Chapter 26
My hands won't stop shaking.
I stare at myself in the locker-room mirror, hardly recognizing the girl staring back.
The Princess Blanca costume is perfect and fits me like a glove.
The ice-blue bodice is dusted with tiny rhinestones, and the large blue and white tulle skirt floats when I move.
It was supposed to be chopped down to make skating easier, but Scotty suggested keeping the length to hide… well, my terrible skating skills.
I take a deep breath, noticing the glitter catching on my collarbone as I flick my curled hair over my shoulder.
The tiara on top of my head is unmovable. My makeup could survive a hurricane.
I look exactly like the version of me the judges want, but that still doesn’t stop me from wanting to throw up.
“You’ve got this,” I whisper, but my voice cracks. “You’re one of the only three Princess Blanca's who made it to this stage. You’ve practiced. Scotty’s here. We’ve planned to distract. You can do this.”
The pep talk is supposed to help, but it doesn’t.
What if I can’t do this?
What if I fall in the opening thirty seconds again?
What if the blade catches? What if I choke on the first note?
What if everyone out there sees right through the costume to the girl who still doesn’t belong on the ice?
My stomach twists hard, and I grip the tulle of my dress until my knuckles go white.
Nope.
Can’t keep spiraling.
Can’t pretend positive affirmations will magically fix the fact that my knees feel like damp spaghetti.
I need Scotty.
Not his pep talks, not his coaching—him.
His voice. His steadiness. His way of grounding me with one look like I’m not a disaster waiting to happen.
I grab my phone with trembling fingers and type a message.
Laura: Please tell me you're here.
I hit send and stare at my screen, praying he answers fast, because I’m one cracked breath away from unraveling all over the glittering rubber floor.
He responds instantly, but it still feels like it took hours.
Scotty: I'm here, Princess. Right outside your door. You want me to come in?
Laura: YES. Please.
I pace the locker room, my skates digging into the floor.
My stomach is in knots. My throat is tight.
This is it—the thing I’ve been working towards for months.
The thing I’ve lost sleep over, cried over, bled over during falls that still bruise my knees.
The thing Scotty rewrote his entire schedule for.
If I mess this up—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Scotty slips inside the second I turn the handle, shutting the door behind him quietly, and gives me a smile, already knowing I’m seconds from unraveling.
He’s already wearing Prince Alaric’s costume, and at least that’s a good distraction.
Fitted white pants, a blue military jacket with silver trim and black skates.
Shit, I shouldn’t be getting hot over this.
“Hi,” I breathe, the word barely making it out as I try to fight the tears. “I can’t do this, Scotty, I can’t—”
“Hey,” he murmurs, and he’s across the room in two long strides. His hands come up to cradle my face, warm and steady, grounding me instantly. “Look at me, Princess.”
I force myself to lift my gaze, to meet those stupidly blue eyes that I’ve been relying on for weeks.
“You can do this,” he says, low and certain. “You’ve done it a hundred times in practice. Your voice is perfect. Your skating is solid. And I’ll be right there with you the entire time.”
My breath stutters. “But what if I fall? What if—”
“Then I’ll catch you,” he says simply. “That's literally my job out there. To make you look good.”
“I'm terrified,” I whisper, because there’s no point pretending with him.
“I know.” His thumb strokes across my cheek again, slow and reassuring. “But you’re also the bravest person I know. You’re about to walk out there and show them exactly what you’re made of.”
“Scotty—”
He leans in and kisses me, soft and sweet and grounding, taking every frantic breath right out of my lungs and replacing it with his calmness. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, and he smiles. “I think we might need to make sure you're relaxed before you go out there.”
“I am relaxed,” I insist, though my voice wobbles.
“Liar.” His mouth curves.
He glances toward the door, then back at me with a look that sends heat spiraling straight to my core. “Let me help.”
“Scotty, we don’t have time—”
“We have fifteen minutes.” He’s already moving, sliding a chair beneath the door handle with practiced ease. “And I can make you come in five.”
