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Chapter 21
David
Now, this…this is more fucking like it!
A bottle of champagne pops open as the cork shoots across the room and smashes one of the lightbulbs from the chandelier. There’s a moment of silence as everyone considers what just happened, but then a cheer erupts through the room and someone passes me the fresh bottle.
I’m pretty sure that this is one of the bottles that was meant to be saved for my wedding, a gift from a grandparent or something, but now’s a good as time as any to open it.
Ever since Vivienne took off, the wedding’s been pretty much cancelled.
Which is good.
It’s better than good—it’s fucking great!
The whole thing was a sham anyway, to save face after the press caught me with a face full of pussy whilst at a party. It’s not as though we were ever really getting married, and it’s much better it ended in true David Lockridge-style.
The whole world expects me to be a party animal with more money than sense, so I might as well give them what they want.
“A toast!” I yell into the crowd, lifting the green bottle high into the air. “To freedom!”
“Freedom!” the crowd shouts back.
“To King David!”
I roll my eyes and feign some humility. But I love it. So what if I’m not prim and proper, eating tea and crumpets, and going hiking with corgis?
The people clearly still love me.
“David! David! David!”
The chanting continues and grows louder as I lift the bottle of champagne again. I smirk, flashing rows of teeth as I tilt the bottle to my lips and drink, unstopping, until the bottle is empty.
As I drink, champagne spills from the corner of my lips and drips further down my neck and on to my shirt. But I’m adamant to finish this fucking bottle—the public demands it.
When I’m finished, I tip the bottle upside down to prove that there’s nothing left inside. The crowd, which had been watching me with bated breath, explode into cheers before disbanding into the rest of the party.
I feel two pairs of petite hands pull at my shirt and pull me back into the fray.
“Your Highness, that was so impressive,” a redhead purrs in my ear as her hands run over my body.
“I bet that champagne was really nice. Can I have a taste?” A blonde appears beside her and blinks at me with large doe eyes. She looks so corruptible and fuckable, but as her hand ‘accidentally’ brushes over my cock, I know she’s not as innocent as she’s pretending.
And I’m curious to see what she wants to do next.
“It was, but there’s none left for you.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I think I see some…”
She gently tilts my head to the side and traces a line along my neck with her tongue. She bites gently at the skin of my jugular before she pulls away, and I feel my cock stir for a moment.
Why would I give up having an all-you-can-eat buffet of beautiful girls, just so I could be married to one woman?
Even if that woman is Vivienne Taylor.
“Come with us!”
The redhead and the blonde each pull one of my arms, tugging me happily outside and toward the pool. They push me into a sun lounger, and another glass of champagne—or it could be vodka in a champagne flute—is pushed into my hands as more girls lean in over them.
