The Royal Arrangement: Prequel to The Rebel Queen

by Jeana E. Mann

  12

  HENRY

  * * *

  The minute I step over Everly’s threshold, my erection tents my trousers. The thought of her tight pussy clouds my brain. Her backside sways enticingly as she kicks off her shoes and pads barefoot through the foyer. I ruffle a hand through my hair.

  “Come on in.” She tosses her purse onto a small table in the hall and motions for me to follow.

  “You have a nice place.” Her apartment is classy and formal, feminine but not frilly, with a good view of the park across the street. I trail along behind her. My palms sweat like I’m a teenage boy again. I search for something to say, anything to break the tension. “Have you lived here long?”

  “No.” When she pushes open the next door, we’re in her bedroom.

  My gaze locks onto the queen-sized bed, the cream-colored duvet and the rows of matching pillows. She turns to face me. In her bare feet, the top of her head comes to the bottom of my chin. It’s too easy to imagine her on her knees, unzipping my fly and taking out my erection. The traitorous monster stands straight up, nudging my waistband.

  “I don’t normally do things like this.” She waves a hand through the air. “You know, invite strange men up to my bedroom.”

  “We’re not strangers, remember? I’ve already been inside you.”

  “I have a busy afternoon, so we need to be quick.” Her lashes veil her eyes from me as she peeks over her shoulder. “Can you get my zipper?”

  “Of course.” After sweeping her hair aside, I pull the tab down to reveal a sliver of flawless porcelain skin. I trace a finger down the groove of her spine. Gooseflesh pebbles on the milky white surface.

  “Thanks.” When she faces me once more, the dress puddles at her feet.

  I suck in an awed breath. She’s wearing a nude bra, matching panties, and nothing else. My hands curl into fists to keep from touching her. A monumental effort, considering the ache in my balls. With each breath, her breasts rise and fall inside their prison of lace. I loosen the knot in my tie, remove my cufflinks, because—fuck me—this is an opportunity I can’t miss. One more time. Just once and I’ll be ready to move on. “Do you have a condom?”

  “Yes.” The way she rolls her lips together makes me think she’s more nervous than she lets on.

  “Great.” My fingers rush over the buttons of my shirt, the belt buckle, the zipper of my pants. Her eyes follow my movements. I shed my jacket then toe off my shoes, knowing with each passing second, the lines between cunning and lust are blurring. It’s not too late for me to make an excuse and leave, but I can’t. Not without tasting her first.

  “Let me do that.” Before I can form words, her hands are on my belt, tugging the leather through the loops, shoving my slacks and boxers down over my hips. My cock, at full mast, springs forward, eager for freedom. Like me, he has only one mission in mind, one that doesn’t involve leaving. She exhales. “You have a beautiful cock, Your Highness.”

  I can’t help a moment of smugness. All men love compliments about their endowment. “He’s eager to fuck that amazing pussy of yours.” A smile tilts her lips. Her warm fingers wrap around my shaft and give a delicate pull. This is such a bad idea, yet it’s perfect. We’ll fuck. I’ll lock her in as my mistress and be on my way in twenty minutes.

  “Careful,” I warn. “You’re literally holding the future of Androvia in your hand.”

  “Being careful is overrated.” Her grip tightens. I’m dizzy as she lifts on tiptoe, placing her lips next to my ear, tickling my skin with her words. Blood rushes out of my brain and into my cock until my heartbeat throbs against her palm.

  An unsettling thought puts a halt to my desire. “Did your father put you up to this?”

  “What?” Her eyes widen in genuine surprise. “Is that what you think? That I’m some kind of double agent?”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’ll fuck you either way, but you can’t blame me for asking. Your appearance at the Devil’s Playground, showing up at the restaurant today…those are huge coincidences.”

  “I met you at the Devil’s Playground last night because you invited me. I accepted your invitation to prove to myself that someone other than Nicky might find me attractive. As for lunch today, it was meant to patch things up with Rourke, the one person who means more to me than anyone. I had no idea you or my father or Nicky would be there. If I had, I’d never have chosen that place.” In a show of breathtaking defiance, she juts her chin. “As for Don McElroy—the only thing we share is DNA. Believe what you want, but that’s the truth of it.” As she speaks, her nails scrape lightly over my balls.

