CHRIS

"Sarah..." Her name barely escaped my lips as I stepped closer, desperate to close the space she'd put between us. The chill of her absence still lingered on my palm, like ice seeping into my skin, an emptiness I couldn't ignore.

I reached for her arm, just to anchor her, to reassure her-or maybe myself-but the moment my fingers grazed her sleeve, she flinched and sidestepped, pulling farther away.

The sting hit harder than it should've, sharp and unrelenting, leaving confusion and something dangerously close to hurt churning in my chest. Why was she retreating like this? What had I done?

Everything was perfect, so fucking perfect and now this?

Maybe I said something wrong, but what... fuck.... what the hell did I say to ruin this.

"You got your dance," she said quickly, grabbing her phone and heels. Her hands trembled, and if I looked closely, I could swear she was afraid. "I'll see you tomorrow."

No way! She can't leave just yet. "Sarah, did I say something wrong? If I did, I-"

"No," she cut me off, her voice breaking slightly. "You're fine. I just... I need to go."

Please... don't go.

She turned to leave, but her foot caught on the edge of the bench. The sharp crash of glass shattering on the floor stopped her in her tracks. Her head whipped around, her eyes wide in alarm.

"Shit." She dropped her phone and heels onto the bench, crouching down to pick up the broken pieces of the wine glass. "I'm so sorry--"

"Stop!" My voice came out sharper than I intended, startling her. She froze mid-reach, her fingers hovering over a shard of glass.

"Don't move," I ordered, stepping closer. My gaze darted to her bare feet against the cold ground and how if I didn't stop how she would have been injured within seconds.

"I'm just cleaning it-"

"No," I cut her off firmly, crouching down beside her. "You're not wearing any damn shoes for fuck sake. You'll cut yourself."

She blinked up at me, her lips parting to argue, but before she could say anything, I slid my arms under her and scooped her off the ground in one fluid motion.

"Chris! Put me down!" she protested, squirming in my hold.

"Not a chance," I said through gritted teeth, my grip tightening as I carried her away from the mess. "You're not getting hurt because you're too stubborn to listen."

Her hands instinctively clutched at my shoulders, her wide eyes locked on mine. "I wasn't going to hurt myself. You're overreacting."

"And you're reckless," I shot back, lowering her onto the ground, far away from the glass. I crouched in front of her, making sure her feet were safely glass-free. "What if you stepped on something? What if-" I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. "What if you hurt yourself?"

She gulped." I won't. Seriously they didn't look like much-"

"Don't." I cut her off, my voice rougher than I meant it to be. "Don't try to fight me on this and for once just listen to me... please."

I stared deep into her eyes, wanting her to understand that just the sight of her nearly in pain could wreck and haunt my dreams for weeks.

Her protests died on her lips, and she stared at me, her eyes searching mine. Whatever she was looking for, I hoped she could tell how dead serious I was on this.

I turned back toward the bench, grabbing her phone and heels. Her gaze followed me, soft yet wary, like she was unsure of what to expect next. As I returned, I held up the shoes, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you want to wear these, or should we leave them off for now?" I asked, my tone casual, though my heart was still racing.

She stared at me for a long moment, her lips parting slightly like she wanted to say something. Instead, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave a small nod.

"Okay," she whispered.

I knelt in front of her, the movement deliberate and unhurried. Taking one of her delicate feet in my hand, I gently positioned the heel.

"Chris, oh no, get up. I'll wear it myself," she said quickly, her voice high-pitched and nervous. Her wide eyes darted around, scanning the room like someone might burst in at any moment. "What if one of the guards comes here, or Alex-"

"Then they'll see I'm taking care of my fiancée," I interrupted calmly, my eyes locking with hers. "So please, calm down and let me do this, okay?"

Her lips pressed together, and for a moment, I braced myself for her usual protests. I waited for her to argue, to tell me she wasn't mine, that I didn't have the right to do this. But instead, she surprised me.

She nodded again, slower this time, her posture relaxing as if she'd decided to trust me-if only for a moment.

