissed me. “Hello, love. I missed you.”

That was slightly unnecessary and very cute, because the way his hands were sweeping over me already indicated it. Not to mention I’d been gone for all of thirty minutes, putting the baby to bed.

He paused his stroking to pull away the silk covers so he could take a better look at me.

“How did having a baby make you even hotter?”

I giggled. “Guess it did make me fatter. Is there something you want to tell me, Charles?”

He nodded gravely. His lips kissed the words into my ear: “I want to fuck you so badly tonight, we will break the bed.”

Before I knew what he was doing, his lips were smacking on my belly, feasting and licking and sucking their way up. Trembles broke through me. How was it I still got wetter than ever with this glorious, beautiful man? It was as if we’d met each other only eight days ago, not almost a year ago now.

When his lips finally settled under my shirt and on my nipple, a sort of cooing emerged from me. He slipped his hands up to my lips, and I closed them around his fingers desperately. Damn, did I want to taste him.

The sucking on my nipple sent long, agonizing strokes of pleasure up and down me. Or maybe it was his hands that were following the motions: stroke, stroke, stroke. When they settled down between my legs, I couldn’t wait any longer.

Thrusting him back, I kissed my way down his already bare chest. His erection was willing and waiting for me. I wasted no time teasing it. Instead, I went for the good stuff. I threw my lips around it so that the tip mashed into the back of my throat.

Charles grunted with gratification, but I had hardly even started. I swirled my tongue and lips up, down, and around the gloriously hard pillar. Every movement of my tongue and lips was suffused with so much love, I could hardly stand it. My mouth and tongue moved in new ways. With Charles, there wasn’t a wrong thing I could do or say. Our bodies just worked together.

While I concentrated my oral adoration on the tip of his dick, I pumped his shaft for all it was worth. His breathing grew labored. When I cupped his balls, it was his turn to push me away.

“Okay, you asked for it.”

His voice was a growl. Pouncing on me, he pinned down my arms as he thrust himself into me. He stabbed a groan right out of me.

Looking down at me, like a predator on prey, a smile flickered over his face.

“That’s more like it.”

My eyes fluttered closed as sensation overtook me. Every one of his thrusts was like another “I love you.” They were so slow, so painstakingly slow, and yet intentional too. It was as if he had control over every micro-movement of every part of his body, as if he wanted to get every part of him in the game of giving pleasure to every part of me.

And so, in and out became the most beautiful of dances for us. In and out, in deep and in deeper. He pierced my depths and created my moans. He stroked my face and growled, “Look at me when I fuck you.”

When I opened my eyes, the look I saw in his slayed me. It was adoration.

Charles was looking at me with absolute adoration radiating off his every pore. I trembled with it, my orgasm blossoming into a premature full bloom.

Sensing it, Charles peeled himself out and then threw himself in with vigor.

Both of us spasmed with it, with our “I bloody love yous,” with eager pelvises clenching and throats crying, tears actually spilling out of my eyes. As my release choked me with its power, I knew.

My life was perfect. It was everything I’d ever wanted. I was the luckiest woman in the world, maybe even the universe.

Afterward, our words were a continuation of the strokes. More adoration, more love, dripped off every word.

“You’re pretty good at sex, you know that?” I joked.

Charles’s hand jerked over to grasp my chin.

“Pretty good?” he challenged.

“Okay,” I admitted, “maybe I haven’t come like that in…well, ever. Maybe you’re a sex god.”

Charles patted my cheek and released my chin.

“That’s more like it. After all, you’re crazy sexy yourself, wife.”

“Wife,” I repeated to myself.

I enjoyed the sound of the word. It was still new to me, and it felt wonderful. It contained all of the love and possession Charles felt for me. He was my man, my rock. He was the funny, handsome man who had fought for me more than I’d thought anyone would’ve. Not to mention he was the prince I’d had a crush on since I was ten. Crazy, but true.

“Am I going to jinx things if I say that our lives can’t get any better?” Charles wondered aloud.

I kissed him on the shoulder.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Don’t limit things. Just because we’re the happiest we’ve been doesn’t mean we can’t be even happier someday.”

Charles aimed his happy glance at the door that led to Harry’s room.

“Good point. I’m sure when I get you that pony—”

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want a pony!” I declared with a laugh.

“You haven’t given Paint a chance,” Charles whined.

I responded with a kiss to his chin.

“The things I do for my husband.”

Charles’s hand slid down to give my breast a tweak.

“The things I do for my wife.”

We turned so that our heads were twisted uncomfortably but still facing each other. It had gotten to the point that when I was with him, my grins got painful big, but I didn’t care. This was what love was: talking and laughing together into the wee hours, waking up exhausted and not caring. It was all because you were in love, and that was all that needed to be there.

A knock on the door had us sitting up.

“Wait there,” Charles told me, pulling on his bathrobe. “I’ll get it.”

After few quiet words with whoever was behind the cracked door, he closed it and returned.

“That was Mother.”

My heart settled into the bottom of my chest. The etiquette classes had been getting more intense as of late. What had she told him?

“She says you’re fit to be royal!”

I sat up straight, throwing my arms around him.

“She said you did everything to a tee,” he continued jubilantly. “That even she was pleasantly surprised.”

I almost felt like passing out on the spot. Impressing Queen Mary seemed like climbing Mount Everest in a bikini. And yet, I’d done it!

“You know what this means…” Charles said.

“What?”

His hand snaked around to my ass and gave it a good squeeze.

“This is cause for celebration. Round two.”

As his member swept into me and a glorious smile bloomed on my lips, my body awoke to him.

***The End***

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