Flashback Chapter
The simplest things could either complicate, ruin, or strengthen ones relationship with another.
It was a gorgeous night in England, specifically in the province of Windsor. Although, night had bestowed among Windsor, the stars were not visible to the naked eye. But, nonetheless, it was still a beautiful night at the Windsor Castle.
Hundreds of fashionably dressed guests roamed the Royal ballroom, laughing amongst the latest gossips, catching up on compatriots they'd hadn't seen in years, and even drinking their night away. The King-Mathias and his wife, Miranda, greeted each guest respectively. It is their thirtieth year of marriage and they were a happy couple, the two. But, as they stood at the entrance door of the ballroom, they could sense that their eldest son was not as happy as they were in his own relationship with his fiancée.
Prince Vincent, the couple's son, might've been the only one who seemed to not have been enjoying the ball as his family's guests had been. He was seated at a round table off to the side of the room, a half empty wine glass twisted between his thumb and forefinger. It was a woman that he'd been gazing upon. She'd managed to catch his attention months ago, the moment she'd stepped into the castle on her first day. The tenth of March, he remembered so vividly.
The woman was short, but curvy with wild, curly-kinky hair. When it wasn't being tamed by a tight bun, as it is now, her hair would frame her oval shaped face, surrounding her head entirely. He'd spent months on end, thinking of the next time he'd feel her curly tresses through his fingers. It aroused him greatly to imagine the struggle she must've gone through to get her hair in its current state. The thought of her loose coils hanging on the nape of her neck caused an incoherent groan to escape his lips.
Coffee...light coffee is how he liked to describe her delicious complexion. But, her skin was not just the appearance of light coffee, it was like smooth coffee. Caramel macchiato. It was the coffee he drunk every Saturday with his younger sister, Genevieve. He didn't even like coffee; he preferred sweet tea. But, the moment he laid eyes on her beautiful complexion, coffee became his obsession. The thought of tasting her delicate skin, stirred the blood in his groin.
His eyes intensely raked over her toned body, slowing drinking in every curvaceous detail of her body. He imagined the facial gestures she'd make if he were inside of her...deep inside of her. He sensually licked and bit his bottom lip.
He groaned in sexual frustration, attracting the surprised expressions of a trio of elderly women. He sheepishly apologized as he rose from his seat. He didn't want them to bombard him with countless inquiries. He squeezed himself into the crowd to escape the older women, making his way to the other side of the ballroom. He was getting closer and closer to the woman he craved. Just a few feet away and he could already taste how sweet she may be.
She was alone, holding a silver platter in her left hand, hovering it above her shoulder. Generally, this was a good thing for him; but, whether there were witnesses or not, he was still going to get a taste of her.
Suddenly, just as he was in arm's reach of her, she turned in the opposite direction. He couldn't watch her in shock because her body was distracting him too much. His eyes were attached to her ample rear. He noted that, unlike the other maids, her uniform was a bit raised in the back end. It showed the deep arch in her back, as well the roundness of her backside. He loved it and it turned him on.
He watched as she made her way to a group of men. Although her face was stoic and emotionless, she knew the men lusted after her. They eyed her, hungrily, like a pack of wolves would a deer. It reminded him of the first day she began working at Windsor. He, too, eyed her like a piece of meat, just as he is now. So, who was he to judge? She isn't his, but she will be soon.
"Drink, please," he called out, signaling with his hand for her to serve him. He wanted more than a beverage serving; he wanted a physical serving.
At the sound of his familiar, baritone voice, she turned her head in his direction. Her deep, chocolate eyes settled on his arctic blue orbs. A wave of recognition blew through her as she sent him a benevolent smile. She made her way to him, slightly struggling to keep the remaining wine glasses from spilling over.
"Good evening, You're Majesty," she greeted. "I hope you like-."
As much as he hated to cut off the sound of her alluring voice, he had to. He sensuously hushed her with a sly grin as he placed a gentle finger against her plump lips. "Would you come up to my room for a drink," he entreated sensually as his thumb tugged lightly on her bottom lip.
