The Crown Prince Chose the Size 18 Commoner, and the Palace Can't Stop Him novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Wing

Lucan moves her into the room beside his, and leaves the first mark on her thigh.

Lucan opened the kitchen door himself.

The clerk was a small gray man with a scroll case under his arm.

He went white when he saw who had answered.

"My lord prince."

"Read it to me," Lucan said.

"Miss Valera is dismissed for conduct unbecoming, by order of the Lord Chancellor."

"Conduct," Lucan said.

"Refusing a royal command in open court."

"I gave the command."

"And she refused it."

"Then dismiss me," Lucan said pleasantly. "Go on."

The clerk opened his mouth and shut it again.

"The Chancellor does not rule this palace," Lucan said. "I do."

"Tell him the girl is under my roof tonight, and every night after."

"Under your roof, my lord?"

"In the east wing. Beside my rooms."

He took the scroll from the clerk's hand and tore it in half.

I had never seen anyone tear a Chancellor's order in half, and the sound was so sweet that I nearly applauded.

The clerk fled.

Lucan turned back to me with a half-smile and his shirt still streaked with my flour.

"You're moving," he said.

"I'm not a coat you can move."

"You're a woman they will throw out of this palace at dawn the moment I look away."

"I know that."

"Then come where I can look at you."

It was not a bad argument.

Pip packed my two dresses and my mother's rolling pin into a pillowcase, crying and grinning at once.

She followed us up the back stairs carrying it.

The room Lucan gave me was bigger than the whole kitchen cellar where I had slept for four years.

It had a four-poster bed hung with blue silk, a fire already laid, and a bath behind a painted screen.

In the paneled wall stood a tall door.

"Where does that go?" I said.

"My bedroom."

"The prince's bedroom connects to the guest room."

"It was my grandmother's idea of a joke."

Pip squeaked, set down the pillowcase, said, "I'm sleeping downstairs," and fled.

I stood there alone with him.

The fire popped.

"You can lock it from your side," he said. "The key's on the mantel."

I looked at the door.

Then I looked at him standing in the firelight with his sleeves pushed up and a hungry, patient look on his face.

I picked up the key from the mantel and put it in my pocket.

His dark eyes flashed.

"Tilda."

"You said tonight was mine," I said. "It isn't over."

I walked to the bed, sat on the edge of it, and pulled my dress up over my head.

I sat in my plain cotton underthings with my arms and belly and thighs in the firelight, soft and wide and mine.

He stared.

He stared for a long time.

"Say what you see," I said.

"A queen," he said hoarsely.

"Be specific."

His eyes moved over me, slowly.

"I see this."

He knelt in front of me and put his palms flat on my belly.

"Soft, and warm, and I want to bite it."

His hands slid up to my breasts, heavy in my bra.

"I see these. I see thick thighs that will be around my head in a minute."

"And a mouth I want to ruin."

"Better," I said, and my voice shook.

He unhooked my bra with one hand.

My breasts fell into his palms, and he groaned.

He put his mouth on one nipple, sucking hard, then swirling his tongue, until I arched and fisted my hand in his curls.

"Lucan."

"Mmm."

"Lower."

He smiled against my skin.

He kissed down my belly and bit gently at the soft roll of it.

He hooked his fingers in my underwear and drew it down my legs.

I lay back on the blue silk.

He pushed my thighs wide with his big hands and looked at me, flushed and slick and open.

"Fuck," he said. "Look at you."

Then he put his mouth on me.

His tongue was slow and flat and sure.

He licked up the whole length of me, closed his lips around my clit, and sucked.

I cried out.

My thighs clamped around his head.

He groaned into me, the vibration shooting straight up my spine, and held my hips down with both hands.

"Taste like lemon," he muttered. "I knew it."

"Shut up and keep going."

He laughed against my clit and kept going.

He worked me with his tongue, then with two fingers curled inside me and his thumb over my clit.

My whole body drew tight as a bowstring.

"Tell me what you want," he said.

"Don't stop."

"Tell me you're mine."

I should have fought him on it.

I didn't.

"I'm yours," I gasped. "Lucan, I'm yours, don't you dare stop."

He turned his head and bit the soft inside of my thigh, hard, sucking the skin between his teeth.

The sharp bright sting tipped me over.

I came with a shout, grinding against his mouth, my fingers tangled in his hair, shaking all the way through.

He kissed the spot where he had bitten.

It was already turning red, a small dark bruise the shape of his mouth.

"Mine," he said, and pressed his lips to it. "Where nobody sees it but me."

I lay there panting.

"Nobody has ever said that to me and meant it," I said, before I could stop myself.

He climbed up beside me and wrapped himself around me, fully clothed, big and warm.

"I mean it," he said into my hair.

We fell asleep like that, tangled, with the fire burning down.

A knock came at the door before the sun was properly up.

It was a brisk, businesslike knock.

"Miss Valera?" a woman's voice said. "Her Majesty the Queen Mother sent me. I have a tape measure."

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