My breath catches. “Someone could—”
“Someone could what?” He turns back to me, eyes darkening to a shade that makes my knees wobble. “Try to get in? The door’s blocked.” He steps closer, lowering his voice. “Hear you? Then you’ll just have to be quiet, Princess.”
“Scotty,” I warn, not sure why when my legs are falling open.
His eyes drop to the tulle and he bites his bottom lip. “You look so fucking beautiful in this dress,” he murmurs as he sinks to his knees in front of me. His hands disappear under the layers of tulle, pushing them up, gathering them together. “You were made for this role, Princess. Made to shine.”
Cool air creeps up my legs as he pulls my shorts and underwear down to my skates and lifts my legs up so he can scoot between my legs. My legs are crossed around him, my underwear acting as a vice around him.
“Scotty,” I breathe, falling back and gripping the edge of the bench to steady myself.
“I’ve been thinking about this all damn morning,” he confesses, and I can barely hear him with all the tulle in the way.
“I want your thighs over my shoulders, your pussy on my tongue, and I want to ruin you before you skate out there and make every person in that arena wish they were me.”
My skirt is bunched around my waist now, and he’s staring at my center like he’s hungry.
“Stay quiet for me, Princess.” His breath skates across my pussy right before his mouth is on me.
His first slow lick drags a helpless sound from my throat, and I have to bite down on my lip to keep from crying out. His tongue traces slow, deliberate strokes, savoring my every tremor.
His arms wrap around my thighs, pulling me closer just as his hands open me wide as his tongue flicks over my clit so quickly I lose my breath.
“Oh, God,” I gasp as I sink my hand into his hair, needing more.
He groans against my clit, the vibration jolting through me so hard my hips jerk. His tongue traces slow, devastating circles before he sucks—first feather-light, then with a deeper pull that unravels me. A broken sound escapes, and I clap a hand over my mouth to muffle it.
“So sensitive,” he murmurs, his breath hot against me. “So perfect.”
He slides two fingers inside me, sinking deep while his mouth is latched to my pussy, his tongue flicking my clit.
The dress shifts with every movement, layers of tulle brushing against my thighs and rustling between us.
One stubborn layer keeps slipping forward, threatening to fall over his face, and he makes a frustrated noise against me.
His hand leaves my thigh for a moment so he can shove the tulle up higher, bunching it around my waist until the pile is so big it nearly topples sideways.
He glances up at me through the mess, hair mussed, his princely costume slightly askew, mouth wet. The contrast hits me so hard my stomach flips: a prince kneeling at my feet with his face buried under my dress like I’m the only person he answers to.
“There,” he mutters, his voice low and satisfied as he tucks the last rebellious layer behind my hip. “I need to see you.”
Then he’s back on me, hungrier than before, his fingers moving with a steady rhythm while his mouth devours me.
I gasp again, louder. The tulle scratches lightly against the backs of my thighs as he works deeper, the fabric rustling every time he makes me jerk or try to grind against his face.
“Scotty… please…”
He groans again, the sound vibrating straight through me.
His fingers curl inside me, hitting that perfect spot.
The pile of tulle tries to slump forward again, so I grab fistfuls of it, lifting it to keep him exposed.
The view steals whatever breath I had left…
my prince is on his knees, his hair messy, his jacket straining across his shoulders, and his mouth open against me, worshiping me.
“Good girl,” he whispers, then seals his mouth back over my clit. His tongue works in tight, focused strokes that make my legs tremble around his shoulders. It’s too much, his fingers filling me while his mouth pulls me apart piece by piece.
“Scotty… please…” The plea slips out before I can stop it.
He answers with a low sound that vibrates straight through my core. His fingers curl inside me, brushing that perfect spot so lightly it makes my vision blur. I grip the edge of the bench with my free hand, my knuckles white, my hips tipping forward helplessly into his mouth.
“Come for me, Princess. Let me taste you.”
