His Majesty's Devious Sins

"No way…" Lydia breathed out when the car came to a rolling halt. 

Lydia rolled down the window, at a loss of words. The spooky forest was replaced by a wonderland of lights. There were flower arches with lights curled around the vines, creating a path through the forest grounds.

Weston was suddenly in front of her door. He opened it and offered her a hand, a charming smile on his roguish features. 

"Come," Weston said, knowing she was enjoying every moment of this. 

Her eyes were glued to the beautiful archways he ordered to be set up. The light reflected in her beautiful gaze, like a sun-speckled moss ocean. She was drawn to the archway's beauty, spinning on her heels to get a better look at it.

"It's so beautiful," Lydia whispered, not knowing there was an entire camera crew hidden in the bushes to capture this moment. 

Lydia was in awe when he pulled her archway through archway, wisteria hanging from the highest ones. Petals twirled and fell with each step, and she was falling even more in love with Weston. 

Weston turned her worst fear into her greatest dream. She was beginning to tear up with the realization of what was to come. They walked through the forest and towards the meadow of their first date. 

They had been to plenty of other dates after that, like the movie premiere, where she banned his private jet. 

Weston had fumed the entire ride, glowering at her audacity. He looked like a child who didn't get his way, his fists balled. He had warned her he'd get his payback, and that night in bed, he did. She had been spanked until she was dripping wet, but she enjoyed every moment of the punishment.

"What are you thinking about?" Weston inquired, recognizing that look in her eyes. Thirst and hunger for more. 

She always looked up at him like that in bed, her mouth saying one thing, but her body wanting more.

"The great sex we'll have later," Lydia mumbled, continuing to take in everything.

Before Weston could respond, Lydia gasped, her eyes growing wide at the meadow. It had been a while since she last had been here.

In fact, it'd been three years. There were flameless candles laid on the ground, forming a cliche heart, but she was a sucker for these types of things.

"I hate how I love cheesy things like this," Lydia groaned, her eyes growing watery when she knew exactly what this meant. 

Weston simply laughed, for he was going to tease her even more. It seemed this wasn't as much of a surprise as he thought it was. She was smart and had put the pieces together. He expected no less from her. 

"Then come closer. Let's celebrate this cheesy thing together," Weston said. 

Weston grabbed her hand and began pulling her towards the center of the heart crafted from roses and candles. It was what he had been stressing over the entire morning. 

Suddenly, booms went off in the distance. Lydia spun around, her voice caught in her throat. 

Thousands of flowers bloomed in the night sky, fireworks spreading far and wide, turning the gloomy darkness into a world of color. She couldn't look away from the beautiful scene, the fireworks with the mountains as its scenery, and the star-speckled skies. 

Despite the fireworks crackling, her heart was racing loudly. She had never expected this kind of proposal.

"My dear fireball," Weston began, squeezing her hand for attention.

Lydia's eyes snapped to him, her throat clogged with emotions. Weston looked her in the eyes and lowered onto one knee. Her lips trembled in disbelief as he slowly grinned.

"You already make me the happiest man in the world," Weston said. "But let's be happy together, under one roof, one sky, and one joined heart. Marry me, Lydia, and I'll give you the world."

"How can you give me the world when you said I'm your world?" Lydia choked out, her hands shaky when Weston chuckled. He pulled out a fancy black box with gold borders.

Lydia's heart was racing when he uncapped the black velvet box, only to reveal a much smaller box. He discarded the first one and popped it open, her world coming to a halt.

Inside the box sat a light pink diamond, as large as the heavy droplets on a rose petal sliding to the ground. It was surrounded by sharp tear-cut diamonds, forming the figure of a blooming flower, with the enormous pink jewel as the centerpiece.

The gold band reflected the fireworks, sparkling even in the darkness, with curled designs like the tips of a burning flame. 

The ring was perfect.

"Will you marry me, my little fireball—" 

"Of course I will! What kind of question is that?" Lydia gushed, throwing herself onto him.

Weston effortlessly caught her with one arm, holding the ring up before it fell into the ground and dirtied her fingers. 

Weston laughed when she pressed her body weight onto him, wishing he'd fall onto the ground. But he was strong from all of the strength of embracing a Golden Rose. Even so, he allowed her to win, just this once, and laid on the ground.

"I fell for you again, literally," Weston retorted, smiling up at her.

Lydia peered down at him and tried to take the box from his hand but he dodged it. 

"Give me your hand," Weston instructed her.

Lydia stuck out her trembling hand and he grasped it gently, like it was the nation's treasure. He slid the ring onto her ring finger, the exact one that had a vein connecting to the heart. This was why it was called the ring finger in the first place.

"I said it'd be worth the wait, didn't I?" Weston asked, grabbing her chin and pulling her in for a gentle kiss. 

Weston rarely gave her these, but he loved it. He savored the moment, tasting her mouth, taking her slick tongue, and sucking upon it. 

She moaned into his mouth, as he began to debate the idea of screwing her on the floor, but knew it'd dirty her more than his seed would.

"All of a sudden, I like this forest," Lydia said.

Lydia pulled back, her hands resting on his chest, a dreamy look on her face. She grinned down at him, observing his taut brows, the squint of his eyes, and his devious smile. 

Weston was handsome in a strict and stern manner that made people wonder what his soft side was like. Especially when he narrowed his eyes whenever he looked at something that displeased him.

"Great, that's my plan of lowering my victim's guards when I take them here next time to kill them," Weston sweetly said, stroking the side of her face before cupping it. 

Lydia leaned into his touch, nervously laughing.

"You need to stop saying jokes with a straight expression," Lydia mused, enjoying how cold his skin was compared to her warm face. 

"Who said it's a joke?" Weston seriously asked, bringing her in for another kiss. But she turned her head, and he kissed her cheek. He didn't stop there, his lips nibbling to her ears, to the exact spot her scent was always the strongest.

"Just wait until I bring you on a date to the world's scariest haunted house," Lydia responded. "Then you'll have a taste of your own medicine."

"The saying is 'a taste of your own poison,'" Weston deadpanned.

"No, it's a taste of your own medicine," Lydia argued.

Weston narrowed his eyes. "I've read enough literature to know what the actual phrase is, my fireball."

Lydia scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I guess you haven't read enough."

Weston quirked a brow. He sat them up, her straddling him, and his hands resting on her waist. He was racking his brain, trying to remember which was the truth, but his thoughts were jumbled by her sugar and spice scent.

"It's alright to be wrong once in a while," Lydia said, tracing his lips with her thumb. 

Lydia was humored by the red lipstick stain she had smeared on his mouth, but he didn't even mind it.

"Weston Fitzcharles is never wrong," Weston retorted, bringing her closer, resting his forehead against hers. Their noses brushed together and he smiled, kissing her on the lips.

"I hate to tell this to you, buddy," Lydia drawled. "But step one of being a husband—your wife is always right."

Weston loudly laughed at her words, deciding to let her have this one, since he had the rest of eternity to have his way with her.