Coup D'etat (The Alpha Prince) Book 3 (2 page)

“I have always wanted to fuck in the elevator of the Ritz,” the Prince says as he stops the elevator. I feel myself get spun around. The Prince pushes me up against the elevator doors. I feel his tongue wander down my back and down to my ass. The Prince lifts me up and begins to lick my pussy as I grab onto the top of the elevator doors. My eyes roll into the back of my head. I try to plant my feet on each handrail inside the elevator. This is certainly one of the wildest positions I’ve ever been forced to negotiate!

The Prince licks me until my body starts to shake. I feel him grabbing my ass and digging his fingernails into my flesh. He bites into my ass and makes me squeal like a teenager. When the Prince is done with my pussy and my ass, he pulls me down and demands that I, “swallow his cock.” I would be honored! I strip the pants off of my Prince. Then I pull down his underwear. The Royal stud is so nice and thick that I can’t wait to grab every inch of his manhood. I stroke that Royal dick while the Prince demands that I look up into his eyes. “You are so beautiful when you are on your knees,” the Prince says to me as I maintain eye contact. I don’t say a word. I open my mouth, stick out my tongue and gently lick the tip of his thick dick. The Prince approves. I proceed to open my mouth and slowly slide my lips down Prince Julian’s long, hard shaft.

I suck off the Prince while he struggles to take off his shirt. I run my hands up his flat stomach and his strong chest. My mouth causes his knees to get weak. He leans back and uses the elevator walls for support. I suck off the Prince at full speed as his moans echo around the walls of the elevator. “Oh Amy! Amy!” the Prince moans as I suck him off faster and faster. The Prince pulls me up by my hair and turns me around. He begins to fuck me from behind. I feel that hard dick pound me into submission. The Prince pushes my face right into the wall of the elevator. I slowly slide down onto the elevator floor as the Prince continues to drive himself deep into me.

The Prince turns me over. He pins my feet behind my ears and continues to have his way with my body. I feel him pinch my nipples. Then I feel his hands ascend up to my neck. The strong hands of my Royal lover slowly chokes the air out of my body. He watches me struggle for breath as I draw closer and closer to orgasm. My eyes begin to close. I start to lose consciousness. Just when I think I am about to blackout, the Prince slaps me fully awake. I grab onto the Prince’s back and grit my teeth as I cum.

Prince Julian finishes inside of me. He collapses onto my naked body and bites my ear. I look up at the gilded artwork at the top of the elevator. My body is so fatigued that I can hardly move my fingers. My goodness. I’ve never had a guy fuck me like this before. I can’t even think straight. It takes both of us a good five minutes before we can get our clothes back on.

We help straighten out each other’s attire. The Prince and I fix up our hair in one of the many mirror panels inside the elevator. We look at each other and share a good laugh as Prince Julian sets the elevator back in motion. “I don’t think I need to see much more of Paris after that!” I joke.

“That is the one great thing about this city. Every building, every piece of art, everything you see in this city is sexual. Look at the Eiffel Tower. It is one giant erection in the middle of Paris. How can one not fuck after seeing that phallic spire soar into the sky?” the Prince proclaims.

Wow. Come to think about it, Paris may be the first city designed completely around fucking.

We exit from the elevator where four members of the Prince’s security team meet us. They seem nonchalant about the fact that we were stuck in the elevator for an extended period of time. Something tells me that they know. Of course they know. Now, I am starting to feel a bit self-conscious. We head to the Presidential suite, where yet more security men are standing guard. One of the security members opens the door for the Prince and myself. We enter a room that would be at home in Prince Julian’s Mondorra Palace - very spacious, very opulent, and very royal. Prince Julian makes himself at home while I stand googly eyed at the walls, floors and the furniture. I’ve spent the last year working in a five-star hotel and this suite is on another level.

The Prince shows me around the twelve rooms of the suite. He talks about all the famous heads of state, celebrities and members of Royalty who have slept here. “After the Nazi’s fled Paris, Hemingway made himself at home in this suite - as well as the bar below - before the Allied forces even made their way into Paris,” the Prince tells me. We make our way into the master bathroom. We both take a look at the gorgeous French tub. It doesn’t take long for us to get naked. The Prince touches my body with his gentle fingers while the tub fills with water. We get inside. I recline on the Prince’s strong body. He wraps his arms around me and gives my breast a well deserved squeeze. Since it’s been mere minutes since we last fucked, our moment in the tub is more sensual than sexual.

The Prince leans in and whispers into my ear, “I don’t take every girl to Paris.” Prince Julian kisses the back of my neck. I look back at him and a tear rolls down my cheek. We hug. For the first time, I realize that our relationship is serious. The Prince defies his most powerful citizens to maintain a relationship with me. He protects me at every turn. Somehow, I feel like I have to do more for him.

“I wish I could make all of your problems go away,” I tell the Prince.

“A Prince will always have problems. I may only be 30 years old but I have been a Head of State for almost ten years. My biggest fear is that my confidence will morph into arrogance,” Prince Julian says as he runs his fingers through my hair. Then he looks deep into my eyes, “Many rulers have lost everything because of arrogance and hubris. It take a special confidant to guide a leader on the right path. I feel that I can trust you. If you ever feel that I am crossing into a state of arrogance, you must tell me. Especially in these times when people are aligning against me, I need someone I can trust.”

“You can trust me with all of your heart, Your Highness.”

