Chapter 31
thirty-one
PARKER
Astrid's body in my bed was a sight to behold. Though she infuriated me, she was the prettiest girl I ever shagged by a mile. Her porcelain skin, rosy now after two very loud orgasms, invited me back. I couldn't help myself. There was something sickeningly sweet about being the first to bring her to the point of no return.
“Why did you do it?” Astrid asked.
“What?”
“Help me out?”
“Other than you're dead sexy, and any man would be daft to turn you down?”
She giggled.
“Look, I was a late bloomer. I lost my virginity to an older friend between my second and third year of university.”
“An older woman took your virginity?”
I shook my head. “You're not allowed to judge me, Astrid.”
“How did that happen?”
“We hooked up at a party. She came onto me. I was her little brother's friend, but things were different that night. We ended up in bed, and I was nervous. I came clean. She relished it—was patient with me, put up with my inexperience, and I wasn't too shit. We ran around all summer—escaping to have a go of it.”
“Scandalous. Age gap?”
“Four years,” I answered.
“Naughty boy. Did he ever find out?”
“Yes. And he never spoke to me again.”
“Was it worth it?”
“She taught me how to be a decent lover, and he was an immature asshole at times, so yes.”
Astrid giggled, preoccupied with my chest hair. “Excuse me. I’ve never seen a man naked in real life until today. There's a novelty in it.”
“I can assure you anytime I see a woman naked, I take note. Everybody is different, Astrid. Every curve. Every nipple. Every pussy. It's lovely.”
“You are so different than I ever expected.”
“Different good?”
“Different delightful.”
I chuckled nervously.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s… I never convert. And I had no business doing this with you.”
“You came onto me,” Astrid said.
“Yes. I got brave. You should be off-limits. I shouldn't be doing this.”
“Why? I was a willing participant.”
“Because I work one-on-one with you. We’re teaching together this year. You and I must finish this work on Briggs's chapter, Astrid.”
Astrid kissed me slowly. “We can try to keep it under wraps. Who must know? Who says I want to be your girlfriend? We don’t even really like one another outside of this, right? So, can’t we have fun?”
Surprised, I froze. What was this? I wanted her. But did I want her that badly? Dating a princess seemed like a lot of work. Would it be well-accepted by society? Yes. It would be on-brand. It would tick all the aristocratic boxes. But Astrid was young, naive, and had a lot of institutional baggage .
“Well, not at this moment. I didn't read that as your intent, Astrid.”
“See, that's the thing. I will always appreciate you for this. But you aren't beholden to me. I am trying to shake off the ties that bound me to my merciless maidenhead.”
“What?”
“Look, I don't want to get into it, Parker. But the truth is... I was once a princess in a tower. Neandia is conservative and religious. My grandmother was a bogeyman who locked us up and curated every aspect of our lives. I had this internalised shame. Every time I masturbated, I hated myself. Even when free, I was terrified of sex. Would it hurt? Would I be bad? The last year, I've both been determined to have my cherry popped and terrified by it.”
“I'm sorry you had that experience. Men have the opposite pressure.”
“Grass is always greener.”
I felt sympathy. Being locked in a tower was no good. And given all the societal expectations my mother always placed on us—the most crushing on me—I'd often felt restricted. Research and education set me free. I wasn't ready to explain that—or what had forever changed me—to Astrid yet. I suspected she'd understand, but I wasn't prepared to be so vulnerable. I'd told no one these realities. I held my cards close.
“Hotel rooms are novel to me.” Astrid changed the subject.
“What?” I chuckled.
“We never travelled. I was locked up, Parker. And... when I do travel, I often stay at a palace or embassy. Until I fought to move to the UK, I was always flanked by security and forced to stay in official residences. This is my first time being out in the world.”
I couldn't fathom that. I'd been sheltered, sent to the best schools, and—in many cases—had my friends hand-picked. I'd never been so protected that I hadn't lived until I was Astrid's age in my postgrad. The girl may have been a little quirky. Indeed, she probably deserved to be.
“Apologies. I had no idea. I'm glad you're out,” I said.
“Thanks. I'm out and not planning to ever go back.”