The Royal Nanny

by V Vee

  "You want me, baby?" he asked her.

  Leyah nodded and Alastair shook his head.

  "No, no. I want to hear you say it," he demanded of her.

  "Y-yes. I want you, Alastair," Leyah panted out.

  Alastair nodded his head, pleased that she so readily agreed to tell him what he wanted to hear. Pushing up the skirt of her uniform, he pushed his hand beneath her underwear, his fingers collecting her juices that soaked the seat of her lace undergarment. He smoothed Leyah’s wetness over her clit and stroked the swollen nub, all while he kissed her deeply until they had to come up for air. Even then, he kissed every inch of exposed flesh. Her neck, chin, behind her ears, her clavicle, throat, the patch of skin exposed by the top two buttons on her shirt being freed. He couldn’t get enough of her, and if the sounds of her panting, moaning his names, and whispered prayers to her gods was any indication, she wanted more of him as well.

  “That’s right, give it to me,” he demanded of her.

  “Yes, Alastair, please,” Leyah pleaded. She opened her eyes and stared at him. “Please, Sir. Please make me come.”

  Her submission sent a shiver of pure bliss roaring up his spine, and without thought, Alastair brought Leyah’s hands to his belt buckle. Her fumbling with trying to free him from his fabric prison did not cool his ardor, instead it only enflamed his senses even more. He lowered her onto the blanket and pushed her legs apart. Feeling Leyah’s small hand on his shaft made Alastair tip his head back and groan. God above, she made him feel amazing without even trying.

  When the softness of her fingers wrapped around his cock, Alastair had to grit his teeth and think of polo in order to prevent himself from coming too early. He kissed along Leyah’s neck, his hands caressing her body as if he were blind and she were a long letter written in braille. He grabbed her hand and showed her how he liked his dick stroked. A firm grip and long, slow strokes. When she instinctively pressed the pad of her thumb against the ridge of his shaft, Alastair’s hips jerked, and he hissed.

  “God, what are you doing to me, woman?” he groaned.

  “I-I don’t know,” Leyah whispered in return, still holding onto him, jerking him off.

  Alastair buried his face in the join of her neck and shoulder, his pelvis thrusting back and forth, as he jerked himself off into her hand. Not wanting to neglect her as he sought out his own pleasure, Alastair slid his hand beneath her underwear and met her slickness with his fingers. He spread the moisture over the lips of her pussy before stroking his digits up to her clit.

  As Leyah continued to bring him pleasure with his hand, he tried to focus on using his own to bring her the same desire. Leyah’s moans, whimpers, and gasps were like a beautiful, haunting melody playing in his ears and he added his own groans, grunts, and harsh sighs in harmony. As his climax approached quickly, Alastair sped up his caresses of Leyah’s slit. She was drenching his fingers and Alastair was hard-pressed to not remove her hand from his shaft and plunge his tongue—or his cock—deep within her entrance.

  “A-Alastair!” Leyah cried out, her back bowing and her head pressing against the blanket beneath them.

  Alastair took her mouth with his own in an effort to quiet her sounds of pleasure. He didn’t want the guards, whom he knew were nearby, though they were hidden from sight, to hear or enjoy what belonged only to him. His balls pulled up tight to his body and fire roared through his blood. He swallowed Leyah’s sobs as she soared through her orgasm, his own crashing right on the heels. His body shook as his seed spurt from the tip of his dick.

  Moments later, when he realized he was probably crushing Leyah, and he felt somewhat more in control of himself, Alastair pulled his fingers free of her underwear and rolled over to his back. His spent cock flopped against the fabric of his trousers, not completely deflated, just not as hard. He turned his head and smiled at the blissful expression on Leyah’s face. Needing to have her taste in his mouth, Alastair placed his fingers in his mouth and sucked Leyah’s juices from the digits. Groaning as her essence washed over his taste buds. His cock twitched, wanting to come back to life. Alastair groaned and shoved his semi-hard shaft back into his pants. He reached over to basket and reached inside of it for a napkin.

