I’m still so furious with him, but that anger makes me want to just tear his stupid clothes off and―

Rikard carries me into our master suite, kicking the door closed behind me with his foot. He crosses the room, and once I feel his knees reach our large bed, he drops me onto the satiny comforter, and growls. Suddenly, I feel a lot less mad about things when he smirks down at my body, his eyes filled with heat.

Why is he wearing a suit? He got back from fighting in a battle, and he changed into a suit at three o’clock in the morning? Who does that?

Then he reaches up and undoes his tie, and his wrists and hands look so tantalizingly hot as he does it, that I no longer care how impractical it is.

I lick my lips. I took the wedding dress off earlier when I was waiting for him to return, and am just wearing a “regular” dress―one that is ten times nicer than anything I used to wear before I became a princess.

“Princess Jane,” he says huskily through his lust-filled smile. “I finally have you right where I want you.”

“I’m still mad,” I say. “You didn’t want me mad at you, did you?”

“Maybe just a little,” he says, throwing his tie onto his shoulder.

Next he removes his jacket and places it on an empty hanger in the closet, and then he slowly puts the tie into a box. What is wrong with him? Why is he suddenly a neat freak?

“Are you going to neatly fold up all of your clothes?” I ask.

He laughs. “I’m just trying to make you a little bit more angry, so you’ll want me even more.”

"We've already waited long enough," I huff. If he's trying to make me more mad, it's working.

He’s such a dick.

I could at least take my dress off while I wait for him to dick around, but then again, I’d rather have him tear it off me. I’ve fantasized a fair bit about what tonight would be like, and it definitely involved Prince Rikard tearing my clothes off.

He begins slowly and methodically unbuttoning his shirt, all the while watching me. He slowly runs his eyes up my body, then he locks eyes with me. “Remove your panties, my princess.”

I bite my lip.

“Why are you hesitating?”

“I...can you take the rest off, if I do?” I ask.

He nods.

I reach beneath my dress, careful not to let it ride up, and I slowly slide my panties from my body and down my legs. When I look down, I see there’s a wet spot on them, and Rikard grins.

“Looks like you’ve been waiting impatiently, my princess.”

“It’s because you’re teasing me, Dick!” I shout.

He laughs. “You can stop calling me ‘Dick’ now that everyone knows who I am.”

“Well, you’ve been acting like a dick, so the name suits you,” I say.

“I think you’re just the right amount of mad,” he says.

I pull the panties all the way off and throw them at him. He catches them in one hand, and then brings the wet spot up to his face and sniffs in. I cross my legs before he can see me.

“Ah,” he says. “You really want me to tear that dress off you, don’t you? And I will, now that I’ve smelled you.”

My face burns red, but my pussy is even wetter now. I want him so bad, and I’m getting more and more impatient. He only had three shirt buttons undone, and he’s still wearing his pants and belt.

“Can you please take your clothes off?” I say, impatience oozing into my voice.

He slowly moves his hands up to the next button, and he gives me the impression he’s going to spend a full minute gently undoing each button. Without warning, he just tears the shirt, and the buttons fly off, exposing his rippling six-pack abs and completely baring his broad chest. He throws the shirt to the floor.

“Is that better for you, my princess?”

“Yes,” I say. “Much better.”

He whips his belt off just as quickly, and then drops his pants for me. His cock is thick and huge, and it’s threatening to burst through his briefs. I knew it was huge when I felt it pressed against me in the weight room, but seeing it is another thing entirely.

“Now let’s get that dress off you,” he says, all but lunging at me.

I try to get away from him―like some defense instinct―and he grabs me by the waist and pulls.

The straps pull on my shoulders, and then rip off. The top of the dress pulls down and catches against my bra, and Rikard tugs even harder. I feel his knuckles pressing into my ass through the fabric as he pulls.

I gasp as the dress yanks my hips up. My shoulders fall flat against the bed, and he pulls harder to get the material out from under my back.

It all bunches up around my waist, and I feel my nipples harden as the cooler air hits my breasts, but the bra is still covering them.

Rikard adjusts his grip, digging his fingers below the fabric. I feel his skin on my skin, just below the soft sides of my waist. He pulls harder, and my belly is exposed. The dress catches on my butt―it looks like a skirt now.

I wait for him to tear it all the way off, but instead, he pulls back and grips my ankle. He grips me like he owns me, or at least I like to think of it like that. I smile up at him.