Prince Julian kisses me on the lips. I swear it is the longest, deepest and most meaningful kiss we have shared since we met. It felt like more than just a show of affection. It felt like a sign of trust. We get out of the tub and walk into the master bedroom with the hotel’s plush robes wrapped around our bodies. As the Prince gets dressed, he hears a knock on the door. Prince Julian seems a bit caught off guard by the sudden knock. But like the pro that he is, the Prince gets himself perfectly dressed and walks to the door with the grace of Royalty as he answers the persistent knocker.

Prince Julian opens the door and is met by several well-dressed men who bow before him. They enter the hotel suite and hand a leather portfolio to the royal ruler. “Your Highness, I apologize for disturbing you. The treasury minister has requested that he speak with you about the final fiscal budget.”

The Prince opens the portfolio and deeply exhales. “Oh yes, I have been putting this off. Tell the minister that we’ll will commence the conference call within the next fifteen minutes.”

“Very good, Your Highness,” one of the men says as they both bow and leave the Presidential Suite.

Prince Julian turns to me and playfully throws his hands up in the air. “Ah, State Business awaits,” the Prince says as he tries his best to console me with his puppy dog eyes.

“I understand, Your Highness.”

Prince Julian walks up to me and grabs both of my hands. “I have to take this meeting. I was supposed to deal with this before I left for Los Angeles. If you want, you are more than welcome to take a little stroll around Paris. The meeting should take no longer than 90 minutes.”

Of course, the last thing the Prince needs is to have his girlfriend hang around while he deals with important state business. Besides, I am so excited to be in Paris that I can’t even wait to see what’s out there. “I would love to tour the city. I’m just sad that Your Highness is unable to join me.”

“Oh trust me. I want this meeting to be over as soon as possible. I’ll have a couple of bodyguards shadow you while you are out. I’ll make sure that the men don’t crowd you. I want you to enjoy your first look of Paris in complete comfort,” Prince Julian says as he makes a call to his security team.

The Prince hands me one of his credit cards and encourages me to buy, “to my heart’s content.” I assure him that I am more interested in the “sights and sounds” of Paris than any possible shopping spree. Prince Julian turns to his men and orders them to, “Keep an eye on Amy but don’t breathe down her neck.” The two very beefy and imposing men bow to the Prince’s command.

***

I walk out of the Ritz with the bodyguards keeping a mindful distance from me. Though I feel all alone, I don’t feel vulnerable. And right now, my security is just about the last thing on my mind. I am in freaking Paris! I don’t even know where to start. I had this same exact feeling when I was 12 and walked around New York City for the first time. There are so many news sights and sounds around me that the feeling is intoxicating.

The people all seem to be really glamorous in that, well to do, European sort of way. Lots of women in designer dresses and impeccable hair. The men are scruffy and cute. But what really catches my eyes is the architecture. Every building has its own personality, unlike LA where most structures seem prefabricated. I walk down the street and notice an abundance of scooters on the road. I remember seeing lots of scooters in Mondorra. But the small streets of the Principality were more congested with supercars than anything else on the road.

I walk down Rue De La Paix until I reach a large imposing and beautiful structure at the intersection of several criss-crossing Parisian streets. I have no idea what I am looking at but the building in front of me is one of the most incredible structures I have ever seen in my life. The top of the structure features several golden angels flanking a copper dome. I notice several tourists walking around the building. Hopefully one of them speaks English so they can tell me what I am looking at.

“Excuse me. Do you speak English?” I ask one man with a camera around his neck. He answers me in a language that sounds German. Alas, he does not know English. I ask a few more people about the building. Alas, everyone I ask is either German, French or some other language that makes no sense to me. I walk around looking for some sort of sign that would help me identify the structure.

“This is the Palais Garnier. It is known as the most famous opera house in the world,” a man says behind my back.

I turn around. He is a tall, well-dressed man, in a dark blue tailored suit. He looks a little too well-dressed to be a tourist. Also, the man’s English voice has that distinct Mondorra accent that has become familiar to me. I wonder if this man was sent by the Prince to escort me around the city. “Hi, did Prince Julian send you to show me around Paris?”

“No. Can we talk for a while?”

“Um, sure. I guess.”

“Excellent.”

As we begin to walk, the Prince’s two security guards immediately begin to flank the well-dressed man. They grab him and pull him to the side. What the fuck is going on here? I watch as the two guards ask the man several questions. They pat him down. Are they checking this guy for weapons?! This is all too bizarre for words. After watching the Prince’s guards manhandle the gentleman, the three men return towards me.

The well-dressed man seems unfazed by this incident. “I must compliment Prince Julian’s men. They are rather vigilant. Now, can we speak in private?”

“I am not sure we have been introduced,” I say nervously.



“My name is not important. What is important is that I speak with you.”

“Alright,” I say as I look at the guards who appear at the ready to protect me if anything goes wrong.

All four of us walk to a cafe. We take a seat outside where the warm Parisian air helps to cool my nerves.

“I must apologize for approaching you the way I did in front of the opera house. It was the only way I felt I could approach you in confidence.”

“And why would you need to approach me in confidence?” I ask.

“The Prince usually doesn’t fly his American girlfriends to Europe. And he certainly almost never flies his girlfriends to the Palace. It is not considered good form for a Prince to take a woman into his official residence, which is not his wife.”

“Oh please. What century are we living in?’ I ask.

“I will be blunt. The wealthy families of Mondorra do not approve of your relationship with the Prince.”