green-juice-guzzling, chirpy cheerleader type?
I would definitely have to go celibate.
In my closet, I reach into my drawer and pull out a lacy pink thong, singing to myself as I slip it over my hips – and realize there's something wrong with it as soon as the cool air hits my pussy.
I don't own any crotchless panties.
Yet that's exactly what these are. I reach into my underwear drawer and pull out another pair and it's the same – a long slice right up the middle of the fabric.
A giggle starts to build up in my chest, and I rummage through every pair of underwear in my drawer.
That asshole cut up every single pair of panties I own.
Well, two can play this game.
I dress, purposely choosing the short plaid pleated skirt that seemed to make Max crazy before. I pair it with a white oxford shirt, unbuttoning it down my breasts and tying it above my waist. Then I pleat my hair in two braids.
It's very Britney Spears, circa late nineties.
When I leave my room, one of the non-Max bodyguards gives me a bored look from his post at the end of the hallway. "Your Highness," he says, his voice clipped. "I've been instructed by the future queen to tell you that you and the future princess Isabella are to meet the future queen to be fitted for your dresses for the wedding."
I groan loudly, then sigh exaggeratedly and let my shoulders slump. "You really know how to ruin a girl's day, James," I say reflexively, pausing as soon as the word comes out of my mouth. James doesn't feel as appropriate a name for my bodyguards now that I've been calling Max that for so long. It somehow feels reserved for him. "What's your name, anyway?"
"I'm sorry – my name, Your Highness?"
"Yeah, you know, that thing people call you? What is it?"
"Bradley, Your Highness."
"Well, Bradley," I say, grabbing the agenda from him and looking at the location. "You're ruining my good mood. Did I tell you that already?"
"I apologize, Your Highness."
I let out a long exhale, ignoring the very small impulse inside of me to go run back to my room and drink copious amounts of booze to get through the horror of a dress fitting for my father's wedding to the Ice Queen. "Let's just go get this over with."
When I arrive, I see that ne of the sitting rooms has been converted into a dressing room with three separate dressing areas sectioned off by large wooden privacy screens. Two dressing areas flank each side of the room, semi-circles of ornate screens that go all the way up to the walls, and then there's a large circle of screens in the middle that has a huge array of full-length mirrors and a platform nearby.
Inside the room, a team of at least ten people bustle around busily, carrying fabrics and pins and tape measures, all with serious expressions like they're surgeons in the middle of a life-threatening operation. Someone in a tuxedo carries flutes of champagne on a tray, and a freaking pianist plays music on the grand piano in the corner.
It's completely ridiculous.
Belle walks up behind me. "This is crazy," she whispers. "I'm glad you're being forced to do it with me."
"Your mother sure knows how to make something out of nothing," I add. "Why couldn't we just try on the dresses in our rooms like normal people?"
Belle rolls her eyes. "Because my mother will want to control every part of this event." She giggles. "There's a piano player. Can you believe it?"
The Ice Queen is already inside the room and when she looks up to see us, she waves us away, pointing to the next door. "Go around to the next rooms and through the doors to get inside your dressing areas," she orders. "They've already been set up for you and the dresses are inside. I'll send in staff to help you."
"Um, no," I protest. "I'm pretty sure I can try on a dress myself without assistance from anyone else, thank you very much."
"Ditto for me, Mom," Belle says. She leans over and whispers, "Solidarity."
"Fine, fine," Sofia says dismissively, waving us off – and then glaring when we're still standing there. "On your way."
Belle gives me a look and rolls her eyes before heading toward the other room. I do the same, but when I open the door to the newly-created fitting area, it's not empty. There's a table inside with my accessories laid out neatly on it.
Max is standing there beside the dress form where my dress hangs, a floor-length lavender silk number that's prim and proper and shows zero cleavage.
He puts a finger to his lips, as if I would announce to everyone that he was standing here. Even if he was talking out loud, I'm not sure anyone would hear him over the piano player and Sofia's tipsy directions to the people dressing her.
Even so, he shouldn't be here. There are a million people bustling around a few feet away from us. Not just people – my new stepfamily.
And a pianist.
And this room isn't even a room; it's a screened-in area, easily accessible if someone wanted to barge in here.
"What do you think you're doing?" I hiss.
Max smiles and steps close to me, taking one of my braids in his hands and sliding his fingers down it. "I like the braids," he whispers. "I assume you found my gift?"
I snort, immediately covering my mouth with my hand. "Is that what you call cutting up all of my panties?" I whisper. "A gift?"