I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips as I slipped the first heel onto her foot, my fingers brushing against her skin. Her ankle was soft, her foot delicate, and I suddenly felt an odd mix of emotions. Pride? Possessiveness?

Well, whatever it was, it felt so fucking good.

I moved to the second shoe, acutely aware of her watching me. Her gaze felt heavier than it should have, and it made me heart go sky high. The way she stood there, quietly letting me do this for her. She was actually listening to me, not fighting or trying to run away.

I was definitely never forgetting this.

"You're staring," I said quietly, glancing up at her.

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't look away.

"I'm not staring at you."

I looked up at her, raising a brow with a full smirk on my face."Oh really?" I could see her throat gulp from this view."Then what are you looking at?"

She looked away now. "My heels, of course."

I chuckled softly, looking back down as I secured the second heel. "Whatever you say, love."

I knew she was probably blushing but wouldn't admit to it even if I tease her about it so I didn't bother looking up instead I let my hands linger on her foot for a moment longer than necessary before finally standing and giving her my usual charming smile.

"Ready,"

"For?"

"To your room, of course," I said, glancing at my watch. "It's already late, and I probably have a ton of meetings tomorrow now that I've been crowned." I sighed, the thought of Alfred waking me up at the crack of dawn already exhausting. He'd march in, announcing how I needed to visit dukes and other so-called important figures who couldn't be bothered to attend the coronation. It was, apparently, the crowned prince's duty to meet them all.

The coronation being held in the evening, unlike in most kingdoms, was an odd tradition of ours-one no one dared challenge.

For once, though, I didn't mind the rule.

Fewer guests meant less gossip.

I didn't need a thousand people celebrating my coronation when the only person I truly wanted by my side was the woman standing right in front of me.

Sigh. If only Sarah and I weren't so complicated. What I wouldn't give to wake up beside her-not for anything physical, but simply to hold her close, let her scent consume me, and maybe, just maybe, share a heating morning shower together.

My cock tingled with excitement as my thoughts spiraled further, painting a vivid image of her perfect form. I could almost see the water trailing down her flawless skin, gliding over the curves of her breasts, lingering on those sensitive nipples. My breath hitched at the thought of how the coldness would make them stiff, achingly tempting.

Damn it.

In my mind, I leaned in, brushing my lips over each peak, savoring the sharp intake of her breath when I kissed them softly. Then came the bite-just enough pressure to make her gasp-and the long, deliberate strokes of my tongue that would leave her moaning my name, trembling with need--

"Um... Chris?"

The sound of her voice snapped me back to reality like a bucket of ice water.

Shit.

She was still here, standing mere feet away, and I was so lost in my fantasies that I hadn't noticed the strain in my pants. I shifted uncomfortably, my jaw tightening as I fought to compose myself.

Fucking hell.

How could I let my mind wander like that with her right in front of me? My body ached with the memory of what we'd done just hours ago-the way she'd unraveled beneath me, every sound and movement so perfectly imprinted in my mind. But I hadn't let myself go then.

I hadn't taken my release.

Now I was paying the price, teetering dangerously close to blue balls, and the mere sight of her was making it harder-literally-to keep control.

"It's late. We should start leaving," I said, thankful for the dim lights in the hallway. They cast long shadows, obscuring just enough that neither she nor anyone passing by would notice my... predicament.

She didn't comment, didn't lash or push, which I was grateful for. Instead, we walked in silence, the quiet only broken by the soft echo of our footsteps against the stone floor.

When we stopped in front of her room, I glanced at the guard standing by the door.

"Go and find one of the maids," I instructed, my tone firm but even. "Tell them there's broken glass nearby. Make sure they're careful when they clean it up."

The guard nodded briskly and left, leaving just Sarah and me.

The silence between us grew heavier, and I was about to say something when she cleared her throat.

"Didn't know you had it in you," she said, her voice laced with something I couldn't quite place.

I raised an eyebrow. "Had what?"

"A soft tone. You're usually so... harsh with people beneath you."

I frowned slightly, caught off guard. This hadn't been the first or second time she'd talked about how rude I was with the servants but hearing it once more stung harder than I'd expected.

