The original framers of the Constitution ratified an official amendment allowing for a stateside royal family. To avoid a civil war in the nascent nation, the founding fathers decided to shred the amendment lest those hungry for colonial independence discover its existence. But the document was never destroyed, but instead kept under lock and key ever since 1787. Relegated to obscurity and nearly lost to history, one royal bloodline has secretly existed since the very origin of the United States. The Cambridge family has remained in the shadows, waiting for their chance to take the throne. They are...American Royalty.
Ellie woke up in the middle of the night.
She hadn’t seen John since the fateful night she’d kept him too long and almost outed herself as a spy. She could’ve gotten them both hanged for treason. John had important work to do for the colonists and she couldn’t put her wishes and needs over the burgeoning revolution. She was in line to be the queen of the new nation, but she felt most like a smitten sweetheart waiting for her brave soldier to come home.
Which didn’t mean she didn’t still have the desires of a young woman left too long without proper… distractions.
Ellie was still staying in the British-style castle at the edge of Boston. Sometimes, she could hear the sounds of battle and wondered if John was out there fighting for independence. She prayed he was safe and that the efforts of the fighters would soon be fruitful. She wanted the war to be over so she could assume the colonial throne with John at her side. He wasn’t of royal blood, but the fight was all about divorcing this new nation from the archaic rules of England. She hoped for a future where they could be together.
Ellie had fallen asleep to the crack of rifles and the distant thunder of cannons. She’d dreamed of John, coming home all dirty and rugged and full of testosterone from the fight, his blood running hot and his desires unchecked. He’d taken her in his arms and kissed her passionately and tore her dress down the side until it fell away like a scrap of paper, revealing her in all her naked glory. Then he grabbed her and—
Ellie had opened her eyes and sat straight up, her breathing heavy and her breasts heaving. A sheen of sweat blanketed her body. She could almost feel John’s hands still on her and his breath against her neck. Her nightgown was damp from perspiration, so she removed it and hung it near the open window. A stiff breeze would make short work of the dampness.
The cotton material wasn’t the only thing a little wet…
She felt hungry for more than John. She’d worked up a bit of an appetite in her nighttime frolicking through steamy dreams. Ellie glanced at the door to her bedroom. Still completely naked while waiting for the nightgown to air out, she contemplated leaving it hanging near the window while she did something about this peckish feeling.
Ellie stepped toward the door.
The servants would be asleep. The other aristocracy staying at the castle had long ago gone to bed. The guards patrolled the grounds but not the interior of the stone citadel. Who would be around to catch her sneaking around the castle in the buff?
No one.
Ellie scampered out into the hall. The rush of being exposed out in the open throughways of the castle exhilarated her. She felt warmer than when she’d woken up from her wonderful dream of John. That had been sexual; this was sensual. Energizing. Empowering. She felt like the ruler of her destiny. She strolled with her back straight and her chest out and her head held high.
She went to the kitchen and there was a freshly baked pie, surely pulled fresh from the oven just before the servants had turned in for the evening. Apple. Ellie’s favorite. She found a fork and dug into the delectable pastry. She moaned. It was so good. Some crumbs scattered over the tops of her breast and she brushed them off. A bit of filling dribbled from the edge of her mouth onto the curve of one bare hip and she didn’t have to worry about whether it would stain. She simply wiped it away with her thumb and licked it off.
Ellie leaned against the table, her bare ass tilted askew, posed evocatively if anyone else was up and around for a midnight snack. No one else came to the kitchen. Just Ellie. She finished right there where she’d snacked on plums not just a few hours ago, leaning against the scarred wooden table in the small room. Satisfied, she blew out a puff of air that flipped a strand of her chestnut hair back from her face. She felt flush from tip to toes.
Ellie wandered back to her room at the languid pace of someone who didn’t care at all if they were caught between kitchen and bed. Her soles slapped on the bare floor. She caught sight of herself in a mirror at the end of the hall and she watched the reflection of a vivacious naked woman approach in the shadows. Ellie reentered her room.
Her nightgown had dried.
She slipped it on, returned to bed, and closed her eyes. Moments later, she was asleep. Dreaming. Of John. This time, they were riding together horseback through an idyllic meadow. Her body was pressed against his back. He was so solid and courageous. He turned back to face her and they kissed and this time she’d remain asleep until their happy ending.
No comments:
Post a Comment