  Pouring some water from one of the bottles he’d had packed, Alastair then leaned down and wiped away his ejaculate and Leyah’s own moisture from her thighs. Leyah lay practically comatose and let him do what he wanted without protest or movement. Alastair chuckled and shook his head. Once he was finished, he put the dirty napkin back into the basket, and tugged down Leyah’s skirt.

  Once she was presentable again, Alastair lay next to her, his elbow braced on the blanket covered ground, his head balanced on his hand. He stroked his hand up and down her arm as he waited for her to turn to look at him, or to acknowledge him in some way.

  “Before my father was murdered, he would take time out of every day to tell me how special I was. How beautiful and intelligent. That I was meant for great things,” Leyah spoke finally, the words startling Alastair who had fallen into a contented daze. Her eyes were still closed while she spoke, her lips swollen from his kisses and the nibbles he’d placed on them. “He would also warn me about boys and eventually men who would try to take advantage of me. Who would want the thrill of taking my virginity. To be able to boast about it to their friends. But that they wouldn’t want me in the end. He cautioned me to stay away from men like that.” Alastair didn’t speak, not knowing where Leyah was going with her words. His breath caught in his chest when she finally opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were so intense, so open and honest that Alastair felt humbled. He also felt a wave of possessiveness and a need to protect her overcome him so overwhelmingly that his hand reflexively squeezed Leyah’s arm.

  “My father warned me about so many things, but he didn’t prepare me for you,” she admitted. “What am I supposed to do when it comes to you?”

  Alastair smiled gently at her and cupped her cheek. “What do you want to do with and to me?”

  Leyah rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be dirty, prince.”

  “I am not being dirty, princess,” he said with a smirk, trying to get her used to her new title. He frowned when she stiffened, and he brushed his hand along the curve of her shoulder and down her arm. “Hey, hey, no need to be afraid,” he soothed her. “You’re going to have to get used to people referring to you in such a way,” he told her. “When we are married in two weeks the people of Malvidence, nay, the entire world, will be calling you Princess Leyah.”

  When her eyes filled with tears, he gathered her close to his chest, sitting up and pulling her up with him. He tugged her into his lap and ran his hand over her hair, trying to comfort her. Though he was unsure why she needed to be comforted. Wasn’t it every little girl’s wish to one day meet a prince, fall in love, and become a princess? That’s what he’d been told by so many of his friends over the years. Hell, when he’d gone to England for the wedding of his friend, the journalist and television news personalities had said the same thing numerous times.

  So, what made Leyah so different? Was her hesitation, her recalcitrance over them having a relationship because he was a princess and not because of the fact that she was a nanny? Did his lovely honey-skinned beauty desire a life of simplicity and normality and not one of opulence, luxury, elegance, untold wealth, fame, and… possible dangerous situations? Granted, that last bit was enough to put off even the most seasoned and hardened individual, his sweet, virgin Leyah was not wrong in being cautious about tying herself to him for that reason. However, though she tried to present an air of fragility at times, Alastair knew better. Leyah was a woman of steel determination, courage, bravery, fortitude, and possessed a warrior spirit.

  No. There was something else going on.

  “Miora ruĝa,” he said softly. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

  Leyah shook her head where it lay pressed against his chest, and Alastair had a feeling
that if he continued to press her she would only pull away from him. Not only physically but emotionally and mentally as well. He didn’t want that. Not when they’d come so far.

  “Tell me about your parents. Do they live here in Malvidence as well?” he asked her, taking note of the way her body stiffened against him again. Hmm, so her family seems to be a sensitive subject for her. I wonder why that is. I’ll have to ask Danorian about it when I get a chance, he thought to himself.

  “No. My parents don’t live here. They were killed five years ago,” Leyah remarked, her voice dull and emotionless.

  Alastair inhaled sharply. “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry,” he commiserated. “You were how old?”

