“They won’t let me,” says Victoria sadly. The dress that she’s wearing is simple enough, a dark blue skirt with a pale blue top. Her fine golden hair has been pulled back into a French braid, tied off at the end with a silver ribbon that matches her earrings and her necklace.
Matt scowls at her. He’s uninterested in sitting down. The park looks odd as a back drop for him, with his ripped-up jeans, muddied combat boots, bruised-up knuckles, and black eye. “Fuck them.”
“I know that’s what you want me to do,” says Victoria. She shakes her head. It’s hard to look the older man in the face. “But I can’t. Matt, you don’t understand. If it was just us on the line, I would tell them that in a heartbeat. But I’m the next in line for the throne. Vertsea needs a ruler, and ten, twenty years from now, it’s going to be me.”
“So go back then!” Matt throws his hands into the air, like that answer should have been obvious. “Telling your parents to fuck off and marrying someone else, that’s not going to change who your blood’s linked back to!”
“They could denounce me.”
“They could what?”
“Denounce me. They could discard me as their child, legally and officially revoking my place as the heir apparent to the Vertsea throne.” Victoria hides her face in her palms. The park is quiet. There’s no one else around.
That’s what happens when you show up at two in the afternoon on a Monday. Most people are at work.
Victoria should be at work.
At least, she should be somewhere that’s not here. A press meeting, maybe, trying to get away from the horrible rumors that are milling around.
But she doesn’t want to.
She doesn’t want to be anywhere but here, with Matt, away from her family. The air is fresh and cold and smells like golden leaves and the pale yellow flowers that grow along the cracked sidewalk.
“Then that’s on them,” says Matt. “I don’t see what the problem is.”
“The problem is that my country needs me!” Victoria lets her hands fall away. She stares up at Matt, once more on the verge of tears. “They need me, Matt. Don’t you see? My parents will put someone else in charge. They’re going to put someone like...like the Duke of Cambridge in charge!”
“Do you even know his name?” Matt rakes his fingers through his messy hair.
Victoria gawks at him. “Of course! I just, you just don’t do that!”
“Call someone by their name?”
“Yes! Not when they’re royalty!”
“Why? It’s his name!”
“You just don’t!”
“I call you Tori,” shouts Matt. This is a pointless fight, but it’s better than trying to deal with the larger issue splayed out before them.
Victoria jumps to her feet. She curls her hands into fists at her side. “That's different! You call me that because you aren't supposed to be part of my royal life! Don't you understand how hard this is?”
“No! It's a name! It doesn't mean anything!”
“It means everything! Titles and names and reputations, they're all linked together. It's like now, when my name is ruined! No one will respect me at home! A disowned whore, that's what they say. Your papers, they're only interested in the way my mother may have treated me. They all talk about how it looked like she might have raised a hand at me.” Victoria shakes her head. She's struggling hard not to cry. It's more difficult than one might think, but she continues, “The papers at home, they're different. My mother is a well-respected woman. They love her, and they love my father. When they look at those pictures, the only thing that they focus on is me. The focus is on me and you and her.”
She rests a hand on her stomach. Each day, it seems like she grows a bit more. Victoria has never once pondered what it would be like to be a mother. She's never been able to picture herself with a bundle of cloth and flesh in her arms, with a babe crying in the middle of the night.
She’s always pictured herself working with cloth. She's always imagined herself sitting on the throne, like her mother.
But a child? The thought is foreign and startling.
“They call me horrid names,” says Victoria. “And they do it because of my name. Princess Victoria, that's what it is. Princess Victoria, the whore. Princess Victoria, the slut. They pose questions that completely eradicate my reputation, and it's all because of my name. Names are important!”
Matt flounders for a moment. He's not good at dealing with his emotions. In a desperate bid to make things better, to get things back on track, he asks, “What are you going to name her?”
Victoria blinks, taken off-guard by the question. “Pardon me?”