"Well, it's a gift for me," he murmurs. "Are you wearing them? Spread your legs and show me."
"Not here," I protest. "Everyone is right outside."
"I'm aware of that fact," he says softly, his lips near my ear. "And I still want you to spread your legs for me."
He knows I can't resist him. Heat floods my body as I do exactly what he requests. When I spread my legs, his fingers go immediately underneath my skirt and straight to my pussy. He lets out a low rumble near my ear. "You wore them," he observes. "Such a bad girl, wearing panties with a hole in them made for my cock."
"Unfortunately, all of my panties have holes in them now."
"Mmm." He reaches behind my back to my skirt, unzipping it, and it falls to the floor around my feet. "It's funny how that works. I guess that means I'll always be able to get what I need."
What he needs.
No one's ever needed me before.
He palms my ass cheeks, murmuring approvingly in my ear before untying my shirt and sliding it over my arms.
"What do you think you're doing, exactly?" I whisper.
"I'm going to help you get dressed, since people are waiting for you."
As if on cue, Sofia calls loudly, "I hope you girls will let us know if you need any help!"
"I'm fine," I yell.
I'm almost disappointed when Max pulls the dress off the form and slips it over my head, pulling down the puffy layers of skirt around my hips before I can protest. "I thought you were helping me undress," I whisper. I slide my palm down the front of his pants where he's very, very hard. "You were obviously enjoying helping me take my clothes off, so why are you helping me put them on?"
"If you keep doing that with your hand, you won't have to worry about what you're dressed like, because I'll make you suck my cock right here in the middle of the fitting," he warns. "With everyone out there listening."
I bite my lip at the thought, the idea so filthy I can hardly stand it.
Max can read my expression immediately, and he grins. "Oh, you love that idea, don't you?"
"You should get out of here," I tell him. "I have to show them this dress."
"Or, I should bend you over and fuck you right here in your bridesmaid's dress."
My heart races. That's the dirtiest thing I've ever heard – and it makes me wet.
Max's hands go to his pants, and before I know it, they're down around his thighs and he's stroking his cock right here in front of me. Right here, in the middle of everything. He gives me a look that says he means business now. "I'm going to bend you over and fuck you right here behind these screens and you're going to come on
my cock while everyone's waiting for you and that dress."
I have to bite my lip again to stifle the whimper that escapes my lips. Could I really do that, right here with everyone just outside? "That’s so wrong," I whisper.
He smirks. "Bend over and put your hands on the table, Alexandra," he orders. "I want to see just how wet your pussy is at the thought of doing something so wrong."
My heart beats furiously in my chest, but heat surges between my legs. Bending over, I place my palms flat on the table next to the diamond necklace and long gloves that have been carefully laid out for me. Behind me, Max pushes up the silky, appropriate, sweet little bridesmaid dress, his hands skimming over my ass cheeks. "Careful," I warn him. "This is some expensive, custom-made, silk designer thing."
"You know my history with you and designer dresses," he growls. "Now spread your legs so I can see that perfect pussy." When he reaches between my legs, he discovers just how wet I really am. "Look at you, trying to be good and telling me I should leave, when you're dripping for me."
He slides his fingers along my slit to demonstrate, and I push my fingertips against the surface of the desk as I try to stifle a moan. "Does the idea of me fucking you right here in your bridesmaid dress, with your new stepmother outside, turn you on?" he asks. "She'd have a heart attack if she knew what dirty things you were going to do in this precious little dress."
It's so wrong, but it definitely turns me on.
Max slides his fingers inside me, spreading me and teasing me, as I try to focus on not letting a single sound escape my lips. I can hear every movement of his fingers, coated in my wetness, the sound amplified to my ears. When he presses the tip of his cock to my entrance, his skin bare and warm against me, I think I'm going to come already.
"Fuck, I love your bare little cunt," he whispers in my ear, sending goose bumps all over my body. "I love how wet you are and how tight you are. I want to fill this little pussy up with my cum and send you out of here to that fitting with me dripping from between your legs."
The thought makes me whimper out loud. I immediately bite down on my lip hard as my blood pounds in my ears. Neither of us can afford to be outed like this, but I'm so overcome by lust, I can't think rationally.
The crinkle of the condom wrapper is deafening, and I whirl around, putting my hand on his. "No condom," I whisper, my need desperate. "I'm on the pill anyway, and I'm clean."
This isn't a conversation we should be having right here in barely audible whispers in the middle of a faux dressing room – outside of which everyone is buzzing around loudly, seemingly oblivious to us.
Hopefully, they're completely oblivious.