  “Fourteen,” Leyah answered. “The men who came and invaded our home captured them, put them on their knees and were looking for me as well, but Dan-Japheth, he saved me. Pulled me to safety so that I wasn’t found. But I had to listen as my kutíbābā and kotíbābā were killed,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. Alastair felt his heart break in his chest at the sound of her grief. “They didn’t beg or plead. They didn’t ask for mercy. Except when it came to me. They asked them not to kill me. My father, he was strong even when faced with death, and my mother.” Leyah shook her head. “She looked graceful and immovable, even on her knees with a rifle pressed against her temple. The last time I saw them they were holding hands, preparing to meet Raja’alla.”

  Alastair knew Raja’alla was one of the gods the people of Wakanda believed in, and he was surprised but proud to know that his sweet Leyah’s parents had held on to the culture and traditions of their people even after they immigrated to Malvidence. He wracked his brain trying to remember any reports of home invasions five years or more ago. While Malvidence was certainly not a utopian society, there was crime. Murders, robberies, rapes… they were not plagued with the sheer terror and overwhelming devastation of crime like the Americas: North and South, or even the numerous terrorist attacks of France and England. Though, that was certainly changing as The Rebellion amped up their focus and attacks on their kingdom.

  Be careful, Las, he warned himself. Your arrogance is starting to show.

  “Were the men ever caught? The ones who murdered your parents?” he asked.

  He released Leyah when she pulled away from him and looked up into his face. He stilled as he noticed the gleam of satisfaction and an unholy light of revenge in her eyes. He’d never seen her look that way before. She looked as if she were an avenging angel, hellbent on destruction as she brought justice to victims around the world. While Alastair knew that some part of him should be disgusted or at least turned off by that thought, he felt himself plump in his trousers. God almighty, what this woman did to him!

  “Yes. Japheth and myself as well as other… family friends, captured the men, made them tell us who they worked for, why they’d come after my parents and me, and we… took care of them,” Leyah stated, her eyes watching closely looking for something. What? Condemnation? Anger? Disgust? Well, she would find none of those things in his eyes. He was proud of her. Damn proud of her that even after losing her parents at fourteen she was able to fight back. That she got justice for her folks and turned around, pursued an education, and made something of herself. Leyah hadn’t allowed the circumstances of her childhood dictate what she would be, how she would act, and she hadn’t allowed it to slow her down. Alastair was fucking proud of her.

  So, he told her that. He smirked when her eyes widened as she listened to his words. When he finished, he pulled her back to his chest and began to tell her about his own childhood. About the tricks he and his younger brothers had pulled on Algerone and Augustus, and how he would then turn around and would retaliate against Andreas and Alfie. One of the best things about being the middle child was the fact that he was neutral on almost every matter when it came to his brothers. He was never on just one side. He was on both sides, and no one ever suspected him of being a double agent. It was perfect.

  He smiled as Leyah laughed at his antics and his stories. He hadn’t realized they’d sat outside talking, laughing, and getting to know each other as long as they had until his phone rang with a message from Algerone asking him if he planned to return “his nanny” any time soon. Alastair blinked and looked around. Night had fallen and no doubt Algerone and Valerie were preparing for dinner. They would want Leyah to come and watch Dahni and the twins.

  However, when he looked down at Leyah he found her sleeping softly against his chest, her mouth slightly open, a small trail of drool hanging from the corner of her lip to his shirt. Normally he would have been turned off by such a sight, but on her, he found it completely adorable.

  Standing and scooping her up in his arms, Alastair headed back to the palace. He would wake her when they got to Algerone and Valerie’s suite, place the 6-carat princess-cut diamond, surrounded by tiny diamonds on her ring finger, and then he would have dinner with her and the rest of his family as he formally introduced her. His fiancée. Future wife. Future mother of his children.

  His princess.

  He stood hidden by the trees, his eyes on Prince Alastair and Princess Aa’Leyah as they headed back to the palace. He’d been shocked when he heard Prince Alastair say that he was marrying the Waldakan princess in two weeks. How could she do that? Had she become so enamored, so dick-whipped, that she would turn her back on her people? He’d had to clench his fist and bite his tongue to stop himself from pulling out his gun and shooting them both.

