Chapter 15

Edward

For the first time in my life, I’m in no mood to party.

After I made my announcement to the party, it felt like the entire palace let out a collective sigh of relief. Now they’re all partying, happy that no scandal will befall their precious palace walls.

Ugh, fuck them all.

They have no idea what Gwen’s decision to stay engaged to the marquis did for them. Not like they’ll appreciate it anyway. They’ll go back to their dull little lives, reading about me over tea to their knitting circle, or gossiping about me to coworkers around some watercooler.

People always think the life of a royal is so great. It’s all just opulence, jewels, hot maids, awesome food, and unlimited partying disguised as social functions. And sure, everything might seem like it’s all fun and games—until you’re forced to marry some ogre to prove your loyalty to the kingdom.

Looking out the window onto the city, I try to convince myself that it’s all worth it, but I just can’t get Gwen’s face out of my head.

It was total agony seeing her with that skinny little Roach motherfucker clutching her with his claws wrapped around her body. Ugh, I wish I could grab him by the scruff of his shirt and throw his ass out the window.

I can’t imagine what’s running through her head right now. I guess she’s going through her own personal mental dilemma, too. I know she wanted me—wanted to be with me—there’s no doubt in my mind.

We both thought we could completely follow our hearts without any thought to the trouble it would cause.

We both should’ve known better.

Why ruin everything over simple lustful desire? Even a desire as potent and earth-quaking as ours may be. We both know what it takes to be royals. We both have commitments and, above all, we know that our royal duties come first.

I know I sound like a stiff prick saying that, but it’s the god’s honest truth. Within the royal family, you can party hard, get drunk, do drugs, and do whatever you want as long as it stays behind closed doors and the tabloids never find out.

But as soon as the time comes to start our official royal duties, all games have to stop.

Shut it down.

Game over.

Get to work.

We all put our heads down and do our duties to our country.

I know it sounds like a shitty situation, but I’m damn proud to be king. You have no idea how lucky I am to be this powerful simply by birth. I get to have a voice simply because of who my family is.

Sometimes when I think about it I get a rock-hard erection. I just stand in front of my window and think, Fuck yeah. I rule this shit. Maybe that sounds a little cocky, but that’s how it is when you’re a royal.

You’re not a normal person. You’re almost like a demigod. There’s no point in trying to pretend to be all meek and oh-so-humble about it.

It feels fucking powerful!

And I honestly felt that Gwen could be a part of that power, that domination. Just the two of us, against the world. And that she wanted that, too.

How naive of me.

But I guess it’s too late for what ifs now. At the end of the day, no one placed a gun to my head and forced me to fuck up my own engagement party and propose to someone who wasn’t my fiancé.

No, that was my dick’s fault. He started it, and then my heart took over and finished it. If only my body would let my brain do the work sometimes.

Why did I allow myself to get carried away by her? Sure, she’s the hottest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on, but I should’ve used some restraint. God, I’m an adult, not some horny, hormonal teenager with my cock always in my hands.

But something came over me. The second I saw her, all grown up, her piercing eyes and perky tits all alive and eager, it all just pierced right through me.

It was like I was hypnotized.

Suddenly, I was sucked into her orbit and wanted every last bit of her. She was a drug, and I wanted to inhale her, taste her, and be inside of her. I’m getting aroused again just thinking about it.

Ha, Ignora-what’s-her-face wishes she could have that kind of allure on me. If Ignora could look me in the eye and make me instantly horny, I wouldn’t even need to fantasize about Gwen.

In fact, if I was satisfied with Ignora, I would be fucking her right now and having an amazing engagement party. I would have zero worries and everything would be great.

Instead, everything is so damn complicated now. I want to choose Gwen—maybe even at the expense of my country—but Gwen is being the honorable one. She’s choosing to keep the promise her family made to the Roach’s family.

I admire her commitment, even if I hate who she’s committing to. You’d think as the king I’d be able to have whatever I desired delivered to me on a silver platter. But Gwen, she’s got a mind of her own.

A mind that matches her sexy body, a body that makes me throb with desire.

My country or my heart? Gwen or my subjects? Oh, for fuck’s sake—why can’t I have both?!

I seriously wish I could just say, “Fuck it” and do whatever the hell I want.

In a perfect world, I could. I could just walk out one today, address the country with the news of my engagement changes, everyone would be happy, and everything would end perfectly. All wrapped up in a pretty bow.

Happily fucking ever after.

The problem is the damn tabloids.

If only I had the power to abolish them. Then, I wouldn’t have to worry about what those assholes splash on their front pages every day. Savages.

I wish I could forget this day.

I wander over to my liquor cabinet and pour myself a glass of brandy. I sip it for a second, running my nose around the rim, and then quickly down it.

A few seconds later my senses dull and the warmth shoots down my spine.

I pour myself a new glass, this time to the top, and down the whole thing again. And again.

Oh, sweet Gwen.

Her gorgeous face flashes in my mind again.

Suddenly, events start replaying in my head.

Images of her legs up as her body convulses with me between them. My hands on her perfect tits as I reach for her slender throat. Her skin is so soft, it’s like she was woven from silk.

With the images in my head, I collapse into my chair, overwhelmed.

Now I’m moaning as the room spins around me.

God, I’m pathetic.

I grab my crotch and start to rub my alcohol-soaked cock. I’m way too drunk to get hard, of course. And now I’m even more frustrated and sad.

Fuck royal duties.

Fuck the country.

What have they done for me? Do they even appreciate what I do for them?

They don’t!

I stand up as I stumble to the window again.

“Fuck all of you!” I slur into the glowing city outside my window. “You have no idea of the...sacrifices...I made!”

I wander over to my desk and collapse into my chair again. I whack my head against the desk with a loud thud and moan.

“Gwen,” I mumble to myself. “Gwen.”

I close my eyes and imagine us back in the garden. The feeling of my rock-hard dick in her perfect little mouth—her eyes looking up at me with complete trust and admiration.

I can’t just pretend all that was drunken nonsense, can I? Just pretend I don’t have human emotions because of my obligations?

But what about my people? Won’t they hate me forever for this?

I open my eyes. The room is spinning.

Maybe it’s just the alcohol talking, but I start having an epiphany. Maybe things aren’t as bad as I think. Maybe there is a way to make sense of all this.

It might all seem a bit crazy, but I think I now know what to do.