Chapter 14
Fourteen
AURELIA
My phone has been on do not disturb since I left for Navy Yard this morning.
There’s a flood of text messages from Margaret waiting for me when I check them in the car on the way back to my dormitory.
She’d been texting me relentlessly throughout the week, trying to pry from me the name of my mysterious soccer date.
She eventually gave up on that part but then started on hyping me up, knowing it’s been a pitifully long time since I’ve even been to lunch with a guy, much less on a date.
I ignore her demand for a full report, only telling her that ‘Fritz’ was a perfect gentleman, and the match was wonderful. My friend has a few choice words about my lack of dirty details and promises a full inquisition at our next Sunday lunch date.
Back at Granbury House, I wash off the day and make myself semi-presentable for dinner with Aunt Sarah. I’m thankful it’s just the two of us, and she’s forgone her attempt at matchmaking tonight since my whole being is still consumed with the way the prince’s hands and mouth felt on me.
“Something is different about you, my dear Aurelia,” my aunt surveys me from across the table after she’s regaled me with the latest updates on her various charities.
It sounds like planning is in full swing for the Christmas party she hosts every year for the private school girls she sponsors, and the women’s shelter is breaking ground on a new dormitory set to double occupancy.
I sip my wine to hide my face. I definitely need to work on schooling my expressions better, and I have no control over my hyperactive blushing reflex. Shrugging one shoulder, I say, “I’m not sure what, Aunt Sarah. I’m still the same old boring me.”
Her side eye is piercing, and I swear this woman has a sixth sense for anything remotely related to sex. “No, there is clearly something going on with you. Your feet barely touched the ground when you walked in, and you haven’t let that dreamy smile slip all night.”
Yep, I really need to take lessons from Princess Beatrix or someone. Nothing good can come from being this easily read.
“Just in a good mood tonight, I guess.”
“Darling, there’s only one thing that puts a woman in that good a mood.” She raises her eyebrows at me over her wine glass. “What’s his name?”
“Who says it’s a he?” Deflection is my best defense at this point.
“Well, I never pegged you for a pearl diver.”
I nearly choke on my sponge cake, and my aunt giggles innocently.
“I keep saying you should be enjoying yourself, darling. You are young and beautiful. It’s time you shed that useless twaddle your mother shoved down your throat.”
Years ago, my actions today would have sent me in a shame spiral featuring all the Bible verses that were drilled in my head and the frankly sexist object lessons the youth leaders would employ when talking about sex.
My brief wave of guilt when I tried to touch myself Friday night is gone, drowned by the sheer pleasure the prince brought me today.
I’ve made a lot of progress since moving away from home and removing myself from the judgement.
Maybe I’m ready to enjoy the sins of the flesh, even if just for a little bit.
After dinner, my aunt sends me away with more dessert for my study time tonight and a few words of wisdom about the things grownups do with their bodies.
Her words make me sputter in embarrassment, but I also can’t ignore the feeling settling below my waist when I think about doing any of that again.
When I get back to my dorm, I’m somehow able to make my brain focus on typing up a paper for my education class.
Later, though, when I’m trying to fall asleep, my thoughts drift back to the ginormous bed I had been laid out on earlier in the day.
Warmth pools low in my belly as I remember long fingers roaming my exposed body.
It’s no use trying to force myself to sleep when my nerves are all tingly and the simple brush of the sheets against my skin is giving me chills.
I grab my e-reader from my bedside table, opening to my current read: a romance novel that Margaret has been raving about since the day she convinced me to crack open one of her smut books.
It’s about an American president who’s been in love with his VP since they were soldiers together, but they both have this secret love for a woman they met years ago.
I’m so close to finishing the first book in the trilogy, and I can’t deny the looming threesome has me more than intrigued.
My pulse pounds between my legs, and I can feel the slickness there that’s been teasing me since this afternoon.
I start tracing my hand lightly along my abdomen, thinking back on the feel of a different hand on me. No one had ever touched me like that. I can’t remember ever wanting anyone to. But I want Prince Friedrich to do that and more.
I trail my hand lower on my body and reach the elastic of my panties.
Prince Friedrich didn’t hesitate when he reached this part, but I can’t make myself go any further, as an old scripture that was a favorite of my youth pastor flashes in my mind.
I groan and snatch my hand away, but my body still feels tight and edgy.
