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Authors: Eliza Degaulle

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #Romantic Erotica

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BOOK: Pregnant! By the Prince
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"She's a princess? Wait, I don't get it. Your uncle died, you become crown prince?"

"Dolotovyan succession does not consider children to be acceptable rulers. If the heir does not exist or is not of age, it passes to the closest related male. So when my father passed when I wasn't even yet a teenager, it went to my Uncle. He and Nadya never had children, so it then went back to me, now an adult. The Parliament has held the power for the past decade because no prince has fulfilled the tradition of Diye."

"And if you never find the one?" I had taken European history classes. As far as rules of succession went, I could follow these pretty easily.

"I hope it does not come to that." He placed a hand over my shoulder, and pulled me close to him. "You are our guest, Beatrice. Surely you must have needs to answer?"

Him holding me so close. My mind flashed with thoughts of being the one to help him fulfill Diye. "Can I get a shower?"

"Of course. I will have a bath drawn for you immediately."

"I asked for a sho - " I stopped, realizing a bit of relaxation in a palace bath couldn't hurt. "Thank you, your high - er, Leon."

 

 

-Chapter Three-

 

 

Hot water at the perfect temperature, and sweet smelling bubbles. This definitely was beating an in and out shower. I let the water stew around my body and just indulged.

All the tension of the day was melting away. The whole flight nonsense, my pointless arrest, the lack of internet. It was truly just nice to sit back and relax.

Unfortunately, it couldn't last forever. The water started to cool, so I took it as a cue to rush and clean myself.

Out of the water, I dried and wrapped a robe around me. My bags were taken from the inn and brought to the palace, so I did have a fresh change of clothes. Through the halls, I made my way to my room. Far fancier than any hotel suite, there was a panel of windows, and outside was the dusk of the town.

I remembered the painting. It had captured the essence of the view I was seeing perfectly - but seeing the real thing was always wonderful anyway, and gave you a greater appreciation of the artist.

"That over there is the Grand Cathedral." A hand on my shoulder. Leon. "It was constructed in 1384, done by Dolotovyans to prove they didn't need the outside world."

"Down on the street, when I saw the town, it looked poor. Trapped in the past. It really is beautiful from up here, though."

"I want what's best for it. It's beautiful, yes. I wish to make it even more beautiful. As beautiful as you."

His hands rubbed my shoulders. My mind quickly went dirty.

Leon was subtle. He pushed away the shoulder of the robe, and went down my arm. It was the touch of a skilled man.

"Americans. I've dreamed about being with one. So independent, so feisty."

I said nothing, not wanting to interrupt what he was doing.

The robe was loose, as his hands traveled around my body and to the front of my chest.

My heart started to pound. More so when he finally reached the curves of my breasts, and wrapped his hands around them.

Panic hit me.

"A melting pot they say, it seems you got the best of what the world has to offer, Beatrice."

To my nipples. They perked up so quick and suddenly. The tingling sensation that came from his touch rippling so gently over my chest.

I moaned softly, and let the filthy thoughts rush through my head.

"I'd love for you to accompany me to my bed tonight."

I snapped away from him, and brought my robe back up. "What kind of girl do you think I am?" Fear hit me. I'd never gone this far.

"I'm sorry to offend you. I just thought because Americans were more casual with their sexuality, and the way you had all those condoms - "

I trembled. "You think I'm some sort of slut just because I'm an American who wants to play it safe?"

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that. Dolotovyan women, they're so prudish, I mistook y0u for the other extreme."

Fear kept me going. "Maybe you wouldn't just assume I was a slut if your country wasn't so backwards. I'm guessing women here are property or something?"

"Dolotovyan women tend to be married off at the age of twelve, yes."

I glared at him.

"It's something I want to fix, personally."

"What, is it some requirement I fuck you for your hospitality?"

"Of course not! I apologize." He seemed disappointed. "I do mean it though - you are very beautiful. Perhaps I can only dream  of one day having a queen such as you."

I kept my expression solid.

"You are angry right now, I will see you in the morning, Beatrice."

He stepped away, a frown in his face. He then left me alone.

A tear rolled down my cheek. What the hell was wrong with me? I was suppose to be all about the meaningless traveling casual sex. Yet a hot prince offers himself to me, and I push him away.

Was I afraid I wouldn't be good enough for him?

The butterflies inside my belly told me I wanted him. Why was he so different than some random hot French guy passing through at a hostel?

I constantly told myself the first time would be no big deal. Just to get out there and enjoy it.

Did I really think this would be some fairy tale and we would somehow fall in love and I'd get to be a princess?

"Stay away from him." A heavily-accent German voice commanded.

I turned to face her. Nadya. "I wasn't going to -

"I know your type. You want to make him work for it. Corrupt him and make him sacrifice his kingdom for you."

"I don't want to do that! You're paranoid!"

"You know it's illegal here. Sex outside a marriage? It's a the first thing on the downfall of society."

"You can't be serious."

"Stone cold serious. Girls like you are the type that fells empires."

"I wasn't going to do anything with him. He was coming on to me."

"Good. Keep it like that. Our hospitality is food, bathing, and bed. Sin is not included in such a package!"

She left me alone in my room.

I flapped back onto my bed. A crazy aunt, and a price out to seduce me. What exactly have I gotten myself into?

 

 

-Chapter Four-

 

 

A majestic table surrounded by majestic chairs in a majestic room.

It was something I thought I'd never see myself doing. I knew chasing my dream as an artist was incredibly unlikely to bring me fabulous wealth.