  The last drop of blood drains from my brain and races to my dick. Everything about her beckons me like a siren, from the confidence of her voice to the steel in her backbone. Perhaps I’ve underestimated American women. I have no idea if she’s speaking the truth, and I don’t care. In this minute, I’d do anything, go anywhere, move heaven and earth to have more of her. A strange state of affairs for a man with power issues. I slide my hands over her shoulders and down her arms. She smells better than any woman has a right to. Her skin is velvety smooth and soft beneath my palms. I can give up control for the time being. Knowing she’s affected by me is more than enough.

  “How should we proceed?” I ask, satisfied enough with her answers to move on to more pleasant business. “Quick and dirty? Slow and seductive? Hard and fast?” I walk her backward toward the bed then ease her onto the mattress.

  “You tell me.” Her long legs part, letting me settle between them. The sensation of smooth thighs around my waist annihilates the last of my self-control. “I don’t want to make any decisions.”

  “That’s exactly the right answer.” Victory intoxicates my brain. By the time I leave, it’ll be with her scent on my clothes and the memory of her tight body beneath mine. I’m going to rule her pussy like I’ll rule my kingdom, with relentless strength and precision. I fist a hand into the hair at her nape, making her look at me. Her blue eyes widen in surprise, but the flare of her nostrils escalates my desire. “Do you like that? Tell me.”

  “Yes,” she murmurs. “I like a man who knows how to take control.”

  I smooth a hand over her waist, slide my hand inside her panties. Dragging a finger between her folds, I find her wet with arousal. “You’re soaked.”

  “I need this.” Her hips buck up as my thumb slips inside her. “Tick-tock, Prince Heinrich.”

  “Patience, love.” With my left hand, I trap both her wrists above her head. I want her squirming with need before I mount her. Her lips part to moan when I brush a knuckle over her clit. Just because our time is limited doesn’t mean I can’t be a thorough lover. Some people call me a selfish bastard, but I’ve never left a woman wanting. I press a kiss to her throat. “The lady always comes first.”

  “A prince and a gentleman.” Her voice breaks as my fingers move faster between her legs. “You’re a rare find, Your Royal Highness.”

  Power zings through my veins at the formal address. The title is respectful, subservient, and a little naughty. Everything I like. “Say that again.”

  “Your Royal Highness.” The breathiness in her voice means I’m close to driving her over the edge.

  “A man can be dominant and still be responsive to his partner’s needs.” Tiny moans punctuate her gasps, and nothing has ever been more seductive. My balls draw up from watching the edges of her teeth bite into her lower lip. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes. Oh, yes.” The way her legs twitch suggests I’ve drawn this out long enough. I can’t wait to hear her cries of pleasure when she comes.

  “Too bad we don’t have more time, beautiful. I’d love to put my mouth on this pussy of yours and make you beg for my dick.” I release her wrists. Her hands go straight to my back. The sharp edges of her nails cut into my flesh, making me hiss from the sting. “How bad do you want it?”

  “I. Need. To. Come.” She reaches between us for my erection. Her eyes squeeze shut. Lacy black lashes f
an over her cheeks. “Please.”

  Under different circumstances, I’d draw out her pleas, make her scream for mercy, but not today. Not with my bodyguards waiting outside the apartment door. Instead, I shove two fingers deep inside her, searching for the secret place I know will drive her mad. She bucks and cries out, letting me know I’ve succeeded. Her walls clamp down on my hand. The rhythmic pulse of her pussy is almost as satisfying as the promise of my own waiting orgasm. “That’s right. You have my permission to come, Everly. Open your eyes. Let go.”

  Her eyelids flutter open. A dozen emotions flash through her crystal-clear irises. Sadness, anger, impatience, need. How I’d love to explore those feelings, especially the glint of rebellion. My greatest accomplishment would be to tame that side of her.

