A/N THIS IS AN M RATED FANFIC. I mean that literally! It has mature themes, language, lemons, violence…pretty much anything that goes along with the M rating. I'm just reminding you because I don't want people flipping out for the content. So, if you don't like that kind of stuff, don't read.
Chapter 2- Unwanted Plans
Edward POV
"On your knees," I whispered huskily into her ear, stopping to nibble on the soft flesh of her earlobe. A look of terror was upon her face, her body trembling and tears pricking her tiny blue eyes, but she did as I had asked. In all truth, though, she couldn't deny me what I wanted. She didn't have the will nor the power. She fucking worked for me. Damn it, I could say that I owned the bitch. And if I wasn't going to let her know it...
I was Prince Edward Anthony Cullen III. I could do anything I fucking wanted. Not to mention I was the damn heir to the throne; I was the next King of England. I was the only son of King Carlisle, the grandson of the powerful and loved King Edward II. My mother, Esme, had a daughter first. She's my older sister Rosalie. God I hate that bitch. But she doesn't have nice things to say about me either, so I guess we're on the same page. Luckily she doesn't live here anymore. Lives in Wales…or is it Ireland? Austria? I don't know. She lives somewhere in Europe. Married young. She's duchess of some shit…
Anyway, like every country does, England was getting all upset because Rose was a girl. I always made fun of her for that. Fuck she was such a bitch…I couldn't stand her. Glad she left. I never want to see her little face again. They always called her so fucking beautiful… Please. I'd rather stare at my horse's ass.
Whatever. Like I said, my mother needed a male. After I was brought into their lives-the little bundle of joy from above that I was-she couldn't have children anymore. Some messed up shit with her vag. I don't know. I don't want to think about my mom's…stuff.
New Thought…New Thought…
Just then I heard a loud sob rip from the girl's chest, bringing me from my thoughts. I looked down to the wood paneled floors almost freaking shining with how bright they were. One of the maids that worked in the palace sat there on her knees, as I had instructed her, naked and sobbing.
"What the fuck is your problem?" I asked trying to keep my tone light. She was staining my nice floors. Didn't exactly matter, though. It was probably her doing anyway. She would just have to do it twice.
"I'm…so…sorry, sir," she wept between sobs. God…I didn't want her crying all over me. Can't these girls just suck it up? I mean…they should be honored. You would think that if somebody like her was brought into suck on the Prince's cock she might be more appreciative. I contemplated letting her go or saying fuck it, my raging hard on is more important, just suck it.
"Please, sir. Please…don't…make me…do this. Please," she cried through sniffles.
Fuck this. I walked back over to the bed, lined in elegantly carved cherry wood and covered in the most comfortable red and gold bedding in Europe…not to mention it was really damn huge…and sighed. I could feel my cock aching behind my pants. I needed it badly. But…I couldn't be that heartless. Most of the maids I had used for my pleasure at least didn't say anything or were more than happy to oblige.
"Fine. Leave me." I spat, my voice bitter. I could hear her scramble for her clothes on the ground and slip and fall a few times in her haste. It was only a few moments before I heard the large wooden door slam shut.
I could solve the problem myself, though I was not in the mood to do so. I was soon-to-be-King of England. I should not have to resort to such lows. There were many noble girls I could call to me right now. They would greatly solve my problem. God, they didn't care if I threw them around and pretended like they were pieces of shit. I could never say I loved that. They were way too easy. But when it came to me and my hormones they got the job done. But they were nobodies to me. And they would never belong to me in any way.
Ever.
Because I didn't want a Queen when I was ruler. I didn't want to marry some bitch. All the girls were the same…they were submissive, blandly pretty, and skittish of anything remotely dangerous. They couldn't lift a finger. Now, submissive woman were okay in my book but…there's got to be such thing has independence, right? I'd never seen that impending fire in a woman. My father, Carlisle, claims he saw it in Esme. I don't think I'll ever see it. Not that I really care. Fuck marriage. It's such a hassle…for what? A fucking woman. No. Never. Not a chance. King Edward III- eternal bachelor.
Beautiful.
knock knock knock
"What!" I called, turning around to face the door.
"Edward." My father stated from the other side of the heavy wood doors.
Ugh. He was pissed.
What the fuck now?
"Please go away."
He walked in anyway, that look of rage plastered across his face.
"Not a chance."
"What do you want, Carlisle. I don't have all day." I could see his features tense as I said his first name, but I didn't give a damn. I called him Carlisle against his wishes all the time. It was odd because he should be named Edward, but no. Elizabeth, my grandmother and former Queen, decided that she wanted to name him Carlisle. Needless to say it caused some unneeded and irrational controversy and when I was born Carlisle just followed the broken tradition of naming me Edward. It's a good thing too. I loved my grandfather, rest in peace. He was a hard-ass like me. The only thing is that fucker fell in love. Regardless, Carlisle is a softy. He's nothing like me or his father. He's so…nice. A King shouldn't be nice. It goes against the code. Needless to say, though, the people of England love him and despise me. I can't wait to see them when he leaves and I take the crown. Maybe I'll start the next revolution…
"Edward." My father said, ice in his voice.
