ANYA
I can't believe this is happening. Within an hour of Fynn telling me about the conversation with his father, we're downstairs standing in front of a priest. Luckily, my shipment of clothes came just in time. Otherwise, I'd probably be wearing a pair of Fynn's pajamas instead of the royal blue 1950's vintage flare dress I have on right now. It's the nicest thing I've ever worn, with a lace overlay for the bust and sleeves and a golden buckle at the waist. I don't quite feel like a princess in it, but I definitely feel refined.
But this is not the wedding I imagined for myself, not that I ever thought too hard about what my dream wedding would be like. I'm not wearing a wedding dress. We're not in a church. The best Fynn could do was move us outside so that there would be room for all his staff to stand around and witness our union. We're not surrounded by family and friends. Everyone here is a stranger to me apart from Fynn, and if it weren't for our intense intimacy these past two days, he would be little more than that.
Everything is moving at lightning speed, but I understand the urgency behind it. It seems like everything Fynn does is so spontaneous that I barely have time to adjust. I hope that things calm down once we're married and back at the palace.
More than that though, I hope we actually make it back to the palace. By some miracle, Daniel hasn't made a move to separate us yet, but the threat feels ever-present. He could show up at any time and arrest us both.
What would happen then? I'm sure that Fynn would eventually be released, but what about me? Would I be executed? I'd like to think that Fynn would be able to stop it, but he's lower on the hierarchy than his father. It's odd being at the mercy of someone I've never met—my soon-to-be father-in-law—but then again, it's not much different than the war. For the longest time, I've felt like I had little control over whether I lived or died. One dropped bomb I didn't see coming could have ended my life. Fynn's men could have come upon the camp and shot it up. It feels like there are a dozen ways to die these days. What makes this one any scarier than the rest?
“I'm sorry that you're not getting to wear a lavish gown, but you look beautiful.” Fynn takes my hand as we stand in front of the priest.
I smile at him and give his hand a gentle squeeze, so lost in the surrealism of everything going on that I have a hard time focusing. No, this isn't the wedding I had envisioned, but it doesn't really matter. And I'm not doing this because I feel forced to from Fynn pushing me along faster than I can keep up. I'm doing this because I believe in what we have together. I believe...that this is love. And whether I live or die as a consequence of our actions, I think I'm fine with it. Because I never expected to know love like this. Love that would make a man turn his back on his country, his best friend, his family. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
We say our vows in the courtyard of the estate. It might have been a nice day if the wind wasn't whipping so fiercely. The weather is tumultuous, like every second that passes by. I think I spend more time listening for approaching soldiers than I do to the priest’s words. Maybe that's why Fynn really wanted to have the wedding outside. He wanted to hear if anyone was coming.
My heart echoes in my ears as we get to the part where we exchange vows. There was no time to write our own. And even if there had been, what would we have said. Fynn probably would have written something along the lines of seeing me from afar and feeling immediately hit by cupid's arrow. I would have said that in the few short days I've known him, no one has cared for me as much. No, those aren't good vows. The generic version is better for now.
I stumble over my words, wondering if a wedding has ever been filled with this much tension. Lova is crying, but the other servants are stone-faced. Stress is apparent in Fynn's tensed jaw. I'm on edge, expecting him to tell the priest to hurry up. This isn't romantic at all. Not in the moment. But in the grand scheme of things, to an outsider, it would be.
Finally, we're pronounced man and wife, and I feel relief sweep through both Fynn and me like a passing wind. We gaze into each other's eyes, and then we kiss, sealing our union. The kiss is chaste, but I still feel a zing of electricity between us. Fynn rests his forehead against mine, and I can see that he's just happy that the wedding is over. No, this is definitely not a typical wedding. If we somehow both survive this and don't end up in jail, I want a re-do in a few years.
“Congratulations,” the servants say as we proceed back inside the house. They bow and curtsey to me, which seems incredibly odd.
“You're a princess now,” Fynn leans in and tells me with a smile.
Even though I knew this was what would happen when we married, being reminded of it is still a shock to me. Princess Anya. It doesn't sound real. Like some made up name not belonging to me.
I stand near the stairs while the servants go back to their posts and Fynn speaks to the priest for a while before dismissing him. Then he takes my hand and leads me upstairs. When we get to our room, he stops in front of the door, scooping me up into his arms to carry me over the threshold. I can't help but giggle.
“I think you were supposed to have done that when we entered the house,” I inform him.
“This isn't really our home. Just a temporary one. I can get it right back at the palace.” He winks at me.
“If we make it that far,” I mumble.