His fingers pump deeper, his tongue matching the rhythm, flicking and circling with precise, devastating intent. My breath breaks into uneven gasps, each one tighter than the last. Heat coils low in my belly, sharp and hot, building faster than I can brace for.
My orgasm crashes through me hard, my hand clutching the tulle so tightly it crinkles loudly as my whole body shakes. My hips buckle, my thighs tremble around his head, and I bite my wrist to smother the cry that rips out of me.
He doesn’t stop until the last shiver fades, coaxing me through every pulse with slow, tender strokes. When I finally sag back against the bench, boneless, the tulle collapses around my hips like a fallen cloud.
He lifts his head slowly. His lips are swollen, chin slick, his princely jacket rumpled, silver trim glinting in the soft light. He presses a kiss to my inner thigh before meeting my eyes.
“Beautiful,” he whispers. “Absolutely beautiful.”
He gives me a second before he lifts my thighs up and comes out from under my legs. He pulls my panties and shorts up before he reaches into his pocket and wipes his mouth, then presses a soft kiss to my lips.
“Better?” he asks.
“So much better,” I breathe, still trying to catch my breath.
He helps me straighten my dress, his hands gentle. “You're going to be incredible out there.”
“We're going to be incredible,” I correct, cupping his face. “Thank you.”
“Always, Princess.” He grins. “Though if the royal council ever hears about what I just did under that skirt, I’m getting exiled.”
I laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “Then I’ll just have to hide you in my tower.”
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Guys? You in there?”
The chair holding the door shut shakes.
“What’s going on? Why can’t I get in there?”
My eyes widen. “Is that—”
“Yes.” He doesn’t even let me finish. He just gets up and moves the chair away from the door, sending Erik nearly falling into the room.
His eyes dart between us, taking in my flushed cheeks and Scotty’s slightly disheveled hair.
“Shit, did I miss something?”
“Oh my,” is all I can choke out as I take him in. “What are you wearing?”
He tilts his head before lifting his white bushy tail. “Princess, if you can’t tell I’m Mr. Nibbles, then we have a problem.”
“What the—”
“I know, I know.” Erik strikes a pose. “I make this look good, don’t I? Though I have to say, walking in on what is clearly post-coital bliss wasn't part of the plan. Scotty, we’ve only got five minutes.”
“We weren't—” I start, my face burning.
“Relax, Princess. I'm kidding.” He winks. “Mostly. But seriously, we've got to get out there. Our number's up soon.”
“Our number?” I look between them. “Erik, what—”
“Surprise!” Erik does a little spin, the tail swishing. “I'm your Mr. Nibbles for the evening. Scotty had this brilliant idea about adding some extra flair to your audition, and who better to play an adorable but slightly unhinged fox than yours truly?”
“You planned this?” I ask Scotty.
“I had a plan to help distract from any skating mistakes,” he says with a shrug. “Erik volunteered.”
“Volunteered is a strong word. I was recruited with promises of fame, glory, and a redemption arc for the ages.” Erik adjusts his fox ears. “Also, have you seen me in this costume? I'm absolutely precious.”
Despite everything—the nerves, the fear, the insanity of what we're about to do—I start laughing. Real, genuine laughter that shakes my shoulders.
“This is insane,” I manage.
“This is perfect,” Scotty corrects, taking my hand. “You ready, Princess?”
I look at him—at this beautiful, ridiculous man who just made me come in a locker room while dressed as a prince, who convinced his teammate to dress up as a cartoon fox, who's done everything to help me achieve my dream.
He’s perfect, and I’m so fucking in love with him, it’s unreal.
“Yeah,” I say, squeezing his hand. “I'm ready.”
“Good.” Erik heads for the door. “Because Mr. Nibbles waits for no one. Let's go show them what we've got.”
As we walk toward the rink entrance, I can hear the music starting. My heart is racing again, but this time it's excitement, not fear.
Scotty squeezes my hand one more time. “Remember—”
“You'll catch me if I fall,” I finish.
“Every single time.”
The lights hit us as we step onto the ice, and I take a deep breath.
This is it.
Time to shine.