  The time had come. He’d tried and failed to kill Prince Algerone and Princess Valerie, letting his accomplice, Shadven, take the fall for him, but this time he would be successful.

  First, he would out Princess Aa’Leyah as the princess of Waldakan and then he would kill both her and the fucking Malvidencian prince she’d fallen in love with.

  The Prince’s Princess

  Photos For Leyah & Alastair

  Chapter Twenty-One

  L eyah took a deep breath and brushed the palms of her sweaty hands down her lilac cocktail dress. Her hair had been brushed—by Alastair of all people—to a beautiful, fine, mirror-like shine, and she’d curled it after applying leave-in conditioner by Kinky Curls ™. She looked at herself in the mirror that hung on the wall next to the door of her suite. Her eyes were bigger than she’d ever seen them. Not because of the flawless makeup applied by the makeup specialist Princess Valerie had on standby, sent over to make sure Leyah looked flawless. No, her eyes were wide with fear. Pure, unadulterated fear.

  She was meeting the king and queen of Malvidence in a few short minutes and she wasn’t entirely sure how she would react or how the dinner would go. On the one hand, she was anxious and nervous about meeting her fiancé’s parents. On the other hand, she was meeting the man and woman responsible for the murder of her parents. Rage battled with anxiousness. Nervousness against murderous intent. A hope that they would find her acceptable to marry their third son against the need to get revenge and justice for her kutíbābā and kotíbābā.

  Lowering her gaze to the sideboard that sat just inside her suite, Leyah’s eyes landed on the necklace and earrings that her father had given to her on the day she’d started her monthly cycle. They were the treasured Waldakan jewels. Passed down from generation to generation. They were antiques and they were priceless. She bit her lower lip as she considered whether or not she would wear the necklace and ring to dinner.

  Lifting the necklace, she wrapped the long 24k white gold necklace, interspersed with spinel gems around her neck twice, leaving the longer strand hanging down her back. Picking up the ring which was almost a replica, Leyah slipped it onto her right ring finger. Stepping back in her silver peep toe stilettos, Leyah turned side-to-side to see how she looked. She was showing a bit of cleavage but not too much with the A-line skirt, Princess off-the-shoulder sleeves, tea-length, chiffon and lace cocktail dress with beading sequins that she’d bought from JJ’s House online two months back on a whim.

  She was literally wearin
g a princess dress. King Callum and Queen Araminta would either appreciate her efforts, or they would do a background check on her. One much deeper than the cursory one Alastair had obviously ran on her. No. She could see the king and queen running her fingerprints, DNA, checking up on every reference and lead. Leyah began to have trouble breathing as every possibility and scenario ran through her head. Her lungs burned, her chest growing tight. She rubbed a hand over the area where her heart lay and bent over, desperately trying to suck down air.

  “Hello, my beautiful fut—Leyah!” Alastair’s voice sounded faint but full of panic. She felt his arms wrap around her shoulders. She couldn’t respond to him as his voice came to her ears muffled. Her hands shook, and her entire body trembled.

  Some kind of warrior she was. Her ancestors would be so disappointed in her. Hell, her parents would be ashamed of her. She couldn’t even face the possibility of having dinner with the king and queen of Malvidence, and she thought she would be able to dethrone them and have them exiled from the country because she got a job as a nanny?

  She was delusional. She’d let down her people. Her parents. Not only because of her current panic attack, but because of the fact that she’d truly, genuinely, and hopelessly fallen in love with Alastair. Prince Alastair. The son of her family’s mortal enemy. An arrogant, smug, demanding, possessive, controlling bastard.

  A devastatingly handsome, funny, compassionate, giving, protective bastard that made her heart stop every time he was near her. That made her heart sing when he called her miora ruĝa. My love. She was his love. And as she sat on his lap struggling for air, her eyes filled with tears, she realized that the two of them were very much a modern-day tragic love story. Her people and those closest to her, hated him, his family, and his entire kingdom. And vice versa. But as for the two of them? They loved each other madly. Desperately. Hopelessly. Endlessly.