Stood in front of the long oval mirror of ornate frame that once belonged to her mother, was Melissa, staring at her own image, the long hair of a dull narcissus yellow, brushing at the thin waist. Her thoughts flew to the prince, his defined muscles and confident poses stamping the newspapers of Iliona. Melissa laughed low, remembering the first time she felt that way a few years ago. He always caused sensations like that to her body.
Her face heated up making the skin white as snow, reddish. Images of Your Highness between her clear thighs, the defined body filling her arms, the thick threads of Phoenix between her thin fingers, pulling him closer, further in, flooded her mind like a tsunami. Melissa bit her lips and walked towards the gigantic bed she had been tidying up for a few minutes, wrapping it in a dark blue bed set, combining it with the black lace canopy and flowers that strolled between several bluish shades, delicately embroidered. Slowly, Melissa pulled the dress up, feeling the fabric slip through the smooth skin of her thighs, discovering itself uninhibited. With skilled fingers, Melissa let her imagination guide her to a more beautiful and life-filled place, away from the rot that had settled in the Tressan`s mansion over the past decade. Her body relaxed over the softness of the mattress, the skin chilling to the touch of fine dummy, stroking it. Melissa closed her eyes and focused on her delight, imagining the prince's raw hands running down her legs, his stormy blue eyes, fixed to her. Biting her rosy lips, Melissa arched her back, reaching her climax, a hoarse groan escaping from her throat, then suffocated by a tired and satisfied smile.
Interrupting her, a pair of heels hit the white marble floor, higher every second.
"Melissa!"- Samantha's shrill voice echoed through the halls, hunting her.
In a hurry, the girl stooled her clothes and crumpled sheets, finishing in time for Samantha to open the door of dark wood, watching her from top to bottom, while Melissa successfully tried to calm her breath.
What are you doing sitting there? – the woman asked the girl, with her casual rigid tone.
"I was tidying up your room, stepmother. It's in the assignments you assigned me today." – She answered, uncomfortable.
Putting her hands around her waist, Samantha made her way to the door and said:
"And you're done? You know Mathilda's debut is this season, so we need to be well prepared."
"Yes, I'm coming down." - Finished the girl, leaving Samantha pensive, walking from side to side in the room, restless.
The stepmother did not have a friendly face, her long, straight hair had a dark red hair tone that made her look whiter than normal, her square jaw gave her a snoband irritated look, along her pointed cheeks and thin nose. Her eyes, however, always caught Melissa's attention, soaked in a greenish tone with light brown fillets, penetrating and intimidating.
The woman was very different from John Tressan, father of Melissa and Baron of Iliona. He often traveled between kingdoms for trade agreements and special antiques, cataloged and stored in his office, locked in seven keys. His kindness and cordiality were appreciated by King Azavel, who, after hearing that marquis Lauriet of Eagle's Tempest sought an alliance with Iliona for his daughter, a widow, appointed the baron without a second thought.
With her head down, Melissa went down the stairs to the hall, where Annelise stretched out on the moss green divan, with an open book in hand. It quickly passed from the red entrance to the flowery walls of the dining hall, were Mathilda, leaning on the long solid wooden table, threshing over a tray of chocolate cookies.
"Melissa, bring two more of these and don't forget to prepare more for tomorrow." – Mathilda spokes, without even directing her gaze to the girl, freeing her with a gesture of hands and a tedious sigh. Melissa, after observing the carefree attitude, just waved positively and continued on his way to the muffled kitchen. The worn bricks made it the most welcoming place for Melissa, although there were several sharp and shiny knives hanging over the central table.
Taking a deep breath, the girl began preparing the meal and the required cookies, gathering the utensils scattered throughout the kitchen.
At nightfall, after removing the last form of cookies from the oven, Melissa instilled the smell of vanilla and chocolate, thanking her mother for the recipes she sneaked from Samantha years ago, before she threw the deceased baroness's junk belongings outside. Exhausted from the heat, she sat in the wooden chair, resting her legs as they began to complain about Samantha's tasks.
