"Which one of you went after her?" I open my mouth to answer, but Nikolaj lifts his hands up and stops me. "Is that why you've been staring at each other like that? You both went after her?" He comes to his own conclusions.
"Yes," Holden and I answer in unison.
"The two of you are shagging the Prime Minister's daughter?"
"We are," I tell him.
“How did that even fucking happen? Do you not know who her father is?"
"I think that's pretty self-explanatory," I deadpan.
"Very funny, Royal. Do you know how old she is? That's a big gap."
"You're pushing forty-two, right? What's the age difference between you and Ciara again?" Holden asks.
"You can't compare the two women," Duke snaps.
"Why not?” Holden challenges.
"You do realize Amelia’s father has the means and the manpower to make the two of you disappear without a trace?" I'm sure it's a joke, but the thought did occur to me as she was coming her head off against my tongue for the third time this morning while Holden was spewing his best dirty talk at her. Damn, I love when that woman sits on my face. "Are there no other single women in London?"
"Perhaps, but she's the one we want," I set him straight.
“She is, Duke,” Holden nods in agreement.
"Is it that as former Navy SEALs you have this ridiculous urge to live on the edge of danger twenty-four-seven to feel like you’re alive? Is that it? Do you not value your fucking balls?" Nikolaj fires questions at us without giving us a chance to answer them. "Are you bloody fucking crazy?" He nearly shouts that last one. "Christ.” This time he slaps his right cheek. His blue eyes are as big as saucers. Yeah, he’s having a hard time with this.
"She's a woman with needs, just like any other woman out there. It just so happens that Holden and I can give her what she wants. What her body craves," I explain.
That does little to appease Nikolaj.
“For the love of God and all that’s sacred, Royal. You two mates are spit roasting the only woman in the UK who’s a hair down from the Royal Family. She might not be one of King Albert’s granddaughters, but Amelia Cavendish is as close as you can get. Un-fucking-believable.” He pauses for a few long seconds. “You’re bloody double-stuffing her,” he repeats.
Technically, we haven't gone there yet.
CHAPTER 47
Amelia
It's a little past midnight by the time the car drops me in front of my building. After bidding Officer Stohler good night, I walk into my penthouse, lock the door behind me and nearly sprint to my bedroom. I drop my laptop and handbag on my dresser. Without wasting a second more, I strip naked. I'm so out of it that I don't even bother hanging up my clothes. I simply leave them on the armchair.
I'm just about to head to the bathroom when a thought pops into my head. I shrug it off at first, but it persists.
"I guess a little wine can't hurt," I laugh.
After nearly twelve hours of nonstop and relentless work, a glass of red will do me wonders. I normally wouldn't drink this late knowing that I have to get up early tomorrow to dig my way through today’s backlog, but this is no ordinary day. From the second my eyes peered open when Brandon came into Holden’s room to wake us up until now, nothing about this Monday resembles any other day in my life. And you know what? That's a good thing.
I waltz butt naked to my kitchen humming Latin sensation Luis Ponce’s, Suavecito, in my head. I even do a silly little dance when I try to rap like Daddy Yank. It's incredible that I still have an ounce of energy left. I guess I'm still high from my good fortune.
I pull out a glass from the cupboard and place it on the marble counter before making my way to the other side of the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine I opened on Thursday. It then hits me that that was the last evening I had dinner at my place. Since Friday, Brandon and Holden's penthouse has become my second home. Wow, what a difference a few days make. I stroll back to my glass, pour a sensible amount—it’s a school night after all—and bring the glass up to my lips. A few sips and the tension melts away from my body. Ahh. I’d normally bring the glass back with me to the bathroom and enjoy it while I soak in the bathtub, but I'm so tired. I decide to play it safe. I finish the rest of the wine in a few gulps and place the glass inside the dishwasher.
"Time for a bath," I cheer.