"What?"
"I need to talk to you."
"Obviously…"
"Do you have any respect for anything."
"Hear we go…"
"Edward. I'm serious."
"Just say it, father. I've heard it before."
"What are you expecting me to say."
"How dare you take advantage of the help. If you're mother only knew…ugh…she would be so ashamed. I can't believe you. You have to run a country, Edward! You can't be pulling stunts like this." I mocked in a poor imitation of his voice.
Carlisle's face was cross. The panes on his pale face were tense and furious.
"Well I don't think you understand that." He tried to say clearly through his teeth.
"Nope." No need to lie to him. I fucking didn't.
"Listen Edward…"
"Carlisle, I don't want to here it. Please just leave me alone."
"I'm not going to keep telling you to keep your dirty disgusting hands to yourself. God…you're just like your grandfather."
"Proudly." I replied sternly. He stared at me for a bit, not saying anything.
"I'm not going to yell at you…I just need to talk to you."
"How long is it going to take?" Because I had a fucking hard on that needed to be taken care of immediately and the pain resulting from my sexually frustrated cock is probably a lot more important than whatever your about to say…
"How ever long you make the conversation."
"What do you mean?" Fuck…he had to come in now.
"I mean your not going to like what we're talking about but I must insist on the matter…"
"Go on."
"How do I say this gently…" He seemed to deliberate for a moment. God damn him…with each passing second I was wondering how quickly I could just slip into the bathroom. Yes. It had to come to that.
"Listen Edward," his sure voice broke me from my thoughts…and my pain, "I know you are not very easily open to this fact. I know you do not enjoy this conversation. But, it's come to the point where I must insist on it. I don't care who it is, as long as she is in some way respectable. I don't-"
"Carlisle…please don't tell me-"
"I don't care who it is. But you must find a wife to rule by your side. If worst comes to worst, I'll choose one for you."
His words shocked me, the pain in my most sensitive area quickly subsiding and faltering all together. I thought I would never see the day when I would be forced to do such an insane thing. To give up my title as eternal bachelor and what…what? settle down. Steadily! With one woman?! Surely I could cheat, right? I mean…I didn't have to just stick with her would I? But then, if she was my wife, everything that is mine would somewhat be hers. I would have to actually care for somebody. I would have to…love. What the fuck is this?
I could feel myself getting worked up but I didn't allow that to flow like venom in my words. No, I stayed very content with my father when I answered. I used reasoning, not anger.
"But, Father, I don't want to marry a woman I'll never love. I don't want to do that to her." Honestly I could care less about what she thinks…
"I know that that's not true."
I stayed silent, watching his accusing eyes scan my face. He always knew me so well.
"You're grandfather said the same thing. He claimed he would never love a woman and he did. I have faith in the matter, son. So why don't you just suck it up and try to find somebody. Stop letting your hormonal immature side control the rational side. Or else you cannot possess the benefits of maturity."
"What are you saying."
"You cannot be King until you have married."
"Why?" I sneered through my teeth trying to fight back the rising anger. I could not believe him. That asshole. No King ever had that requirement before.
"Because it's about time you learned something. I'm not letting you, as you are now, rule England. That would be like suicide to the monarchy. You don't work well with parliament, not to mention the nobles. I can't even think of you becoming King right now."
"What the fuck are you saying? Are you saying that I'm not ready to run this mother fucker!? Are you seriously denying what I can do? Mmm? Actually, no. I don't care what you think. I'm not marrying, you son of a bitch! I can't believe-"
"Then you'll never become King!" Carlisle screamed at the words I'd shouted. They were filled with the venom I finally let slip.
"There are other ways. You'll die someday. And I'm your only son! There's nothing stopping me from becoming King then!" His chest was rising and falling, fury surging through out his whole body. I could read it perfectly on his face. He looked like he was about to say something, but decided to say nothing more. He stalked out of the room, tense and aggravated. He slammed the door on his way out, the heavy engraved wood smashing together with a sound like thunder.
Served him right. Nobody. Nobody. Asks me to do shit I didn't want to do. And then threaten my title. For what? A woman? How would that even change me? It wouldn't. England was in for it, that's all I knew it. If it was fear my father had for me ruling the country then it was the fear and downfall he would receive. I could change the piece of shit from the inside out. I could do whatever I fucking wanted, constitution be damned.
Marriage?! Just kill me. I hated my father. I hated him. He deserved to die. He deserved to watch his son rise to power above him. I would destroy everything he ever built while he watched from six feet under. I wonder if he would still have enough power in his bones, in his decaying flesh, to protest. Or maybe, for once, he would stop caring. I know I stopped. I didn't care about love or what's right. I cared about one thing-Edward Cullen. That was the only thing that mattered. And it was the only thing that ever would.
