8. CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER THREE
SEBASTIAN
“Sir, she is ready.”
I don’t look up. I don’t want to.
Everything has become such a chore I can’t even will myself to leave my room anymore. It sounds pathetic, I know. Trust me, I know, but it’s the truth. I can’t remember the last time I had a say in anything, but that’s just the life of a prince it seems.
The juliet roses and peony pastelgances are finally starting to bloom, something I look forward to after such a long winter.
My father is hoping for a plentiful season, so are the farmers on the kingdom’s furthest boundaries.
So far, it’s warm, almost too warm for spring, but I’m not complaining.
I absolutely hate the cold, even though I run hot.
Nothing will ever beat a warm day spent laying on the grass in the garden.
“Sir?” Phillip speaks again.
“I heard you the first time.” The snark in my tone isn’t warranted, but it comes out anyway. “She will wait.”
My eyes close as I acknowledge her. She will wait; she always does. I’ve left her in anticipation for hours before and she didn’t move from the comfort of the mattress, the silk sheets wrapped effortlessly around her body.
It’s funny, really, how I refer to my wife as her.
Mary Harold. Well, it was Mary Harold, but now, she is Mary Baros, a woman of beauty and class who hailed from the Kingdom of Tria.
There isn’t an argument over her features being anything less than perfection.
My father agrees with that, stating on a weekly basis how I should feel like the luckiest man in the world. He is more intrigued by her than I am.
As far as I’m concerned, she is just another bitch in heat.
It’s rude, but it’s true.
We don’t speak to each other unless absolutely necessary. That’s mainly my fault; I avoid her like the plague. Mary is persistent, annoyingly so, constantly insisting we need to be more than a forced marriage. Though, that’s what this is, so why would I treat it as anything else?
She doesn’t love me, and I certainly do not love her.
We are just… tied together by name. Now after two years of tedious sex; I’m burnt out.
I’m only twenty-two years old and I am nowhere near ready to start a family, but it’s expected of me.
If only she would catch; I would have no need to touch her again.
My feet move on sheer will alone as I make my way out of my chambers to the consummation room.
I refuse to share my room with her, no matter how many times she protests and runs to my father.
I’m a man that enjoys my space, and that won’t happen if she is also sharing that same space.
There is also that lingering, ominous feeling that I would wake up in the middle of the night to her trying to suck the soul from my cock.
Fuck. I need a drink.
Mary is an actress. Or, rather, she should be.
The woman is loud when we have sex. Unnecessarily so, to the point where I know it’s her putting on an act for the others in the room.
Yes, others. It is a goddamn afternoon film for half of the staff in the palace, and it makes everything even more complicated.
I’m not shy when it comes to being nude. If I’m being honest, I prefer it, but that’s frowned upon. I also know my performance in bed is far from subpar. You can ask any one of the staff, especially Freya. She has never had a single complaint.
“I’m almost there, Sebastian, please—”
A sigh leaves my lips, followed by a grunt before I manage to grab a fistful of Mary’s long, sandy blonde hair, pushing her face further into the pillows. If she wants me to cum, then she needs to stop talking. I can’t think when she is ballistic beneath me.
I hike her hips up to allow my own to go harder, snapping them in a harsh rhythm that makes her shout and babble nonsense.
Fuck. I need this to be over. There’s a migraine brewing on the horizon.
All she has to do is lay there and be quiet, but of course she can’t accomplish that one, simple feat.
Mary’s gasps and shouts continue to grow until my ears are ringing and I can’t think.
“For the love of god, Mary, please shut up,” I groan, my eyes squeezing shut to subdue the pressure building in my skull as I bully my cock into her from behind.
“I can’t help it! You are so big, daddy.”
And… it’s ruined.
My body rips away from hers as if she has touched me with a hot poker, my ass hitting the silk sheets as I run my hands frustratingly through my hair.
I’m not going for another hour because she can’t stop, and I certainly can’t will my dick to rise back up, considering the way it already lays limp against my thigh.
Even my dick is aggravated. How fucking hilarious.
Sweat drips down my chest, rolling over my stomach, and my gaze follows the movement as I catch my breath.
I swear, fucking Mary is far worse than running five miles straight.
All because my dick is a dick and won’t produce when I need it to.