"I didn't realize," I started, then stopped myself. No, that wasn't true. I had realized. "Okay, maybe I did. But I'm working on it."

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, and I could see the faintest flicker of amusement in her expression.

"What? You think I can't change?" I asked, keeping my voice steady, though I fought the urge to step closer to her. My body betrayed me enough as it was-I needed the distance.

She shook her head, her lips curving into a faint smile. "No, it's not that. It's possible... to change."

Something in her voice softened, and for a moment, the tension between us felt different, lighter somehow. She wasn't mocking me. If anything, she seemed... hopeful.

I swallowed hard, my gaze locked on hers. Her face was so close, the dim light catching the curve of her jaw, the subtle shimmer in her eyes. God, how easy it would be to lean in, to close the gap, to-

I tore my thoughts away, forcing myself to speak before I lost control. "You should get some rest." My voice was quieter now, almost reluctant.

She seemed hesitant but nodded anyway, stepping toward the door, her hand brushing against the handle. "Goodnight, Chris."

God. I couldn't let her go like that.

I needed to feel her, even if just for a second.

"Sarah," I called her name, my voice so soft I wasn't sure she'd even hear it. But she did. She froze mid-step, her head snapping back to look at me. Her eyes locked on mine, having the same desperati9n and lust as I was.

If that wasn't an invitation, I had no idea what was.

"Fuck it." I snapped and before I could overthink it. I closed the distance between us in one deliberate step, pushing her against the her door as my hands cupped her face, my fingers gently brushing the curve of her jaw. I pressed my lips to hers, kissing her with all the confused, tangled emotions I couldn't seem to put into words.

And God, it felt good.

She tasted so fucking sweet that I groaned the second she moaned.

The world faded, leaving only her. The soft, contented hum in my head drowned out everything else as our kiss deepened. It was slow, deliberate, intoxicating.

Sarah melted into me, her back pressing against the door as she moaned softly, the sound igniting something primal inside me. Her hands gripped my shirt tightly, pulling me closer as I claimed her mouth. My tongue sought hers, teasing and exploring, every thrust deliberate, sending her spiraling further into the moment.

She responded with equal fervor, her breath hitching as she matched my rhythm, her nails digging into my chest.

It was perfect.

And when it felt like we'd been lost in each other for an eternity, I finally pulled back, though every fiber of my being screamed not to. I kissed her lips once more, softly this time, a lingering touch that left me aching for more.

"Goodnight, Sarah," I whispered against her lips, my voice hoarse, almost breaking.

Then I forced myself to step back, my hands falling reluctantly to my sides.

I turned and walked away, refusing to look back, my body tight with need. The strain in my pants was unbearable, but the last thing I wanted was to lose control.

Not yet.

Not like this.

The moment I stepped into my room, I ripped off my clothes with a kind of desperation that felt unhinged. My shirt hit the floor first, then my pants, followed by everything else until I was bare, exposed, and still achingly hard.

I stalked into the bathroom, my jaw clenched as I caught sight of my reflection in the fogged mirror. My lower half was a torturous sight-my length pressed tightly against my stomach, the tip swollen, flushed an angry purple. I hissed through my teeth, the sheer need clawing at me, my restraint hanging on by a thread.

I needed a release now or I would fucking die.

Turning the shower on, I stepped under the spray, the cool water cascading down my body doing nothing to soothe the fire coursing through my veins. My hand hovered over the soap for a moment before I grabbed it, lathering it between my palms.

The second I wrapped my fingers around myself, I groaned, the sound guttural and raw. My head hit the shower glass with a dull thud as I began to stroke, slow at first, the sensation almost unbearable.

I closed my eyes, and she was there instantly.

Sarah.

Her lips, swollen and slick from our kiss. The way she'd moaned softly against my mouth, her hands gripping my shirt like she never wanted to let go. Her scent, intoxicating and lingering on my skin, driving me mad with every inhale.