  I fumble for the condom and sheath myself before driving balls-deep inside her. She’s relaxed and sated, still riding the waves of post-orgasmic bliss. My abrupt intrusion brings a cry of renewed desire from her pouty mouth. The wet heat of her pussy almost drives me to come. I withdraw to the tip before shoving back in. Lord have mercy, she’s a schoolboy’s wet dream with her vibrant hair spilling over the white pillowcase and her perfect tits bouncing. Three slamming thrusts later, I slap her thigh. “On your hands and knees, lovely. Ass in the air. I want to ride you from behind.”

  She rolls to all fours. I smooth a reverent hand over the roundness of her bottom and kneel between her legs. “Give it all to me. Hard.” She blinks at me over her shoulder. My cock pulses at the sight. When I don’t move fast enough, she rubs her ass against my groin. “You’re killing me.”

  “Careful what you wish for.” With a groan, I pick up a brutal rhythm. The sound of our smacking thighs fills the room. I grab her hips for leverage and pound her like a madman. The bedsprings creak. She braces a hand against the headboard. By this time, we’re both grunting and cursing like a couple of porn stars.

  “Don’t stop.” She bucks, meeting each of my thrusts with an equal shove of her own. “Your cock is amazing.” The headboard bangs against the wall, and I’m close. So fucking close. “Yes. Fuck me harder.”

  Her dirty mouth sends me over the edge. I grind into her, going deeper and deeper until I can’t think of anything but her cries as she comes on me. My chest threatens to explode from my racing heart. Release rushes through my veins, heady and sweet. We rock together, milking the pleasure until there’s nothing left. She collapses onto her stomach. I roll to one side.

  “Unbelievable,” I mutter. My pants are bunched around my knees, the condom still on my dick. I remove it, tie it off, and shove it in my pants pocket. A guy can’t be too careful these days—I’m not leaving my sperm behind for any woman.

  “Now I know what it means to be royally fucked,” she says and chuckles.

  “Tell me. How does it feel?” I laugh too for the first time in weeks.

  “Pretty damn good.” She stretches lazily, making her breasts jiggle. The satisfaction on her face is its own reward.

  Across the room, my phone rings from inside my jacket pocket. The sound is an unsubtle reminder that reality lurks outside these four apartment walls. “Pardon me.” I hoist my trousers and grab the phone. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  “Sure.” She heads to the bathroom to clean up, not bothering to cover herself. I can’t take my eyes off the sway of her ass or her long, long legs. Her auburn hair tumbles down her back, knotted from our fucking.

  “What is it, Shasta? This had better be important.” I take care of business and end the call as Everly returns. In a matter of minutes, she’s gone from sexy temptress to classy beauty. “You look amazing.” She’s wearing a clingy wrap dress that accentuates her curves. My cock hardens in a show of his appreciation, ready for another round.

  “Thank you.”

  “I have to go, but I want to continue this conversation later.” While she watches, I shrug into my shirt, button up the front, and thread the cufflinks through the holes of my sleeves.

  “No worries. I’ve got things to do.” She grabs my jacket from the chair and tosses it at me. Her abrupt dismissal shocks more than it stings. No woman has ever ousted me from her bedroom. Another first. The surprise must show on my face, because she clears her throat. “I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just that we both know this isn’t going anywhere.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way. I want to see more of you.” My mind is made up. I step forward, pull her hand into mine. The contact ignites tiny explosions up my arm. “I’ll call you later.” I don’t have time for relationships or dating, but I’ll make time for her. “We’ll have dinner. I’ll take you somewhere nice. Anywhere you like. Or maybe a long weekend in Spain? I have a villa on the coast.”

  “No.” She backs away, shaking that thick, red mane like a lioness, and pulls her hand from my grasp. “Like I said, I’m done with men.”

  No one denies me, but I respect her for trying. Her rejection makes her even more desirable. I might’ve been able to walk away before, but now—now, I’ve got to have her, if only to prove to myself that I can.

  “Can I drop you somewhere then? I’m heading uptown.” It’s the only excuse I can think of to keep her in my company.

  Twenty minutes later, the driver parks outside the entrance of Roman’s skyscraper. “I’ll just be a minute,” Everly says through the opened door. “I’m not even sure Rourke is here. Are you sure you want to wait?”

