The Princess, the Pea and the Night of Passion

Chapter 1

Prince Richard was feeling randy. He was trapped in the castle tonight, as the weather outside had turned unexpectedly nasty. He'd just been looking out the window, marveling at the wind whipping through the trees and the force of the rain. It was late fall, so he'd expected it to be getting cooler. Still, to be so cold rain so forcefully was unusual. He pitied any soul caught out in this torrent.

The prince was wandering the castle, looking for the butler's daughter. Old Lionel, as Richard tended to call him, had been visited by his daughter earlier in the day. The girl was supposed to return to the village this evening, but the prince hoped the servant had changed his mind after seeing the weather. He hoped he'd suggested his daughter spend the night at the castle, rather than risk getting caught in a storm.

Richard had seen the girl earlier today, with her wide hips and full round breasts. She was reputed to be quite loose for someone betrothed. He wouldn't go out in this storm to chase a girl, but he was feeling frisky enough to ask Lionel if the girl had gotten home before the storm started, or if she'd taken a spare bed in the servants' quarters. If she were still here, perhaps she could cure the hard-on forming in his trousers. He wanted someone tonight. Someone he could spend hours toying with, not just a quickie, as he often found himself having.

He wanted someone who had a libido as strong as his and who didn't mind screaming out his name, and grabbing his ass to pull him tighter into her. He missed the comforts of a woman, a real woman. Not the trite princesses his mother brought for him to court. The queen was obsessed with royal lineage. Richard didn't give a damn about that. All the princesses he'd met spent their time being proper and offended at the slightest suggestion that they were women, that they had breasts, plump and warm, waiting to be fondled, waiting to be squeezed and licked. That they got wet when he slid his hand onto their asses or whispered dirty words in their ears. He hated every single one of those princesses, and the thought of being married to one of those wenches felt like a prison sentence. It was why he had adamantly refused to court any of them. Yet, that had only made his mother more zealous.

She made it hard for him to go anywhere, made it hard for him to slip away and find someone to have a dalliance with. He'd hoped to slip away tonight, but the weather meant it wasn't to be. His only hope was that Lionel's daughter was indeed here, and indeed as loose as her reputation suggested. She wasn't the prettiest girl, but it wasn't her face he was interested in.

Richard walked through the castle, looking in the obvious spots Lionel might be so he could inquire about the daughter. He'd checked Lionel's room, but no one had been there. Now, he was heading to the kitchen; Lionel liked to chat with the cooks. When Richard arrived, he saw the rear door open and heard a woman saying she was a princess. A princess coming to the kitchen door, where the servants entered? That was a princess he had to see.

"I'm sorry, miss. You're going to have to leave," Lionel was saying.

"Lionel," the prince snapped. "Let the princess in." The butler wasn't facing the prince, but Richard watched the old man stiffen at the command, then step aside to allow in two women. The woman who entered first was dripping wet and her white dress clung to her body. Through the dress' saturated fabric, Richard could see her supple breasts. They taunted him, like small, tender melons, ripe and waiting for him. The nipples were hard, pushing the fabric out, and he could see the beautiful dark areolas, too. He imagined them in his mouth, the way he could suckle them. He started to salivate.

The woman had long black hair that hung to the middle of her back and smooth, olive skin that clearly suggested she was foreign. Her almond-shaped eyes were beautiful, a rich brown color that suggested vibrance and heat. Her petite frame was curved in all the right places: succulent hips, legs made for spreading and a bottom that looked perfect for grabbing. He felt himself harden as he thought of the wonderful things he could do to her.

The second woman who entered was wearing a blue dress and was tall and very thin, with a slight hunchback. Richard tried not to grimace at the sight of this one, who was equally drenched. If he strained, Richard could have seen her bosoms through her soaked top, but he didn't feel it was worth the effort.

"This lady," Lionel said, breaking the prince's train of thought and Richard pulled his focus from the woman. The old butler tipped his head toward the smaller woman, "said she is a princess from another kingdom who seeks shelter."

The petite woman smiled at him. There was something seductive about it, the way her eyebrows arched and her red lips quirked up to the left a little. "Your Highness," she said, looking up at him, a slight blush forming on her cheeks. "I am Amira Adara Tafweek, daughter of the amir of Bastalia. My father allowed me to participate in an educational delegation to the kingdoms on this side of the sea. I was with my tutors and footmen when our carriage broke down. The men in our party left me and my maidservant, Nassi, expecting us to be safe, but the rains and winds collapsed the roof of our carriage. We set out on foot to find shelter. I pray we have found it here."

Part of him was astonished. An amira. A princess. His tutor a few years back had been a widely-traveled man, one who'd been to the Sudan and even seen the Egyptian pyramids. He'd said they called the princes over there amirs. At the time, Richard had asked sullenly, "Whenever would I need to know such a thing?" And his tutor had said, "Prince Richard, perhaps one day an amira — that would be a princess — will walk right into your life." And here it was, happening. Perhaps. This woman could be lying. There was nothing remotely royal about her dress, a simple white frock, but something about the way she spoke, confident, assured, and clear, reminded him of royalty.

"Amir," he said, his eyes trying to train on her face, yet he couldn't help glimpsing her lovely large nipples as they pressed against the wet fabric. "That is the Persian word for ruler?"

"Yes," she said, her voice floating out like a melody. She smiled at him bashfully, and dipped her head in apology. "I should've used the words of your language. I am Princess Adara Tafweek, daughter of King Salim Tafweek of Bastalia."

He walked closer to her, ostensibly to show courtesy, to be a gentleman, extending his hand to her. She slipped her petite hand into his, and he felt a spark of heat as he held hers. It was almost magnetic the way her hand felt in his, like it belonged. He looked down at her hand in his liked the way its darker color looked pressed against his. He kissed her hand and said, "Of course, princess. You may have shelter here."

Knowing it wasn't socially acceptable to hold onto her any longer, he released her hand and looked at her luscious, curved body, determined to figure out a way to see it when it wasn't swaddled in wet fabric. "We need to get you out of those clothes."

She licked her lower lip, and he imagined how his tongue would feel gliding over his skin, teasing him, pleasing him. He couldn't take his eyes off her tiny mouth and that gorgeous pink tongue. Her lips started moving again. "I'm sorry," she said. "What did you say?"

He looked her over once again, lingering now on her skirt, trying to glimpse any pubic hair pushing against her soggy cloth, yet he could see nothing. "You'll catch your death if you stay in these clothes, princess." He smiled at her.

She nodded. "Of course," she said, her voice deferential. "You are a very wise prince."

Richard smiled at the compliment and turned to Lionel. "Please show these ladies to the guest quarters and find them something clean and dry to change into."

Lionel led the ladies away, and Richard watched, savoring the sway of Adara's hips as she sauntered down the hall. As they rounded the corner out of sight, the prince took off running in the opposite direction. He knew a spot in the guest quarters where he could hide and listen to the princess and her girl's conversation. He'd have to hurry.