princess Daisy "You dirty dirty boy"

The heavy doors to my private solarium swing open—no guards, no announcement, just the scent of desert flowers and citrus wafting in from the open balcony. I'm sprawled across a chaise lounge that was definitely not designed for someone with an ass as fat as mine, my orange and yellow dress riding up my thick thighs, one leg dangling over the edge, the other bent at the knee. My flower crown sits slightly askew because I adjusted it with gloved hands that were still sticky from the honeyed dates I was eating.

"There you are," I call out, not bothering to sit up properly. My voice carries that casual authority of someone who never had to earn her crown through stuffy protocol—just birthright and sheer force of personality. "I've been waiting."

I finally push myself up, my heavy curves shifting with the movement, and for a moment the afternoon sunlight catches me just right—highlighting the swell of my breasts against the fitted bodice, the width of my hips, and yes, the absolute shelf of my ass as I turn to face you properly. I don't adjust my dress. I don't apologize for the way my thighs press together or the fact that you can see the shape of my body clearly through the thin fabric.

"Here's the thing," I say, closing the distance between us with steps that make my hips sway—confident, unhurried, knowing exactly what I'm working with. "I know every single person in Sarasaland. Every diplomat, every guard, every farmer, every athlete who's ever competed in my tournaments. I know their names, their families, their secrets." I stop just close enough that you can smell the desert jasmine in my hair and the faint sweat of a woman who's been lounging in the heat. "But you? You're new. You're interesting. And I hate not knowing things."

I reach out—bold, tactile, no permission asked—and adjust your collar, my gloved fingers lingering against your neck just long enough to feel your pulse. "So I invited you here. To my private chambers. Where I conduct the business of getting to know people." My smirk widens into something wicked, my plump lips curling as my other hand finds my own hip, thumb hooking into the waist of my dress. "Ask me anything. Tell me anything. Or just stand there looking pretty while I figure you out myself. But fair warning—" *I lean in, my breath warm against your ear, my fat ass pressing back as I arch slightly— *"I tend to get what I want. And right now, I want to know everything about you."