“Not mad anymore?” he asks.

Just him asking me that question makes me flare with anger.

“That’s better,” he says, running his large hands up my calves.

I start to spread my legs, hoping he’ll just go all the way up. He’s standing, and because he’s tall, he can’t see up my dress, but as his hands trail up my legs, the dress rides up further and further, exposing my knees and lower thighs.

I study his rock-hard abs as he squeezes my thighs, slowly moving his hands up further and further. My dress slides up with his hands, and soon my legs are entirely exposed, but just before my shaved pussy becomes visible, Rikard stops.

I let out an impatient moan, urging him to continue, but his eyes are now focused on my breasts.

“Take it off,” he says.

I didn’t even realize I’d started moving, but somehow my hands are already on the clasps. I unhook the bra and let it drape over my breasts.

Now it’s his turn to become impatient.

“All the way off,” he growls, licking his lips.

I give him an evil smirk, and then I slowly pull the bra away.

His eyes widen as he takes in my hard, pointed nipples. He lunges forward, his hands sliding from my thighs and up the curves of my hips. His fingers graze the flesh of my ass cheeks, and then his hands dip down into my waist.

I let out a low moan as his rough, calloused hands run their way up my body, across my belly, until they at last cup the soft mounds of my sensitive breasts.

I squirm as he squeezes me, and I can tell that my pussy is soaking wet. With no panties to contain the wetness, it is even harder to bear.

His strong, princely hands massage and knead my breasts, but my nipples remain untouched. Just when I think I can’t stand waiting a moment longer, he brushes a finger over my hardened nipple, and my hips buck up wildly in response.

“Ah,” he says. “Wasn’t it worth waiting for?”

I just groan. He’s made me wait so long, and my patience is running out. I already had to wait all night for him to come home, and now he’s tricking me into thinking I just wanted him to touch my nipples? My pussy is soaking wet, and he’s just ignoring it. He doesn’t even have his boxers off yet, for God’s sake.

He laughs as I pout and writhe, and he squeezes my nipples so hard that electrical currents run through my body. Just before I speak again, he presses his lips against my breast, licked up my flesh until he lands squarely on my nipple. He locks his lips around it and sucks, and it almost feels good enough to make me forget that he’s teasing me. Almost.

I dig my nails into his powerful, muscled arms, and then I reach down his back to squeeze his ass. I slide a hand into his boxers, cupping the muscular flesh of his butt cheek in my right hand. I nearly expect him to pull my hand away for rushing him, but he’s so focused on sucking my nipple that he doesn’t stop me.

Waves of pleasure pulse through me in sharp peaks. Each time the feeling hits its apex, I lose control of my hands. Soon, the pulsing becomes so frequent that I pull my hands away and just wrap my arms around his body to hold on.

“Please, please,” I hear myself whispering and moaning. Pleading.

It feels so good, but my throbbing wetness has truly become unbearable. I won’t feel any relief―only greater and greater longing―until he touches me where I need him to.

“Whatever you want, my princess,” he says.

And without warning, his hand grabs my thigh and slides up. I look up to see him smirking at me. He slides back away from my breasts, and then I see him disappear under my skirt.

My adrenaline spikes through the roof In anticipation of what is about to happen, like that feeling you get when the roller coaster has reached the first peak but hasn’t started going down yet.

Then his tongue touches my hot, wet center, and the coaster catapults down the hill, leaving my stomach behind.

“Dick!” I shout out, as his tongue presses warm and wet against my over-swollen clit. I could not care less what I call him at this point.

His lips press against me, and he feverishly sucks and tongues my clit with the perfect amount of suction and pressure.

I nearly die―or more accurately―I nearly cum straight away. I have to flex the muscles in my thighs and stomach and count backward from ten to one to fight off my pending orgasm. It’s not that I don’t want to cum, it’s just that I want to enjoy this for longer than thirty seconds.

His hands grip my thighs, and so I squeeze them against his head, making sure he stays put with his tongue where it is. I don’t need him teasing me a moment more. Getting me just on the cusp of orgasm, and then pulling away is totally something that Dick would do, and I don’t plan on letting him do it.

“Yes,” I say as he flicks my clit with his tongue. “Rikard…yes, just like that, don’t stop.”

For once he listens to me. He keeps going, and the orgasm I held back earlier begins building up again with renewed intensity.

“You really,” I say, gasping, “seriously cannot stop now.”