She knew he wanted her, he confessed in his exact words: "'If I could right now, I'd have you in front of the grand stairs for everyone to see.'" She knew he was sexually active, and generally didn't think anything of his behavior. She believed it to be normal for a Prince to occasionally flirt with the castle's maids.
However, they had discussed their situation, as they both agreed that their relationship was just for fun. Slowly, they developed an amorous friendship. They'd kiss one another, excluding mouth-to-mouth connection. Cuddling was common, and so was groping, but they would only do so in private, of course. Be that as it may, their beneficial friendship deteriorated the moment she discovered his engagement.
He missed the taste of her delicate skin and longed for the appreciation of what her tongue would feel like, dancing against his own.
"I doubt I'm allowed to just leave," she stated with an ounce of concern lacing in her tone.
"Come on. I only want to talk to you. We haven't had a decent conversation in such a long time. Please," he beseeched, taking her free hand in both of his larger, pale ones. His blue eyes brightened with warmth.
She bit down on her bottom lip and glanced around the ballroom, suspiciously, to see if anyone was looking in their direction. Not a single glance.
"Okay, fine. But only to talk," she agreed, warningly.
A smirk-like-smile formed on his handsome countenance as he took the last two glasses of wine from the silver platter. He waited patiently for her to set the platter on a nearby table before leading her silently to his Royal chambers.
Their walk through the castle was somewhat of a long one. They were both silent, except for the occasional sips she would take from her glass.
By the time they made it to his bedchambers, her entire glass was empty. She pouted her lips and furrowed her brows. He noticed this and chuckled, opening his door.
"Don't worry, I have some wine that I hope you'll like," he said smoothly as he locked the door behind her. He made his way to the warm wine bottle sitting on his nightstand. He propped open the cork with a corkscrew and swirled the wine bottle slowly. He loves his wine to be swirled.
She watched, intrigued, as the bloody red liquid poured smoothly into her glass. He continued to pour himself a glass and sat beside her, ensuring that their thighs grazed one another.
"Toast," she suggested in that beautiful voice he loved to hear.
He chuckled, relishing in her melodic voice. "Toast, to your beauty," he said.
Before she could question him on what he said, he clinked their glasses together and lightly sipped his own glass of wine.
He watched with an arousing interest as she gulped down the small amount of wine in her mouth.
"So, what did you want to talk about," she said in an attempt to bring up a conversation.
"Anything that will make you stay in here with me," he answered somberly
"Sir, we talked-"
"I know we've talked about this. But, I need you now. I really need you," he said sincerely.
"I can't. I already told you. I know you can't take no as an answer, but with me, you will," she said genuinely, as she sat her glass down and began to get up.
He wasn't going to let her leave without him at least trying.
He set his glass down as well. He abruptly grabbed her wrist and tugged her back, toward him. "You really don't understand how much I need you right now. I don't want any other woman right now, but you. You've been the only woman that has managed to consume my thoughts," he said, staring intensely into her molasses colored eyes.
"But, what about...her," she whispered, her breath tickling his facial features.
He visibly stiffened at the inquiry, but quickly recovered.
He hadn't answered her and his silence was making her nervous. She anxiously licked her bottom lip, unknowingly arousing him much more.
He ignored her question and quickly leaned in to kiss her. The act of kissing was nothing new to him, but the feeling of kissing her sent sparks through his nerves. His large hands traveled down her back and to her ass, his hands slid beneath her skirts and to her undergarments. He cupped each cheek into each of his hands and pulled her closer to him.
Her arms wrapped around his neck tightly as she picked up her knees to straddle his waist. A moan escaped her lips at the feel of his touch. She slowly grinded into him, creating a rhythm that, he too, became accustomed to.
Her hands traveled down his torso, trembling to feel his warm skin against hers. Her fingers slid beneath his suit, feeling every muscle of his abs. It enticed her and made her want more.
Every article of clothing was removed as they hungrily, yet romantically explored one another's bodies. He relished in every hill of her breast, or curve of her hip, he loved it all because it was all her. She was his, all his.