I stride back to my bathroom bobbing my head to the same catchy song that led me to the kitchen. As I step into the tub, a naughty memory from this morning flashes in front of my eyes. Instantly, my nipples harden and heat rushes to my cheeks. My clit throbs like crazy. Jesus.
I'm tempted to forfeit the whole idea of a bath and run straight to my treasure chest to fish out one of my favorite toys, but I don't.
"Be a good girl," I scold myself.
A good girl?
I love it when Brandon and Holden call me that. The funny thing is, I’ve been anything but good lately and I have them to blame for it. Given how I was shouting their names at the top of my voice as I came undone this morning, I really should be thanking them.
I push away the idea of self-pleasure and opt for something a lot more reasonable. My body and mind desperately need a nice long soak. I’m sure the warmth of the water will be more than enough. I mean, how many orgasms can a girl have in a day? Seriously. All good things should come in small doses or else a girl might lose her mind.
“This is exactly what the doctor ordered,” I say aloud. I just need to sit back and chill. I'm sure I'll sleep like a baby.
I turn on the faucets, check the temperature of the water and then turn it a little bit more to the left. I grab my English Rose bath gel and pour a few drops in the water. Once I'm happy, I squat down and ready myself to sit inside the tub to enjoy this relaxing time.
Well, that was my intention anyways.
Something comes over me as another hedonistic scene with my two American hunks flashes in front of my eyes. Damn. I’m just about to abandon this bath idea when a wicked thought plants itself inside my head. My initial reaction is to ignore it, but my clit protests vehemently.
“No, I can’t possibly do that.”
Why the hell not?
I lower myself completely until I'm sitting down. I place my hands behind me and scoot forward so that I’m right underneath the faucet’s head. Thank God for this modern showerhead. It’s so tall, it'll do the job perfectly. Once I balance myself, I slide my body down until the back of my thighs hit the ceramic tub.
“Ha," I gasp at the contact.
Without an ounce of shame, I lift my legs up and spread them wide open and let the water gush on my needy clit. Oh, God. I close my eyes and let my head lull back. Mmmm. The sensation is sublime. Why am I only discovering this now? With my left hand still behind me, I bring my right one to my pussy. I caress my clit with my middle finger, stroking it in slow rotations imagining that it’s Brandon or Holden’s hand pushing me further over the edge. Holy shit. The water makes my clit even more sensitive than it usually is. I tilt my hips back and forth clenching my pussy each time and sending a flurry of tiny electric surges to my brain. This so bloody good. Needing more, I lower my upper body until my back hits the base of the tub. I kick the lever with the sole of my foot to increase the water flow. Fucking perfect. I use both hands to spread open my pussy lips. The flow is so strong, it nearly takes my breath away. Yes. It's impossible for me to describe how intoxicating this feels. It's so consuming it reminds me of how lost I become when either of my boys have their mouths against my pussy.
It doesn't register immediately, but eventually I realize the tub is filling up. The more my body is submerged, the more turned on I become. As the water rises, I get closer and closer to tipping over the edge. Shit. I dunk my entire head under water desperately trying to curtail the mounting heat at my clit. I even hold my breath, hoping I'll find salvation by milking this moment a little longer. I'm dead wrong in my calculations. The lack of oxygen sends even more blood rushing to my clit.
I can't take it anymore.
I explode.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant when I lift my head out of the water. My body trembles uncontrollably as I aggressively pump my fingers in and out of my pussy determined to ride the first wave of my orgasm. "Oh. Oh. Oh," I mewl banging both feet against the wall.
I’m nearly hysterical.
My climax is the most core-shaking one I've ever experienced on my own. It's so powerful that I see stars.
“Oh my fucking God,” I sob, my voice echoing in the bathroom, making this moment even more lascivious than it already is.
That was bloody intense.
I thought the toe-curling orgasms at my own hands from Friday night after Brandon had kissed me for the first time and I had taunted Holden at my door were heart-stopping, but they hardly compare to this.
These past few days with them have transformed me into a ravenous beast.