I sat in silence at dinner with my father that evening. I had stormed into the hall late. Luckily there weren't the countless nobles and their daughters and sons dining tonight with my father and my mother. This was god for two reasons-I was pissed and didn't want an audience and I didn't want to look all those noble girls right now. I was afraid my father would drop the ball-would utter that lovely piece of information that Prince Edward Cullen III, future fucking King of England, was looking for a wife. Oh god. When that little sweetheart got out in the open…well, let the games begin, I guess. I could see it now…those little bitches I use for my pleasure batting their annoying too-long eyelashes at me. I didn't like them like that and I never would. They knew this. But it wouldn't stop them. Not to mention the fathers would bribe us with obscene amounts of cash and other shit just to have his daughter spend time at the palace. Fuck. No, I seriously didn't want that information to get out.
"Hello, Edward." Carlisle greeted shrewdly.
"Hello, my father. How are we on this lovely evening. Good? Oh, that's great. Oh me? Well I'm just fucking-"
"Edward, please. No language and stop with the sarcasm. This is for the best, I promise." My mother's voice was always so different from the rest of the atmosphere at the palace. Everything was usually so tense and frustrating. She was always so light and open to the beauty of everything. But she was very proper and formal. She hated when I cursed. She was more disgusted with me than my father many times, but she loved me anyways.
I smiled lightly at my mother, appreciating just her presence at the table. She broke the mind-numbing tension between Carlisle and I.
I sat down across from Carlisle and to the side of Esme. Dinner was always such a show. I didn't care if we were royalty. Who cares this much about food? The table was large…huge. I don't know how many people it could hold because when those nobles and such sat their asses down in all these chairs I just never bothered to even count. It was a lot. But for just the three of us it was very bizarre. It was covered in a finely woven red tablecloth and lined in golden fringe. The walls were elegantly carved out of cherry wood, like many things in the palace, and had accents of red and gold strewn across the windows and the adjoining tables. It was beautiful, if you're in to that kind of stuff…
"So, Edward, I heard you didn't take the news too well." My mother chimed, her sweet voice filling my ears like music, soothing my anger at the flashy presentation of a small family dinner.
"I don't want to talk about it." I was about to get up and leave if they brought it up one more time. My mother did not say anything after that, keeping all comments to herself.
We sat in silence for pretty much the rest of the dinner. I could feel my father's eyes watching me though I did not look up. I began to push my chair out from underneath me, ready to leave, when my father's voice stopped me.
"We have a visitor coming tomorrow." Fuck. I didn't care. I would probably ignore them. Probably another one of those middle-aged over-proper English gentlemen. They always hated me, so I just stopped paying them any attention.
"Who?" I didn't even have to ask.
"Special priority."
"What?" Special priority? What the hell…That caught me off guard.
"I'm just saying, don't be alarmed if you notice a stranger here tomorrow."
"I notice strangers everyday. I don't pay attention to faces and names."
"Maybe you should try."
"Whatever."
"At least be somewhat hospitable to her."
Her? Special priority? Was he planning something? Damn him to hell if he was ever to think I would become attached to some random bitch who is staying in the palace for a few days. Probably just the same girl I've seen a thousand times. Well, it least if I had to take care of the same problem I did today, help would be right down the hall.
"Edward. Don't get any ideas." He knew me too well.
"How old?" I asked, teasingly making sure he really knew what I was thinking about.
"Edward."
"Just curious, Carlisle." I said with a wicked grin. He glared at me for a long moment, the same flicker of anger was reflected in his eyes now just as clearly as they were this afternoon.
"Twenty." Wow. Look at that. Just a year younger. And they say fate doesn't exist…
"Edward. I'm warning you now. Do not get any funny ideas."
"Oh, no. Of course not." The sarcasm was maybe a little too thick. They knew me. No need in hiding it.
"If I find out anything went on without her consent I will personally see to it that you never wear that crown."
His voice was ice.
And so was my body.
"How dare you! I'm your only son! Who the fuck else are you going to get to fill those shoes, huh?!" Fuck him. That was my title. That was rightfully my position. That asshole could do nothing.
"Your sister, Rosalie, and her husband, Emmett, would be more than happy to take your place. And don't think for a second England wouldn't be jumping for joy. They love Rose." He had me. And he could fucking tell. He gave me a smile that spiked so many nerves I was on fire. Before I could set off, burn all the trees down and destroy an entire country with the burning passion that flamed inside me now, Esme stood up and laid a hand on my tensed fist smashed down in the middle of the table.
"Son, calm down. Just do as your told. Please." She pleaded with me. I hated when she did that. I could pick a fight all day with my father, but never my mother. With one last death filled glare to my furious father, I stomped out of the grand banquet hall and into my room.
I refused to think of the possibility of my bitch of a fucking sister taking my well earned spot as the head and ruler of all. Of everything. I lusted for power just about as much as I lusted for those noble's daughters. And that wouldn't be ruined because of some girl. Maybe my father hired her to push my limits. To make me resist the temptation. He would do such a thing like that. I could tell he truly didn't want me to be King. But I guess I always knew that…whatever England hated, he hated. And England hated the idea of me becoming monarch.
I went to sleep that night completely frustrated and stressed from today. This wasn't over. I would be King and I don't care if it went against his wishes.
Oh. And fuck him for ever thinking that I would fall in love. I would never fall in fucking love.
Love wasn't even a word.