Max growls softly, pulling me against him. "Are you sure?" he asks. "I'm clean too."
I barely finish whispering the words before he's spinning me back around, his hands on mine as he bends me over and places my palms on the table. He yanks up the back of my skirt, his hardness pressing against my thigh. His pre-cum leaks onto my skin and the thought of him coming inside me right here, him dripping out of me, turns me on so much I can't think about anything else.
"Fuck, I wanted the first time I was bare inside you to be special," he groans, his voice tight. "Not bending you over like this. But you drive me crazy."
My pussy throbs, begging for release. Begging for him. "Please," I whisper. "Fuck me."
Outside, Sofia calls loudly, "Alexandra, did you say something?"
"It's Alex!" I yell, but then I'm distracted by Max spreading my ass cheeks and sliding his cock inside my wet pussy. He lets out a low groan, and I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder, my eyes big. "Shhh…"
"Do you need any help?" Sofia calls.
"You need help getting off, don't you, sweetheart?" Max whispers as he thrusts inside me. "You needed this, didn't you?"
"Yes," I moan loudly, then clear my throat, yelling for Sofia's benefit: "No! No help needed!"
Max chuckles, gripping my hips with his hands and fucking me with long, slow thrusts. My muscles clamp down tightly around him, my body trying desperately to pull him deeper inside. He teases me with such slow strokes, like he doesn't care whether we get caught or not. For a second, I wonder what happened to the rule-abiding, safe bodyguard who was waiting for me at the bottom of the palace wall the first day we met. The man inside me now is bold, reckless, and … fucking hot.
"I can send in someone to assist," Sofia calls.
Does she ever shut up?
"I'm good!" I shout, then I bring one hand to my own mouth to keep from crying out as Max fucks me harder, my other hand on the desk to keep me upright.
"Oh, you are so good," he moans, thrusting so hard that the desk jumps an inch, creaking loudly. Anyone out there would have heard the noise, if it weren't for the fact that the pianist chooses that exact moment to launch into the crescendo of the classical piece he's playing, the music growing louder and louder.
Max's thrusts speed up in tempo with the music. I'm so wet, I'm dripping onto my inner thighs. "You're so fucking soaked for me," he murmurs. "Do you even understand how good your wet pussy feels around my cock? Do you know how tight you are, how much you fit me like a glove?"
As if on cue, my muscles squeeze him tighter, and I'm so close to coming I could scream.
"Reach between your legs and touch your clit," he whispers, his voice urgent. "Do it for me now, sweetheart, because I can't wait. I need you to come for me right now."
"Alexandra?" Sofia yells. At the same time, the music stops completely. Either the pianist is in between pieces or everything has paused because the room full of people can hear us fucking and we're about to be discovered and we're completely screwed.
The problem is, I'm so far gone that I don't even care if that's the case, because right now, I'm reaching between my legs to rub my clit with my fingers and Max is fucking me so deeply. I think I might have lost my mind completely right now.
"Alexandra, are you coming?" Sofia calls.
"Yes!" I call loudly. Max's grip on my hips tighten and he thrusts inside me hard, the head of his cock going so deeply into me and hitting me so right that I know I'm going to explode. My hands slip on the desk and I pitch forward, nearly going face-first against the surface. I barely catch myself, but the gloves and the necklace go clattering to the floor. I come with a vengeance, my orgasm washing over me just as Max lets go inside of me and floods my pussy with his warmth. "Yes, yes, yes, yes!"
I think my heart might have stopped beating entirely. Outside, there's total silence, no music on the piano. In here, Max is paused with his hands on my hips steadying me as my muscles squeeze him and his body twitches as he continues to come inside me. I'm dying as I try to keep from crying out loud as my orgasm continues.
If it weren't for the fact that we could both be in very real, very serious trouble, the whole thing would be comical.
Then Sofia speaks. "Well, that's a very enthusiastic response. I take it you like it, then?"
She's referring to the dress, but Max whispers in my ear. "My cum is dripping from you. Do you like it?"
I close my eyes as he pulls me up, his arms wrapping around me and holding me against his chest. "I love it!" I call loudly, trying to stifle the giggle building inside me. "I love it so very, very much."
"I'm so pleased," Sofia calls.
The music starts up again, and I breathe a sigh of relief – relief and post-orgasmic bliss.
Max murmurs in my ear. "Are you pleased too, dirty girl?"
"I'm pleased," I yell.
He pulls my dress down around me. "When you're standing there and they're altering your dress and my cum is dripping down your thighs, I want you to think of me."
It's impossible to think of anything else.