Closing the cover on Mrs. Simone‘s characters, I roll over and pick up my phone. Just past ten on a Sunday night, Margaret will still be awake. She answers my call after several rings.
“Aurelia, are you okay?” Muffled bass sounds pump in the background.
“No, I’m not freaking okay. I mean, yes, I’m physically fine, but my brain is on fire or something.” And my whole body, if I’m being honest.
The sounds of the club fade as Margaret looks for a quiet spot to talk. “Ooh, did someone have a good time today?”
“I mean, yes?” It comes out more like a question than I had intended.
“That wasn’t a very convincing yes.”
“Will you just promise not to make a big deal out of it, please?” I have to tell her the truth, or at least part of the truth.
“I make zero promises.”
I sigh. I can’t back out of this now, and I know I can’t expect her not to freak out. “So, this guy.”
“The football match guy?”
“Yes, the football match guy.”
“Fritz?”
“Yes, woman! Would you just let me speak?”
She laughs. “Sorry, sorry. Please continue.”
A toilet flushes in the background. “Ew. Are you in the bathroom?”
“It’s the only quiet spot in the club. Now quit stalling, and out with it already.”
I take a deep, steadying breath. “Okay, so Fritz and I have this kind of, um, agreement,” I finally get out.
“What kind of agreement?” Margaret presses.
I can feel my cheeks getting hot. “A kind of… Sexual one?” The last words come out in more of a squeak.
“Sorry, hun. Didn’t catch that.”
My breath shakes as I let it in and out. “We have a sort of sex-slash-not-sex agreement.” I have to back my ear off the phone to avoid taking the brunt of Margaret’s squeal directly in my ear.
“Oh my god, Aurelia! Tell me everything.”
“Ugh. Everything?” There are certain things I’m definitely not telling, and the rest… Do women really talk about that kind of stuff together?
“Yes, girl, I need details. Did you guys have not-sex today? Wait, what is not-sex? It’s anal, isn’t it?”
I cough. “What? No! Criminy, Margaret.” She is cackling on the other end. “No, I asked him to show me the other things. You know, like everything but sex.”
“Aw, my little chickie is growing up,” she coos. “But seriously, who is this guy, and where did you suddenly get all this confidence?”
“Your smut books are to blame here. I’d never even thought about sex until you started shoving that filth in my face. And the guy is just a guy,” I lie.
“He must be some guy to go awakening this side of you that I’ve never known you to even remotely indulge.”
If she only knew. I’m sure she does, actually, being present at all the major court functions since she turned eighteen and all that.
I know I’m not the only woman to be drawn in by our incredibly good-looking crown prince.
And it’s not only his handsomeness either.
The way he holds himself, like he cares about nothing and everything at the same time.
How he doesn’t seek attention but somehow draws all the interest in the room.
Then there’s the side the public doesn’t see, the part that I’m getting in bits and pieces with each interaction outside of official functions.
“Okay, girl, so what happened today? Tell Auntie Margaret all about it.”
I take another deep breath as the delicious fluttering starts back up inside me.
“It was… Amazing! Margaret, no guy has ever made me feel this way.” I recount the whole afternoon to my best friend, leaving out the bits that would surely give away his identity.
She interjects at the right spots in my story and asks more questions to drag out each detail.
“And now I can’t sleep and I’m just laying here remembering it all and getting all those feelings again. ”
“Have you tried masturbating?”
“I’m sorry, what?” I sputter. I mean, yeah, that’s what I was trying to do, but for her to come out and just say the word like that.
“You know, self-love, jilling off, ringing the devil’s doorbell—”
“Stop! I got it the first time, thanks.” My stomach rolls, and just the idea is making me a little nauseous.
“Oh, you poor little repressed American,” Margaret laughs.
“I’m not repressed. I just… I never really enjoyed it.”
“Mm-hm. Repressed. I know your childhood fucked you up in the sex department, but it’s time to get out of your little cocoon of virtuosity and enjoy the pleasures of the body.”
“I don’t—” I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. “I don’t know what to do.” My voice is barely a whisper.
I think back to this afternoon. The way Friedrich touched my body, how he knew exactly what to do to give me pleasure, the skill he had with his hands and mouth. I swear it was agony. I’ve never made myself feel like that.
“Oh god, this is too good,” my friend trills.