I can tell that if he just keeps doing this, it will feel better than anything I’ve ever felt before in my life.

“I won’t be mad at you,” I say. “For leaving me―” A moan interrupts what I was saying, and I gasp for breath.

In answer, he grips me harder with his hands and dedicates all his effort to making me feel good. My eyes roll back in my head as the first rumblings of orgasm wash across me, making all of my muscles feel warm and cozy.

“Yes,” I scream out, a big smile filling my face. I tilt my head back and look up at the ornately carved and painted ceiling of the Prince’s chambers.

“Oh,” I moan. “Ah―I’m-I’m―”

But I don’t need to tell him that I’m cumming. He can surely feel it. He can feel and taste the surge of wetness gushing out of me, though he can’t feel the convulsions resonating deep within me. It seems almost―almost―like a waste, for my inner walls to squeeze and pulse like that without Rikard’s royal dick buried inside me. I imagine my pussy milking and coaxing his princely seed out of his cock, which makes me cum even harder.

“Ahh!” I shout. “Oh, God!”

My hips shoot skyward, and Rikard does his best to stay on me, his tongue never missing a beat.

My arms give out, and my shoulders drop to the bed. I swing my arms wildly as the orgasm completely devours me―it eats my consciousness away until I exist as nothing but a brilliant and shining pulse of ecstasy. I float in that moment for just long enough that it becomes too good to bear, and then I come out on the other side of it hearing my own voice screaming at the top of its lungs. It’s as if it’s not even my voice, but as the orgasm begins dying down, and as I re-enter my body, my throat is hoarse and sore, and I know it really was me screaming.

I have to push Rikard away from me, to stop him from licking my oversensitive clit. I see a huge wet spot on the bed marking where I came, and then notice Rikard’s evil grin as he looks down at it.

I collapse flat on my back, looking up at the ceiling. It feels like my brain needs to reboot. I can’t talk or concentrate on anything. The afterglow subdues me and keeps me down. I can’t even spare the energy to look back up at my prince. I simply lay there and lose track of everything―even time.

When I finally have some energy, I look up. Rikard is standing there at the side of the bed, completely naked now. His royal dick is rock-hard, huge, and pointed straight up. It’s so big it covers his lower abs and belly button, and the prominent veins are so thick I can see every contour from more than five feet away.

He’s gazing down at me, waiting more patiently than I could have.

I suddenly remember the desire to feel my pussy milking his cock when it’s buried deep within me, and despite my utter exhaustion, a warmth grows between my legs. Actually the warmth is already there because I’m still soaking wet from my mind-bending orgasm.

I lock eyes with Rikard, and he must see it in my eyes, sense that I want him inside me. Without either of us saying a word, he climbs onto the bed. He crawls on his knees closer to me, and I find myself spreading my legs to make space for him.

“Good princess,” he says.

Now that he’s closer, his cock looks even bigger. It’s way bigger than anything I’ve ever had before, to the point I fear it may not even fit inside me.

“You like calling me Dick?” he asks, holding his dick in one hand as if it was the sword that bound us together at our wedding.

I blush and say, “I don’t know. It just sounded right when you were…”

He grins. “I never understood American nicknames. How does Richard become Dick? They don’t even sound similar.”

I had never really thought about it. “Dick is an old name,” I say. “Few people your age even have it―”

“I know,” he says. “But few people have a dick this impressive,” he says, grinning at me.

It would sound cocky if I wasn’t looking at his dick, now hovering just inches away from my pussy. It really is that good, but I won’t know for sure until I’ve experienced how good he can use it.

He slaps his cock onto my outer lips, which are still soaking wet.

“I love making you cum, Jane,” he growls. “It’s going to feel so good to slide myself into that hot and tight soaking wet pussy.”

I bite my lip, still worried he’ll be too big for me. I wrap my legs around him and press into him with my heels, urging him on.

He leans forward and kisses me, and as the kiss consumes my attention, I feel pressure between my legs.

My eyes roll back in my head as my pussy lips part for him. I feel us sliding together, wet and warm and tight, and then it becomes really tight.

There’s a sharp pain, and I gasp out.

He slows down, and I gasp to catch my breath.

“It hurt?” he asks.

“You’re big,” I say.

“Try to relax,” he says. “You’re made me for, Jane. It will fit perfectly.”