I don’t mind this bad girl.
CHAPTER 48
Amelia
I’m barely awake from a saucy dream, still lost in an imaginary embrace with Holden and Brandon when I hear it again. Huh? It takes me a second to recognize the noise in the background.
“No, no, no,” I grumble when I make out the ringtone to my personal phone. “It’s too early,” I moan, flipping over and covering my head with my sheet. Eventually, the ringing stops. Thank God. Just when I think whoever is trying to reach me for the second time in a row got the message, my official phone chimes in. “What the hell?” I flip on my back with an exasperated exhale. I pull down the sheets exposing my naked breasts and turn to my right to check out the time. I gasp in shock, blinking at my clock. “Jesus. What’s so urgent?” When my official phone rings again, I decide it’s best to find out what’s going on. Clearly this has nothing to do with my father or else Officer Roderick would be knocking down my door. Once again, the ringing stops just to start over again. “I don't think I'm going to win this one." I fling the sheets off my body and reluctantly climb out of bed. With tired legs, I make my way to my handbag, which hasn't moved from where I left it last night. Just as I’m about to fetch my phone from the bottom of my handbag, my home phone rings. “Oh my God,” I grunt. “I’m going to kill whoever this is.” I run to living room as naked as the day I was born. I grab the receiver just before the call goes to voicemail.
"Hello," I say in a groggy voice.
“Amelia, it’s me?” a chipper voice cheers on the other end.
“Charlie?”
"Yes, finally. It's me."
“Are you okay?”
"I'm fine. I just needed to hear your voice."
"I'm really happy to finally speak to you again, but it's bloody six-thirty in the morning," I say. "Couldn’t it have waited until a little bit later in the day? You could've at least allowed me to have my first cuppa of the day."
“I'm so sorry, honey. I'm pretty sure the roosters are still sleeping, but it's a now or never situation."
"What do you mean?"
"Before I start ranting, how are you? How have you been keeping?" she inquires.
"I'm really good. Busy as always." I'm so flipping amazing, I'm flying. Of course, I refrain from saying that. There’s a fairly complex back-story to share first.
"Brilliant. I can't wait to hear all about last Wednesday's ceremony." If Charlie hasn't been keeping up with local news then she's really been engrossed by her client’s drama. "Since I can't stay on the phone too long, I’ll scold you in person for not showing up at the Warwick," she laughs.
"Duly noted," I laugh back. "In my defense, I have a good excuse," I add.
"Yeah, yeah. Spare me. You missed out on a fun night and you were never able to meet Damien and his twin brother. Dexter was very disappointed. He was looking forward to spending the evening with you."
"I can just imagine," I shake my head.
"On a happy note, your American boys weren’t there," she says. I know, they were with me.
"Have you sorted things out in Greece?” I veer the conversation to safer ground.
Charlie lets out a long exhale. "For the first time since I landed in bloody Athens, I'm not fighting with degenerate guards who don't speak a word of English on behalf of my wannabe-rebel teenybopper client. I've wanted to call you for days now, but Jason's record label company put the fire under my ass to sort out this royal mess." Yikes. "It's been dreadful. As if I’m the one who can't keep my dick inside my trousers."
"Ah, the Jason Belvedere saga that never ends," I say dramatically.
"So, you know the ugly truth?" she asks.
"It was quite by accident, but yes, I've read all of the sordid details. Terry also filled me in on some of the facts. I was dumbfounded."
"Whatever you've read online pales in comparison to reality. This has been an absolute bloody nightmare."
"At least the record label was smart enough to hire the very best publicist money can buy," I say. "A lesser PR expert might not have been up for the challenge. No matter how many excuses he offers, I don't think Jason can play down this mess. If anyone can dig the most ill-advised of them out of the shit, it's you," I laugh.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but there’s nothing remotely funny about this stupid situation. This scandal was absolutely avoidable. Jason's desire to show the world that he's no longer a teenage flash in the pan with a lucky string of number one hits under his belt—but rather a bona fide singing sensation—is tiring. He keeps pushing the limits and this last little stunt exploded in his face."