Three beats woke Melissa from a nearly nap anchored table, and as if she had ingested several doses of coffee directly into her veins, she got up quickly and ran to the simple wooden door that gave access to the back gardens. Her vision darkened for a few milliseconds due to the speed of her acts, but nothing took away the excitement for the visit of her dearest friend, Christopher.
"Chris!" – she spoke, throwing her arms around the neck of the young redhead and pale, the blue eyes reflecting the white light of the kitchen, illuminated.
"Good night, Mel" – he answered her back, his breathing accelerated and heart beating fast, squeezing her affectionately against his warm body.
Melissa walked away, holding Chris' thick, callous hand, pulling him into the kitchen and closing the door to the cold breeze that threatened to enter.
"I was thinking you wouldn't come today..."- said the girl, looking at her own feet, embarrassed.
Sitting on the wooden chair, Chris looked at her, so frail and vulnerable on the outside, but a real beast on the inside. He loved her so much. His heart warmed as he watched her, his mind turned between all the times he touched her, always desiring more than just the nights of pleasure he gave her. He wanted to protect her desperately from that cruel world she still didn't know about.
"Sometimes Your Majesty and Your Highness can be very demanding, sorry for my delay." - he spoke, the gaze fixed to hers, anxious by the sound of her voice.
Melissa sat next to the boy, looking at her own fingers, her short, brittle, jagged nails.
"It's okay, it's okay." - she finally said, calming him. Her eyes weighed down by tiredness, gradually beating her.
"They're not giving you a break, are they" – asked Chris, worried.
"Mathilda's going to make his debut this season, so it makes sense. Samantha's got her nerves on her skin, of course, looking forward to a wedding that will get her back into society with her head held high and blah blah blah." - she explained.
"Well, at least you have some sweets to eat hidden while she complains" – he said, picking up the backpack full of goodies he brought from the castle.
"Don't get caught." - She reminded him once more.
"I'll get the plates" – he complemented, getting up and going to the cupboards, accustomed.
"But then" - Melissa continued - "what's going on in the castle to be so agitated?"
"The prince's birthday will have a different celebration of the parade we do every year. He wants a ball, he's looking for a bride," he explained, an ironic tone in his voice - "Shouldn't they force him to marry some princess from another kingdom for political alliances, or whatever?" he asked, spreading several paper bags across the wooden table - "Can I have the pecan this time?"
"I think this only happens to the princesses." – she said, handing him the pecan pie with a smile, allowing her friend to freely vent.
"I wonder how he expects to find a lifelong partner in just two nights. It's completely ridiculous! How could anyone fall in love under so much pressure and furious looks?" - he let loose, making Melissa laugh.
"Angry looks?" she repeated, "what are you talking about?" Melissa exclaimed, curiously.
"Crazy fans Melissa, I've seen several trying to invade the castle entering the kitchens." - Completed, the serious face.
"What else did you expect? He is the crown prince of Iliona."
"The King is not in his best health, I think it will not even last until the feast of Cristalis* at the end of the year, the prince should be preparing to take over the kingdom at any time, but do you know what he is doing?" – he asked her, without waiting for an answer – "Smuggling prostitutes through the kitchen or having sex in the stables, always too stoned." – Finished, turning his eyes.
"Maybe he's tired of all the princely duties."
"You always defend him." - Chris said.
"Everything can have two sides" – she explained – "He may be like that, but that may not be everything."
"All right, all right." - He said, raising his hands in surrender.
"Chris?" – she called him, her voice low and sensual. - "What room are you going to tell me about today?"
The boy looked at her, biting his lips and smiling afterwards.
"Always so adoring for my fingers, isn't it?" - he said, near her ear, the hot breath chilling the hairs of the girl's nape, thirsty for her taste. "Today I'm going to tell you about the stables, but tell me, my princess, are you really ready to ride?"