I ignore the shuffling in the room, the hushed murmurs of the staff falling on deaf ears.
Everyone knows that there needs to be an heir.
Tensions are on the rise, with both royal families barking about the lack of a baby.
Two years is a long time in their world it seems. It’s a lot of pressure on me, and I’ve never handled pressure well, especially when it’s something I don’t feel comfortable doing.
Life as a fucking royal.
“Sebastian! What the hell!” Mary shouts. My head throbs. “Don’t ignore me! This is the sixth time you’ve done this!”
She’s right. It’s been six times consecutively I’ve stopped before I was able to finish.
“Well, darling, if you did as I asked, then maybe I could finish,” I snap back, while my leg hikes up so I can rest my elbow on it.
“Sebastian.”
My gaze lifts to see Georgina. When did she come in? Usually she doesn't, which could only mean she’s bringing me yet again another handmaid. I don’t want one. I’ll run off every single one if I need to.
Unfortunately, Georgina is even more stubborn than I am.
The woman stares at me and I know immediately she is going to scold me later. Most wouldn’t dare, but this is Georgina, and she was more of a mother to me than my own has ever been.
“Hello, Georgina,” I say nonchalantly, a small smile pulling up on my lips which she reciprocates. “What do I owe the pleasure of my favorite girl coming to see me?” Mary scoffs. I ignore her.
Georgina steps to the side and that’s when I see her.
Long brown hair that’s almost black, falls pin-straight and frames her face like a curtain waiting to be drawn back.
Her lips are full and pink, a sharp contrast against her porcelain skin.
She’s got these huge, dark eyes currently wide and locked on me as if she’s seen a ghost. Strange.
Even though she looks at me with sheer shock, I can’t help but admire how beautiful she is. Ridiculously beautiful.
“And you are?” I say slowly, my hand coming up to push at Mary’s chest once I feel her drawing in close.
“You’re naked,” the woman says, hushed and shaky.
“I am.”
“The towels?”
“Not needed.” My eyebrows furrow. This girl is different, a bit odd.
I don’t move to grab the robe on the end of the bed. Why would I do that when I have a pretty little thing staring at me the way she is? While it is sick to even be amused by it; I can’t help it. A part of me is also amused by the seething that is without a doubt happening from my wife.
“Are you going to tell me your name, Little Dove?” I ask again, infatuated with the way her cheeks heat as soon as the words leave my lips. Georgina is going to yank me by the ear later; I can already feel it.
“Victoria Pierce, Your Highness,” her — Victoria’s voice is firmer now.
“I prefer Little Dove.”
Victoria eyes me warily while her jaw ticks. “Respectfully, I’m not a bird, sir,” she retorts, and I can’t help the way my lips pull higher.
“Not just any bird. A dove. Small head, short legs, cooing voice. They are rather delicate birds, or are you not familiar with them?” I continue, enjoying the budding fire behind those dark eyes a little too much.
Victoria’s lip’s part and I can feel the venom on the tip of her tongue.
She’s going to get me in trouble. The serpent in the Garden of Eden, ready to lure me in to eat that stupid apple, condemning me to a life of sin.
The fight never comes, considering Georgina snatches her attention by hushing something into Victoria’s ear that has her straightening up.
Though, her eyes are still on me, and I’ll take that as a silent victory.
“I’m taking a bath,” I announce before sliding off the edge of the bed, my hands resting lazily on my bare hips. “I like the water hot.” Victoria’s eyes flicker over me. “Afterward, I expect my coffee to be ready for me. Bl—”
“Black, two shots of espresso,” Victoria counters. My lips twitch with amusement.
My body moves closer, two steps, until I’m standing tall before her. I have to tilt my chin down to get her fully in view, she is roughly a foot shorter than I am. From here, I can see a faint dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose.
“Add two scoops of sugar, Little Dove.” The whites of my teeth are out on display. “I’m feeling particularly sweet this afternoon.”
I excuse myself, stepping around Georgina and Victoria so I can retreat to my own room to get a few things before I wash the sweat from my body. Mary’s arousal has dried on my cock and I’m more than uncomfortable with the feeling. If I’m lucky, she will let me have the night off.
Then again, it is Mary, so the odds of that are slim.
Fuck, I need a drink.