My strokes quickened, my breathing uneven as my mind painted the image of her. Not just kissing me-but completely mine. My hands on her hips, pulling her against me. Her voice trembling as she whispered my name. The sound of her moans filling the air as I claimed every inch of her.

"Fuck... oh fuck." I groaned, my hips bucking against my hand as the pressure inside me built, relentless and consuming.

"Sarah..." My forehead rested against the cool glass of the shower door, my hand wrapped tightly around myself, slick from the soap that acted as a poor substitute for the warmth I craved.

I let the water beat against my shoulders, and imagined her again-this time on her knees, right here in this very shower. Her hair, damp and clinging to her flushed skin, her eyes locked on mine as she leaned forward. I could almost see the way her lips would part, her tongue darting out to tease me, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every inch.

I wanted to own her, to mark her in ways that went beyond the physical, to make sure no one else ever touched her, ever thought of touching her.

A guttural groan escaped me, and my hand moved faster, matching the rhythm of the fantasy building in my mind.

Her hands would steady herself on my thighs, her nails digging into my skin as I guided her movements, threading my fingers through her wet hair. I could feel her breath, warm and uneven, against me, her lips wrapped around me, taking me deeper until I hit the back of her throat.

"Fuck," I hissed, the word reverberating in the steam-filled space.

The thought of her-kneeling before me, her submission so perfect, her body trembling as she took everything I gave-sent a jolt of electricity through me. My hand worked faster, tighter, as I imagined her moaning around me, the vibrations driving me to the brink.

I pictured her struggling to breathe yet wanting more, her eyes glassy and full of desire as I thrust deeper, forcing her to take me completely. The fantasy was so vivid, so consuming, that it felt real.

Today gave me hope. Hope she would one day, jump on me without me pursuing her, without me tempting her.

One day she would be on her kneels and say how much she wants me.

And I can't wait for that fucking day.

"Sarah..." My movements became frantic, the heat spiraling tighter, sharper. My free hand braced against the glass as I chased the release that felt like it had been building for hours, days, hell, even years.

And when it came, it tore through me like a violent storm, a groan ripping from my chest as I spilled against the tile, her name a dark prayer on my lips.

I stayed there for a moment, letting the water wash over me, my body trembling from the force of it. But even then, even as my breathing slowed and my head cleared, I knew one thing with absolute certainty:

This wasn't close to enough. It would never be enough.

Because no matter how many times I tried to quiet the hunger inside me, it only ever roared back louder.

When it was finally over, I leaned against the glass, my breath heavy, water still cascading over me. The release had been powerful, but it barely scratched the surface of the storm inside me.

I straightened slowly, rinsing away the evidence of my desperation. The soap was slick in my hands as I washed up properly, letting the cold water numb the edges of my obsession for just a moment.

By the time I stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped loosely around my waist, the steam had fogged up every surface of the bathroom. My reflection stared back at me, dark eyes still shadowed with unspent hunger.

I exhaled sharply and ran a hand through my wet hair as I walked into the bedroom.

It was then I noticed them.

Gifts. Stacks of them, neatly arranged around the room. I hadn't even seen them when I'd stormed in, too consumed by lust and frustration to care. Now they were impossible to ignore-ornate boxes wrapped in silk ribbons, bags filled with lavish offerings, all the expected tokens of congratulations for a newly crowned prince.

But one thing stood out.

A single letter, resting on the edge of my bed.

My brows furrowed as I approached, water dripping from my hair onto the carpet. The envelope was plain, unmarked except for my name scrawled across the front in familiar handwriting.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, towel tightening around my waist as I picked it up. My fingers slid under the seal, tearing it open with a deliberate slowness.

Inside was a simple sheet of parchment, the words written in that same familiar hand.

The message inside was short, but enough that I rose up in seconds, rereading it again and again.

'Happy Coronation, little brother. The crown looks much better on you'.

Yours lovely brother, Elliot.

Fuck me.

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Honestly didn't expect to write this but i have no regrets!!!

Elliot is seriously making our man go crazy! Just talk to him man!!

Urghh Men.

Anyways hehe hope you love it and don't forget to vote and comment. It means the world.

💞