Stealing His Princess by Goode, Ella (good books for 7th graders txt) 📗

he. It’s shaped part of who he is as I’m sure mine’s done the same.

“I’m about to please you more.”

“I do miss sitting upon my throne,” I tease. I’m so caught up in the moment I must miss them saying we can now move around. Sov doesn't. He shoots to his feet with me in his arms. He moves quickly, and a moment later I’m tossed down onto a giant bed.

“Everything off but what I’ve put on you myself.” Meaning only my necklace and engagement ring stay put.

“Or what?” I sit up on my elbows.

“I love you, but I will redden your ass,” he warns. I roll over, lifting my hips.

“Okay,” I bait him. That’s all it takes. He pounces, taking what he wants: me. I take my prince right back.

Epilogue Sov

“Your Mackenzie dances beautifully,” Mother murmurs in my ear.

My fingers curl more tightly into the wood carvings of my chair. “She should be dancing with me.”

“She can, but you have four more gifts to receive.”

Sometimes I hate my position. “Whoever started this elaborate birthday tradition should be shot.”

“It was your great great grandmother, and since she’s dead, I don’t think your wishes would do much good.” Mother gestures for the next gift bearer to come forward.

A small man leads a procession of four young men wearing black suits and black gloves carrying a huge chest balanced on poles. At their signal, he has them lower the chest to the ground.

This better not be a person. Last year, I received two dancing maids for my birthday from a gang from Quebec. That crew did not get an invite this year. Mackenzie was furious. I haven’t seen the dancers since that day, but I believe Mackenzie shipped them off to attend a finishing school in Europe. Or she could have pitched them into the ocean. It was one of the two.

The leader makes a small bow and gestures for one of his men to open the chest. Thankfully, no humans jump out. Instead, it is a cache of silk.

“DeVain, your gift is welcome and remembered. Thank you for attending.”

“It is an honor, Charmont. May I remark on how beautiful Mrs. Charmont looks tonight?”

“You may not.”

DeVain laughs, thinking I’ve made a joke. I stare stonily until his laughter trails off. Parker steps into the awkward silence that ensues and ushers DeVain, the gift, and his four male attendees away.

I make it through three more gifts. One is a car, another is a horse, and the third is a handful of gems. The minute that the last gift is received, recorded, and stashed away, I leap from my seat and bound down the stairs.

“Time for you to go bother some other woman,” I order the young man who has my wife in his arms.

“Do you have one in mind?” the young man asks impertinently.

“Someone your own age.” I muscle the kid to the side and sweep my wife away. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy get collared by a matron twice his age. He smiles readily and allows himself to be led off.

“Sov, are you really treating your own son like he’s about to run off with me?” Mackenzie laughs softly.

“We should’ve only had girls.”

“We have two girls, and the other day you crashed our party and insisted on getting the full treatment with the rest of us,” she reminds me. “How’s the wax job feel today?”

I resist the urge to shake my right leg—the one that got waxed before I wised up and ran off to hide in my office. “I wasn’t this smooth pre-puberty,” I admit.

Mackenzie laughs. “Well, Prince Charming, you are still manly in my eyes.” She lays her head on my chest as we sway to the music. “And I love you dearly for sitting through the steam facial, the nail polish application, and the makeup. Peach really does bring out the blue in your eyes though.”

“The steam facial was surprisingly relaxing. I could get into that. Not the peach eyeshadow, though.” I shudder.

Mackenzie snuggles closer. “That’s okay. I like your no makeup look the best. The girls loved having you there. You should crash it again.”

“Next time let’s have a cake party where we practice making different desserts.”

“Perfect.”

Perfect. Yes, that’s how my life is. I have a strong, handsome fifteen-year-old son who draws envious sighs from females age five to eighty-five. I have two girls who are more beautiful than the flowers in my mother’s famed garden. My parents are enjoying grandparenthood and retirement. Mackenzie’s family is far away enough that their activities, such as they are, don’t affect us. Our businesses are producing enough money to fund a small country. I could not ask for anything more, but none of it measures up to the value of having Mackenzie in my arms.

I could live in a shack, eating canned tuna every day, washing my own clothes and fixing holes in the heels of my socks so long as I was with her. I swing her around the room in wide circles until we clear the dance floor and stop in a small, dimly lit alcove across from the live band. I press Mackenzie up against the wall and cover her with my big body.

“Are we done dancing?” she asks, running her hands up the lapels of my suit coat.

“Not done but changing the tempo.” I lean down and nuzzle her neck. It is bare except for a single blue diamond that rests just above the valley between her tits. I trace the line of the chain with my lips until I reach the swell of her breasts. I place a tender kiss on the top of each rosy globe and then lick along the top of her bodice. She shivers.

“This bash is held to celebrate your birthday. Do you really think you should be spending it in this corner with your face in my chest?”

“Yes.” I massage her tits through the expensive blue silk and wish