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Larry and Pressly draw sharp intakes of breath. I continue, not caring. “You know, never mind,” I say. “I want this trade deal to mean more to you than me, because it makes hating you that much fucking easier.”
There is a long pause on the other end of the line.
“Derrick, you’re my son,” the King says. “I love you. I’m sorry you don't believe that.”
He sounds fucking tired. But whatever. I don’t fucking care.
“So, court date coming up, the city seems to love me even more, but the newspapers really fucking love me, and Leopold’s trade deal is going well,” I say to Pressly and Larry. “Anything else?”
They both announce that they have nothing else. I hang up the phone before the King has a chance to say goodbye. He’s said his piece. I don’t want to hear any more from him.
“Sire,” Pressly takes me aside after Larry leaves. “I know the King and Your Highness have had difficulties, but I wonder if you should show him a bit more respect?”
I pause and look at Pressly. “You’ve been very loyal all these years since Mom died,” I say. “I hope that’s not going to fucking change.”
Pressly sighs. “Not at all, Your Highness,” he answers. “But I do know that the King loves you and…”
I don’t give him a chance to finish. “You call what he did to my mother love?”
I’m nearly screaming at him. But then I remember Daphne and I quiet down.
“You want to know what love is, Pressly?” I ask him. But I don’t wait for him to answer. “Daphne’s given herself to me selflessly. She’s helping me become a better man. She could have asked me for anything. But she didn’t. She only gave herself.”
Pressly is silent and I continue, “The total opposite of Leopold.”
I know it irritates everyone who I refer to the King by his first name. But it’s one of the only ways I can fight back against the shackles of royalty I was born into. If I had been just a regular man, I at least could have the option to never fucking talk to my father.
Pressly sighs and decides to drop the
case. I’m glad. I was getting pretty fucking heated. But I think about what I said about Daphne.
I’m being serious. She’s like a fucking angel. My angel.
She makes me want to be a better man.
She helps me work at being that better man.
Fuck me, just the thought of her takes away all bad memories in my fucking head. I’ve nearly forgotten about the King, and Pressly - everything.
All I want to do is find her.
I head straight to the room, but I stop dead on my tracks as I hear the sound of running water coming from the master bathroom. I grab the golden knob of the door - it’s not locked, so I just turn it and step inside. A thick blanket of steam covers the whole room, but I can still see Daphne’s perfect shape through it.
She’s in the shower, completely naked; her head is held high, her eyes closed as she runs her hands through her hair. I remain still and in silence, just taking in the sight of her. I’ve fucked a legion of women, but not one of them compares to Daphne. I don’t know what it is about her that draws me in like this - maybe the gentle curves of her thighs, the smoothness of her skin or the way her smile comes so easily... I don’t fucking know and, in all honesty, I don’t really give a fuck. All that matters is that she’s right here, with me.
I step forwards, my eyes never leaving her body; as I do it, she turns to me, a look of surprise dawning on her face.
“Derrick… What are you doing here?” She says, brushing a lock of wet hair from her forehead.
“I wanted to see you,” I simply find myself saying. And it’s the truth. I was fucking pissed, I was angry… And my mind immediately pointed me to the only thing capable of making me forget all of those worries easily - Daphne.
“Now?”
“Now,” I smile. With that, I take my hands to the glass panel and slide it to the side. I step inside the shower stall, not giving a fuck as the warm water soaks my shirt and pants, making the fabric stick to my skin. I need to feel her body on mine and I’m not going to waste a single fucking second removing my clothes - I can do that later.
Before she can open her mouth to protest against me being there, I grab her by the waist and pull her into me, pressing my lips against hers. We kiss gently, the warm water running down both our bodies; in an instant, her hands are on my shirt, her hurried fingers quickly unbuttoning it. Not wanting to waste any more time, she stops unbuttoning the shirt and simply pulls on it with both hands, making the remaining buttons pop out. She pushes the wet fabric down my arms, her hands feverishly running over my chiseled muscles.
I run my hands up her side and grab the hair behind her neck, forcing her head back as I lean in and kiss the smooth skin of her neck, nibbling at it with an almost uncontrollable hunger. Just having her body pressed against mine is all I could ask for… Fortunately, she wants more than that - as I kiss her neck, I feel the tip of her fingers go down and over my abs. She grabs my hard cock over my pants, curling her fingers around it with a strength that betrays all the desire that fills her mind.