“What are you going to name her? The baby,” says Matt, nodding at Victoria's stomach. “What are you going to name her?”
“Oh. I don't…I don't know. I haven't thought about it.”
“Not even a little?”
“I never thought I would have a kid,” admits Victoria. “I didn't know I would be a mother.”
“But you're going to be one,” says Matt. He takes a step forward and rests his hands on Victoria's hips. “You're going to be a mother. You said you were sure it's going to be a little girl.”
“I am. I can tell.”
“Then she needs a name. Victoria, can I help you come up with a name for her? I don't want someone else to raise that child,” says Matt, an utmost seriousness to his words.
It's hard for Victoria not to reel back. She demands, “What do you mean?”
“I don't want another man to raise my child,” says Matt. “I don't want someone else to help you take care of her. I want to be there for you, Victoria. Please, let me.”
“I don't know how to,” says Victoria. “I have to go back to Vertsea, and my parents—”
“Your parents are dicks,” spits Matt. His fingers dig tighter against Victoria's hips, but there's nothing cruel in the motion. Matt just wants to hold her, just wants to be close to her. “I love you, Victoria. I want to be with you, no matter what it takes. That baby, she's mine, too. Please, don't take her from me.”
Victoria wraps her arms around Matt's neck. She's crying, unable to give an answer one way or another. It's horrible, being so close to happiness but unable to take it for herself. “I don't want you to go,” admits Victoria. “I don't want you to go, but I don't know how to let you stay. I think I might love you, Matt. I think I might love you.”
“I love you, too,” says Matt, wrapping the young princess in his arms. “Victoria, I love you, and I'm going to love that child.”
“You won't,” sobs Victoria. “You won't, and neither will I. My parents don't want me to keep the baby!”
“What?”
“They don't want me to keep the baby,” sobs Victoria, unable to control her tears any longer. She buries her face in the side of Matt's neck, trying to get as close to the man as possible. “They want me to find another husband in Vertsea. They have plans to make me give up our daughter and have another child with my new husband! I don't want that, Matt! I don't want that!”
The man is struck silent. He can't offer any help, can only stand there and hold the sobbing princess, hands running over her back in an attempt to soothe her.
“I won't let that happen,” says Matt. “Victoria, I won't let it happen.”
“How can you stop it?”
Matt insists, “Just leave with me!”
Victoria finds that, rather than answer, she can only cry.
# # #
Even though Victoria should be back at the suite, they go from the park to a nearby diner. It's a cozy place, the likes of which Victoria is not usually allowed to stop at. She smiles at the waitress, smiles at the other people.
She looks at Matt with red-rimmed eyes and tells him, “I'm going to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?”
“Go take your time,” says Matt. “I'll get the food coming. This place has good eats but they always take forever to get the food to the table.”
Victoria kisses Matt on the cheek and then vanishes into the bathroom. She sits her purse on the bathroom counter and adjusts the rings on her hands, a nervous habit. She moves her mother's huge diamond wedding set back to an upright position on her finger. It's a little big for her, but she loves it and will always wear it, even now, with all of these issues taking place.
She looks at it, and she smiles. Victoria has only just started to reapply her tear-streaked makeup when the door opens.
It's not another woman, but Matt. He clicks the main lock on the door and grins at Victoria. “I thought I could help you get your mood back up.”
“Matt,” yelps Victoria. “You aren't supposed to be in here!”
Matt's only answer is to descend upon Victoria with an open mouth and roving hands.
When he pulls back form the fierce kiss, Victoria reaches out to touch his lips with her fingers, and tentatively, shyly, runs her fingers over them, outlining them, then moving her fingertips over their full surface. Unexpectedly, he opens his lips and takes one of her fingers into his mouth, causing her to gasp in surprise.
Matt smirks around his full mouth. Slowly, he sucks on one finger. It sends a static shock down Victoria's spine, right to her cunt. When he lets go of her finger, it's red and tingling.