  “Go on. We’ll wait,” I reply. I’m not letting her go quite yet.

  I watch her walk toward the door. The breeze toys with the hem of her dress, plastering the material to her ass and thighs and whips her hair across her face. She pauses on the sidewalk to gaze up to the top floor before pushing through the entrance. I have no idea what she’s doing here, and I’m curious.

  I’m still staring after her when Shasta knocks on the opposite window. She slides into the car on the seat across from me. The bun has come loose from the nape of her neck, and a flush of exertion brightens her cheeks. “I had to take an Uber, the subway, and walk two blocks to meet you here. Tell me why again?” she asks, breathless.

  “Because I asked,” I reply, unbothered by her irritation. She’s paid handsomely for the inconvenience.

  “Right.” With a sigh, she withdraws a folder from her briefcase then takes a second to repair her frazzled hair.

  “Did you bring the contracts?”

  “Yes. They’re all here. Ready for your signature and Ms. McElroy’s. She just needs to sign all three copies. Once we have her consent, we can work out the logistics of trans-Atlantic commutes, accommodations, and scheduling conflicts.” She rests an envelope on the seat next to me. “Do you want to look them over?”

  “No.” We’ve been through this drill with other women a half dozen times. Before I can begin a serious sexual relationship, she has to sign forms of consent and non-disclosure.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s just—I’m sure she’s a lovely girl, but don’t you think her situation is kind of complicated?”

  “I know what I’m doing, Shasta.”

  “You’ve already slept with her, haven’t you, sir?” Shasta’s face contorts into a frown. “You make it very difficult to do my job sometimes.”

  “Your job is assisting me, not the other way around.” Bickering with her is one of my favorite pastimes. I try not to grin at her irritation, knowing it will pass within minutes.

  “Do I need to remind you what happened with Marcella?” The intensity of her glare sears into me. Maybe I underestimated her feelings on this subject.

  “No. I remember.” The drain on my bank account still stings. Marcella had been an enthusiastic one-night stand. I’d been young and foolish back then and disregarded the advice of my lawyers to get the proper paperwork before engaging in sex. Within twenty-four hours of the encounter, photos of Marcella tied to my bed landed on my father’s desk. Needless to say, the King of Androvia was less than pleased. It
had taken a seven-figure payoff and a host of threats to silence her. “I’m not twenty years old anymore. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “Have you, sir?”

  “Yes.” The snap in my voice carries a hint of anger. “Everly isn’t Marcella. She would never go to the press. I’ve only known her a few days, but I trust her. There’s so much more to her than you know.” Shasta opens her mouth to speak. I silence her with an upraised hand. “End of discussion, Shasta.”

  “Don’t forget your conference call is in thirty minutes, sir. I’ll see you back at the hotel.” Without another word, she exits the car.

  I drag a hand over my eyes. Am I making a mistake? Maybe Shasta is right. I don’t know much about Everly, her background, or her character. What I do know is that she’s the best damn shag I’ve had in years—possibly ever. And it’s not like we’re getting married. This is a temporary arrangement.

  “She’s coming, sir.” The driver speaks to me through the intercom. I straighten my tie and place the folder on my lap. He jumps out of the car to open the door for her. I can tell by the pinch of her mouth that things didn’t go well.

  “Is everything okay?” I want to gather her in my arms, but the warning in her expression gives me pause.

  “No. Everything is not okay.” With a huff, she settles back in the seat. Large black sunglasses hide her eyes, making it difficult to read her thoughts.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  The car eases away from the curb and into traffic. The length of a city block passes before she answers. “Roman has been arrested. Did you know that?”

  “No. I wasn’t aware.” On an average day, Shasta scans the headlines and briefs me on pertinent news. I rarely watch television. “What’s the charge?” My heart races. If word of our alliance reaches the public, the fate of our two countries hangs in the balance.

  “Murder.” She says the word with nonchalance, like she’s talking about baseball or the lunch menu. Her voice is calm. The Manhattan cityscape flashes past the car window. She stares at the tall buildings, the busy sidewalks, and crowded pedestrians. “My father had an affair with Lavender Cunningham. I saw him with her the night she died. He should be the suspect, not Roman.”