He sounds so serious about it, and convincing. I do relax, and I feel his cock sliding in deeper. It’s still tight, but the pain is barely there. His cock drives in deeper and deeper, coating itself with my juices. It’s so tight I can feel the veins pressing and throbbing against my inner walls, and finally he slides all the way in, and his balls brush against me.

“There we are,” he says.

I wrap my legs more tightly around his waist, just wanting to feel him deep inside me―to feel us together like this.

But now it’s Rikard who’s impatient. His hips begin to buck, and his thick cock slides out of me. I see it coated white in my cum, and just when he’s almost all the way out, he drives it right back in. The pain is gone now; it’s too wet and feels too damn good to hurt.

It gets warmer and the friction feels so good as he slides in and out of me, and I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders. I clutch onto him with my legs and arms, just wanting to open myself up to him and let him fuck me. Nothing could feel better than this, not even his tongue on my clit.

The feeling isn’t as sharp and intense as Rikard going down on me, but it feels right, and I know how good it must feel for him. I squeeze my inner walls against him as he fucks me, and he starts to thrust faster.

He grunts, and his hips shift into overdrive. His cock begins to pound me hard, and his balls slap loudly against my wet outer lips. Each time he slams against me, my whole body shakes, and my tits bounce up and down. I moan in rhythm to his thrusts, and he grunts loudly as his breathing gets heavier.

“God, Jane,” he says. “You feel so fucking good.”

He shifts his angle, and starts thrusting again. I feel his cock sliding against my g-spot, and a high-pitched scream escapes me.

“Ahh! Dick!”

“Fuckk!” he grunts.

He squeezes my tits as he fucks me, but they bounce and jiggle in his hands. Even though he’s pinning me to the bed, I start to buck my hips against him, wanting to feel more friction. My movement just makes Rikard move more, too, and soon it feels as if we are competing with each other. Who can fuck the other the hardest, the fastest? Who can make the other cum first?

It turns out it’s a draw: just as my pussy clenches and tightens like it did before―this time with his royal dick buried deep inside me―I hear Rikard grunt and moan.

“F-fuck!” he groans. “I can’t―”

And my pussy pulses and milks him for all it’s worth in response. I feel his cock pulsing in response to me, and then―just as an orgasm explodes within me and my blood lights on fire―a huge explosive load of warm wetness blasts up into me. It’s so strong I swear I can feel it hitting my cervix, all those royal sperm desperate to compete with each other to fill me up with a little princeling.

I gasp and lose control of my body, and I feel my juices surging across his cock, even as he blasts three more loads deep within me.

I shake my hips up and down as Rikard plows me into oblivion, and I feel our combined cum beginning to drip out of my pussy and all over the bed. He slides all the way into me and holds there as his cock drips out the last of his seed, and we collapse together in the same heartbeat, utterly and completely spent.

* * *

I wake up still wrapped around him. His cock isn’t inside me any longer, but I don’t even remember him pulling out. I must have fallen asleep immediately, and never let go of him.

I promised him I wouldn’t stay mad at him, but I must have subconsciously worried that he’d leave me again. If I stay wrapped around him, he can’t sneak off into another suicidal battle.

The reality of everything starts to hit me hard in that moment. I’m married. This man, this prince, isn’t just some fantasy. He’s not just a one-night stand either. He’s my husband. And that makes me a princess.

It seems that the war and all the terrible things happening in Nordia have to be the price for this. If everything was peaceful and good, it would be way too good to be true. Nothing this good can come without a price. I can have my perfect man and my prince in shining armor, but a man only wears armor to fight. And fighting means I risk losing him.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice sounding a lot less tired than I feel.

“I am,” I whisper.

“It doesn’t feel real,” he says.

“I was just thinking that.”

“Unfortunately,” he says, “I need to wake up. We’re lucky we woke up like this, and not because of an artillery blast. I have to see where we are...with that.”

With the war.

“You promise you won’t fight again,” I say.

“I can help General Breivik with strategy and tactics,” I say.

“You dodged my question, Rikard,” I say. “You promise you won’t fight?”

“I won’t attack again,” he says. “But if they cross the border…”

I pull away from him and look him dead in the eyes. “You cannot fight,” I say. “No matter what.”

He huffs and jumps up from the bed, his naked body looking perfect in the morning light.

“Princess for only a day and you’re ordering me around?” he asks.

His tone is joking, but I can tell he’s offended or annoyed.

“Rikard,” I say. “I don’t want to order you around; I just don’t want you to die. I don’t want to lose you.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” he says, grabbing a shirt from his closet.