"I can just imagine," I sympathize.
"I was so livid with him, I was tempted to leave his ass rotting in that precinct, turn on my heel and fly right back to London. I'm sure some of the inmates would've appreciated that. Or one of the guards," she laughs.
"You're so mean," I scold.
"You say that because you haven't been posted here for the past six days. I’m completely disconnected from the world. I've been living in Jason Belvedere’s sordid sex bubble for far too long now. I can’t tell you how happy I am this is the last stretch."
"When are you back in London?"
"Fingers crossed that things get sorted out before lunch. After which, I'm rushing to the airport ready to buy a ticket at whatever price to get the hell out of here. I’m not even waiting for the record label’s private jet. I’m dying to fly back home," Charlie says.
"Thank God it's nearly over."
"I couldn't have said it better. Do you forgive me now for waking you up at this ungodly time? I just needed to talk to you."
"Don't worry about it. I have an early start myself, so this works well," I appease her. "Not to mention, that I couldn't wait to hear from you."
"I can't wait to see you again," Charlie says.
"Me too."
"I don't know how late I'll be back home today. This might drag on longer than expected. God forbid if that were to happen, but let's play it safe. Terry has already warned me that my day is booked back to back tomorrow. Why don't we connect in the evening for drinks or dinner?"
"I can't make it Wednesday night. I already have plans."
I wish I'd known in advance that Charlie was coming back home. I would’ve asked Holden and Brandon to make our reservations for another night.
“A networking event?" she asks.
"No, dinner with friends," I say, unwilling to offer more.
"Thursday evening then?"
"Thursday it is," I say. “You and I have a date."
"Brilliant. I can't wait."
"Neither can I."
"What are you in the mood for? I’ll get Terry to make the reservations for us," she offers.
"This Jason Belvedere story is loaded. Perhaps not the best topic to talk about in public." That also applies to what I have to share with you.
"You're right," she agrees. "Your place?"
"Let's meet at yours instead."
I know this sounds crazy, but I don't want Charlie to accidentally bump into Brandon or Holden before
I give her the play-by-play of my wanton story.
"That works well since my cleaning lady will be there in morning. Seven o'clock?"
"Perfect. I have a meeting in the late afternoon that will end around six. I'll be in your neighborhood. Why don't I swing by your office and we’ll grab a taxi together?"
"Excellent. I can't wait. Martinis?"
"Definitely. Lots of them," I laugh.
"I'll make sure to stock up. I'm excited. It promises to be quite the night," Charlie concludes.
You could say that.
CHAPTER 49
Brandon
Amelia, Holden and I are sitting in one of the private dining rooms at Cremini restaurant. After indulging in some of the best food I've eaten, we savor the bold red Amelia selected. It's no surprise that she has excellent taste in wine, but this Brunello di Montalcino is truly superb. It hits the spot nicely after another long twelve-hour day.
We couldn't believe it, but when Holden and I showed up at the office at seven a.m., there were already several members of our crew hard at work. Trust me, I’m not complaining, but it was a sign of things to come. From the moment we joined the team in the conference room, we worked at breakneck speed trying to juggle the massive flood of new orders. Chilling with two of my favorite people in such an outstanding setting makes up for the stressful day.
“I still can't get over the fact that you reserved the entire boat so that it’ll only be the three of us floating along River Thames," Amelia laughs.
"I want to offer you a unique experience," I explain.
"Although I haven't set foot on that boat yet, I think it's safe to say, mission accomplished. I doubt I'll forget that adventure anytime soon," she smiles.
"Trust me, it'll be a first for us as well," Holden says. "I'm as impressed as you are by Brandon's ingenuity."
"Thanks,” I grin.
"Are you going to share the feature films with me or are you still going to keep me in the dark?" Amelia asks with sparkling eyes.
Bad Boy SEALs Page 39