The biker only pauses long enough to start rubbing at Victoria's breasts. His whole palm and fingers envelope as much of her breast as he can from the outside of her clothes, flicking his fingertips across her already hard nipple. She groans, leaning heavily against the porcelain sinks.
The next thing Victoria knows, she's got a hand on Matt's pants, groping him through the denim. He laughs, a low, breathy sound. “I thought this would put you in a better mood. It's sure going to put me in one.”
“Do you really like touching me that much?”
“Baby, I love everything about you that much.”
His hands move down her body, sliding sensuously along the soft curves of her waist and hips, across her thighs, and settling between her creamy white legs. Matt bundles up the fabric of Victoria's dress, hiking it up around her waist. Not so gently, he separates her legs with his hands and arms. She is more than willing to accommodate his unspoken commands. Standing with legs as far apart as she can, she feels her wetness begin to drip down her thighs.
It's a strange thing, being here in the bathroom. Victoria keeps glancing towards the locked door. “Won't we get in trouble?”
“Only if you're too loud,” says Matt with a low laugh. “So be quiet, baby, and everything will work out just fine.”
He feels for her black thong barely running down the crack of her ass, dividing her glorious cheeks and covering her wet pussy. He cannot bear it any longer and grabs her cheeks hard, separating them and kneading them. He slips a finger underneath her thong and traces it downwards along the crack of her ass to her pussy. His fingers barely touch her pussy, and she gasps. Her core is so wet. She spreads her legs subconsciously as if inviting him in. His middle finger probes her pussy.
Matt says, “You need to get your mind off this shit. Your parents aren't going to give in. One of these days, Victoria, you're just going to have to step up and do things on your own.”
He pushes a finger into her cunt, crooking it and easily finding that one spot in her that makes lights dance across her eyes. Victoria groans, her head falling back, just barely missing the mirror.
Matt is relentless. This is different from trying to get off, and it's different from trying to get close. It's fast in all the best ways. One finger’s slipping in after the other; there’s no lube this time, only the wetness that's dripping from her.
Victoria's hands curl against Matt's shoulders, scrabbling for purchase. She mewls and twists beneath his touch; she wails and shudders when he pulls his fingers out, just to jam them all back into her with one swift twist of his wrist.
“You need to forget about them,” says Matt. “You need to move on. What's more important, making them happy or making yourself happy?”
Victoria scratches at his shoulders in lieu of an answer. She can barely catch her breath, let alone form any sort of proper response. But that's okay because Matt isn't looking for an actual response. He just wants her to understand that nothing is going to change unless she makes it. He just wants her to understand that nothing's going to change unless she steps up and demands the world starts turning in her favor.
So he finger fucks her—hard and fast. Someone knocks on the door outside, and Victoria bites down on her palm in an attempt to muffle her wanton moans and desperate gasps. Matt doesn't let up, even when someone calls, “Hello? Why's this door locked?”
He snorts. Matt asks, “You want me to tell her what we're doing in here?”
Victoria shakes her head.
“Are you sure? I could. I could tell her that you're in here getting fucked by the man of your dreams. You're in here trying to figure out life and trying not to be too loud because you're about to have the best fuck of your life.”
That's a lie.
Matt has no plans on actually entering Victoria right now.
But talking, that doesn't have to be truthful. The words fall off his tongue like molten silver, and they drip straight into Victoria's veins. She cums with a shudder that goes bone-deep, with a cry that is loud even against her spit-slicked and tooth-marked palm.
Slowly, Matt withdraws his hand. He wipes the cum and slick off on the inside of Victoria's skirt, tugs up her panties, and hauls her panting form against his chest.
He asks, “Did that help?”
Victoria shakes her head. Then she hooks her trembling arms around Matt's neck and nods. “Can we still get something to eat?”
Matt laughs. “I already paid for it, so you'd better have plans on eating still.”