“We'll make it that far,” he assures me, setting me down on the bed. “My father may be pigheaded, but there's not much he can do now. Arresting us won't change the fact that we're legally bound in marriage. At worst, he'll try to force me to annul the marriage, and when I refuse, he'll grudgingly accept that this is the way things are. It may take a while, but I guarantee he'll warm up to you the second he sees his new grandbaby.” Fynn tenderly places his hand on my stomach.
“Let's hope there's a grandbaby in there.” I look down at his hand. “I'm sure they'll give me a pregnancy test while I'm rotting in jail.”
“Maybe we should work on that some more, then.” His eyes darken, and he begins to loosen his tie.
“You're insatiable.” I smirk. “There could be an army at your door at any moment, and you're thinking about sex already.” The outline of his hard cock in his black slacks proves that.
“I've got to make sure you're pregnant before they come.” He makes it sound like it's his duty.
“And what if they catch us?” I pull my legs up onto the bed, leaning forward to stroke him over his pants.
Fynn moans softly as he pulls his tie off, wraps it around my neck, then starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Let them catch us.”
“Then your father will like me even less, seducing his son when he knows that danger is present.” My eyes flash playfully as I work on unbuckling his belt.
“He'll love you once he takes the time to get to know you.”
“Is that so?” I unbutton and unzip his pants, reaching into his boxers to pull out his hot throbbing sex.
“That's soooo,” the word turns into a long string of vowels as I wrap my mouth around him and start sucking. I can't help but giggle around his dick.
Fynn fists his fingers into my hair as I bob on him. The thought of being caught in the act only heightens my arousal. My God, this guy has turned me into a pervert.
He uses his grip on me to pull me up until I'm kneeling on the bed. I pout from the loss of the taste of him, keeping my hand wrapped around his shaft to stroke him. There's a familiar urgency in his eyes that tells me we don't have time for much foreplay. While he was trying to be sexy about it, there's a very real worry that soldiers might come to break us up at any moment. He needs to put a baby inside of me if he hasn't already.
I hike up my dress and pull down my panties, holding them up to him on my index finger. He snatches them away from me and inhales their scent, making me blush.
“That's so dirty,” I mutter.
“What's dirty about it? I love your scent.” He crawls up onto the bed with me, pulling me into his arms and kissing me passionately. It's far better than the wedding kiss. Unrestrained and full of all the love I know he feels for me. “Show me your pussy,” he demands.
I bite my bottom lip, resting back on the bed and pulling my skirt up to my waist, then spreading my thighs for him. When I slip two fingers between my legs and part my folds, he hisses, his hand moving to his cock to stroke himself.
“Oh, you get me so hard.” A wicked smirk plays across his handsome face. “Now up on all fours. I want to take you from behind.”
Heat rushes up my neck from his request, and I take to my knees, arching my back and exposing my ass and pussy to him. He crawls up onto the bed, grabbing his dick and angling it for entry. I groan when his helmet crests my folds, and I feel my legs almost instinctively sink back to take him all in. He curses while pushing forward, filling me to the brim with his cock.
“It's so much,” I whisper against my arm, feeling spread wider than ever before. This position is heavenly.
Fynn places his hands on my ass and starts thrusting. I rock back with him in time, happy to have an ounce of control for once. Up until now, Fynn has done the vast majority of the work. Being able to push back on him and take him into me feels empowering.
“Let me have all of that dick,” I purr as I squeeze my muscles, rotating my hips to feel every inch of him.
“Holy shit.” He tears his hand through his hair, looking so sexy and lost.
Fynn picks up the pace, pounding into me so hard that I can't keep up. The best I can do is curl my fingers into the comforter and moan as I listen to the headboard bang against the wall. I'm not sure which is louder, the furniture or my moaning. There's no doubt that every servant in the house knows what's going on up here.
“Are you ready for me to breed your pretty little pussy?” Fynn asks, never slowing down.
“Yes. Oh yes,” I cry.
I gasp as the friction drives me over the edge, my face resting against the comforter. A huge smile forms on my lips as Fynn slams into me a final time and I feel that familiar euphoric swelling sensation that I love so much. Heat shoots into my womb as his cock expands and spurts into me. I lick my lips, feeling deliciously full of him.
“Mm, your cunt squeezes me so good,” Fynn moans breathily.
“Fill me up. I want all of your dick juice.” I continue to rock on him as if I could milk every last drop with my pussy.
He grabs onto my shoulder and pulls me back against him. I can feel his balls smashed against my pussy. His cock swells a final time, and then he's spent.
“Fuck, your pussy is so good. I can't believe it's mine for the rest of my life.” Fynn leans over and kisses me between my shoulder blades.
“And this cock is mine.” I grin at him, looking utterly satisfied.
“I'm all yours. And you're all mine. Forever.” He gazes down at me.
“Forever,” I repeat, never happier to say that word.