Still, it felt lonely. I was the only one at the table, and although the food was served by a chef and a maid was checking on me, all I could do was nod and vaguely gesture. Not being able to speak the language was more  isolating than I truly thought it would be.

Sausage, eggs, and bacon. It was seasoned perfectly. I was trying to push myself to become a vegetarian, but I figured this was worth putting off my principles, just for a bit.

"Ah, Beatrice." A familiar voice called out to me. Leon.

"Hey," I said. "When I think of Princes I don't think what you're wearing."

Blue jeans and a polo shirt, and sneakers that although nice, didn't change the fact they will still sneakers. "Do you think I dress in official garb all the time? I need to wear my crown else people won't know who I am? If that is what you wish, Beatrice, I shall, but - "

"No, no, it's fine." I blushed.

He laughed as he came to my side. "I wanted to again apologize for last night. Although I will say seeing you have principles and a stronger will than I expected does make you ever more so delightful to chase."

I laughed softly, looking away from him. I felt more embarrassed by it than he did. He was putting me up on some pedestal that I couldn't dream of actually deserving. "It's okay. I guess I should be flattered." I wasn't his sex kitten of an American girl. If he figured out I was a virgin, though, he might consider me as prudish as his own people. I wouldn't be what he wanted - and he would no longer say all these nice things.

Pushing him away though was the exact opposite of what I wanted. Ugh, he does these things to me. My eyes turned back toward him. His smile, that body, he was truly something better. He wasn't that Italian guy I fantasized about in college - he was far above that.

"Beatrice, did you enjoy your authentic cuisine?" He asked with a tone of humor in his voice, as he looked at my empty plate.

"Yes. I don't really know how to tell the chef that though. Does he get visitors trying his food often?"

"No. I will pass along your compliments to him. When he gets good news, he tries even harder. You haven't had anything yet."

"I guess I'll look forward to that."

"Well fed, well rested. Beatrice, would you like a tour of the city? I believe you were an artist of some sort?"

I raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know?"

"The way you admire everything around here, the wonder in your eyes. Yours is a creative mind."

"I paint, yes. Not the most successful profession to be in."

"Excellent. I will need to see some of your work when we return."

Blush, again. I did that a lot, especially around him. "You don't, I'm not too good, and it'll disappoint you."

"Nonsense. I want to see the art of an outsider." Leon made his way to a painting
hanging on the side dining room wall. "This painting here is adeptly done, by one of our greatest artists. The inspiration, though, is lacking. Dolotovya artists, or perhaps I should say the countries ideas in general, are incestuous. That is, there is no outside influence. I will change that."

"What's my artistry have to do about it?" I wiped off my mouth and stood behind him to look at the picture. It was a portrait that looked kind of like Leon. Perhaps a distant grandfather? "This is much better than anything I can do."

"To you, its new and interesting, because its all foreign. Me though? It is boring. I want something exciting, exotic. No, not want, need. I need such things in my life." He spun, his piercing blue eyes digging into me. "Someone like you."

I couldn't keep eye contact. "I'm not exotic."

"Were you not trying to get to Zurich? In our ride here, you told me you were going to travel Europe."

"I did, I guess."

"Embracing new ideas, seeking them. That's exotic to me - that's the kind of woman I want. The woman I want to be my queen."

Was he asking for something more than a fling? "Um, don't royals have to marry other royals?"

"Dolotovyan law carries no such rule. It has been the tradition of nearly a thousand years, and it has put off the stagnation of bloodlines but has not completely ended it. Perhaps an outsider is just who we need to revitalize the crown." He lifted an eyebrow.

Oh God. I backed away, so overwhelmed about was happening. No, I traveled because I wanted to see the continent, have careless casual sex.  Not get married. "You - you aren't proposing to me, aren't you?"

"That would be a little forward, would it not? I've only known you for a day."

"Everything about you is a little forward."

"Again, my apologies. I suppose you have filled my imagination. It's a Dolotovyan proverb, you know. When you dream, and it appears to come true, do not question it."

"I'm your dream?"

He rubbed his chin, a wide smile on his face. "Perhaps you are. Odd, isn't it? For you to happen to end up here by mistake? The fates may like me - and you as well."

"Totally forward on me." It was a bit much to fill my head at once. I wanted him, I definitely wanted him. In a way that didn't feel healthy. Absurd - I wasn't going to be a princess, or a queen. I'm a wannabe painter who will probably mooch off her parents for years until I manage to find some way to turn a profit throwing oil at an easel.

"Push it away from now. Now, about that tour of the town? Will you accompany me, or would you prefer to enjoy the relaxation of the palace?"

I looked all around me. It was beautiful, but I watched the maid walk past - and the chef. The only person besides Leon I could talk to was Nadya. "Of course, maybe it'll be inspiration."

 

 

-Chapter Five-

 

 

"I cannot believe you were going to go out in that." Leon said, walking me down the main street of the city.

"Summer. You know it's summer, right?"

"These season things. I do not understand what you are talking about." There was a
sarcastic grin on his face.

He had set me up with some warmer clothes. A nice long sleeve shirt, made out of something that felt real good against my skin, with a warm coat over the top of it. Long pants that did more than their job in stopping me from freezing my butt off.

The only thing he didn't supply was a bra and panties. Not for lack of trying, however. I just bashfully declined. So I had JC Penney underwear going against something that may have cost hundreds, if not thousands of dollars.

BOOK: Pregnant! By the Prince
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