by Piper Rayne
“What?” Her head jerks back.
“I like you, Sierra Sanders, and I want you to be my responsibility. Not in some caveman alpha male way. But I want the responsibility of making your day a little brighter, making you laugh on the bad days and holding you on the horrible ones. I want the responsibility of feeding you when you’re sick and planning celebrations for milestones in our lives. I want to be responsible for making you smile, laugh, feel safe, feel secure, and of course, I want the sole responsibility for your orgasms.”
She laughs, and her head falls to my chest. “But there’s so much against this, against us.”
I place my finger on her chin and bring it up so she’s looking at me, as I have so many times before, but my heart grips tight, waiting for her response more than any other time before. “We’ll figure it out but answer this question. Do you like me?”
I’ve never in my life asked a woman that question. Not even when I was in middle school. Nor have I ever held my breath, waiting for the answer.
Her smile is promising, but I want the words. “But…”
I put my finger over her lips. “It’s a yes or no question.”
Her eyes lock with mine and my answer is there before she verbalizes it. “Yes.”
My hand runs up her back until my fingers are weaved through her vibrant hair, and I lean down, pressing my lips to hers. A kiss has never been such a perfect mix of sweet and hot.
Chapter Nineteen
Sierra
* * *
Adrian’s lips meet mine and our kiss is a stark difference from the first time weeks ago, when he stole my breath with a kiss. Then it was filled with lust and urgency. This time, his lips almost skim over mine at first, as if he wants to double-check that I’m in this.
And I am.
All the worries of how we’ll make this work still scare me, but the feeling of waking up in his arms this morning and his overwhelming concern for my well-being have me answering yes.
The scariest part is that my feelings for him transcend way beyond what drew me to him in the first place. The fact that he’s a prince doesn’t matter. In reality, it only makes things between us more difficult.
His tongue slowly licks the seam of my lips and I open my mouth, my hands reaching up around his neck, running over the now-short hairs. I’m half able to realize we’re moving, but it isn’t until the backs of my legs hit the bed that I recognize that he’s moved us over to the bed. He lowers my body down, his lips leaving mine briefly until he slides his body on mine. His lips find mine once more and our hands run over each other’s clothes.
My head spins. This is really happening. Adrian and me.
I let all the worries of tomorrow drift away so I can be present in this moment. Him and me basking in the wondrous state of electric attraction that runs between us.
“I’ve never wanted anyone more,” he whispers, his thigh sliding between my legs.
I lose myself for a moment, the sensation of his weight on me overwhelming my body. When I open my legs, his hips fall between them and his arms fall down on each side of my head, lips crashing to lips. He grinds into my center and I raise my legs, not wanting the feeling to stop. I grip him to my body, and we dry hump until I can’t take it any longer.
“I need to feel you,” I whisper and nibble on his earlobe.
He sits up, resting his ass on his heels, and strips off his shirt, revealing his defined chest. His hands slide up to help me remove my own clothes.
After a few awkward positions of stripping off jeans and socks and underwear, we’re naked with our mouths attached again. The tip of his dick breaches my center while his lips cast kisses down my neck.
“Shit. Condom,” I say.
He rips his lips from mine, gets up from the bed, and the look he gives me says we’re screwed.
I close my eyes. “You didn’t refill your wallet after our first night together?”
“Give me a break, who would think I was going to sleep with my win-a-date girl, and believe it or not, my intentions of walking the Brooklyn Bridge last night did not include this.”
“Can you please never call me the win-a-date girl again?” I sit up and stare down the hall. “There’s only one option.”
He follows my line of vision. “Tell me you have some in your purse downstairs.”
“Nope.” We used those ones too. His fingers push through his hair, and I fall to my knees in front of him. “We could do other things then.” I hold him at the base of his dick, licking up his length until my mouth covers the tip of him.
When I look up at him, his vision is locked on me and his hand grips the headboard of my bed. I’ve never had a guy in my childhood bedroom before, and I never thought I would at twenty-seven years old.
He groans and his free hand moves to the back of my head, but instead of pushing me onto him, he guides me to stop and motions for me to stand. “As much as I love that, I need to be inside you. I want to see your face when I push inside you.”
I swallow and nod. “Side table, second drawer, my dad’s bedroom.”
He cocks his head at me.
“It’s not what you think. He’s a military man and a creature of habit. They were there when I was younger. I took one and tried to blow it up. I doubt he moved them.”
“Blew it up?”
I put my hands on his shoulders and turn him around, smacking his ass. “Get moving. I’ll be here, naked and waiting.”
He walks down the hall, looking around as if my dad’s going to pop out from somewhere. According to the itinerary I found, he’s not due home until next week.
A few minutes later, Adrian returns holding a row of condoms as if they’re a first place trophy for a soapbox derby and he’s eight years old.
“Aren’t you hopeful,” I say.
“No, I’m just confident in my stamina.” He takes no time tearing off one and placing the rest of them on the nightstand by my bed. But he doesn’t slide it on right away. “Now let me get back to seducing you.”
“I won’t complain about that.”
His lips move along my skin and his breath teases the wetness left behind by his tongue. The way his fingertips skim along my skin, running around my back and gliding down to my ass, has me moaning. His large palms grip my ass and pull me against his very hard dick.
“I need you now,” I pant, stripping my lips off his only for his mouth to travel to the side of my neck.
He gets up on his knees. “I had all these plans.”
“Next time.” I grab the condom out of his hand and tear it open, pulling out the latex.
“Nope. You are not taking charge… at least not this time around.” He pinches the tip and rolls it down his length. “Lie down, babe.”
My back falls on the lumpy old mattress and he positions himself at my center, holding the base of his shaft. Just as he said earlier, his eyes are steady on mine as he slowly slides into me inch by inch. Once I’m completely filled with him, he lowers his body and captures my lips in a kiss that holds so much intensity, I never want to leave this bed, or him.
The torturously slow grinding of his dick moving in and out of me accompanies his tongue teasing my lips. I hold the back of his head and my other hand grips his hard bicep.
Unable to handle much more teasing, he falls down on me, his rhythm growing faster and faster. Our bodies collide and shift against one another’s. Moans, whimpers, and groans bounce against the walls of my childhood bedroom.
“I’m so close,” I say.
He speeds up until the pressure of my orgasm builds like a brick wall—layer by layer—until the weight of keeping it back is too much and I let go. Pure glory spreads through my body, lighting up every nerve ending. My eyes drift closed, but Adrian drills harder into me and I clench my thighs tighter until he stills and grunts, pumping into me as his orgasm swells over him.
The fear sets in as we catch our breath, lying limp in my bed. What does the future bring now? Will one orgasm really change his mind, or will he leav
e me behind anyway? Although I hate myself for thinking it or doubting him, I can’t help it.
As if he’s worried too, he gets up on his elbows and his eyes search mine for some sign of whatever I’m looking for in his. “We’re good?” He places a chaste kiss on my lips.
“We’re good,” I say.
“I’ll be right back.” He slides out of me, holding the base of the condom, and stands.
As he cleans himself up in the bathroom, I realize that I miss him already. Although that feeling scares the crap out of me, I stay rooted in place.
Until the front door downstairs opens.
Obviously, one of the things my dad didn’t fix is the squeak that door has made since I was sixteen. He said it was his way to ensure I didn’t sneak out in the middle of the night. I refrained from saying that there are windows and a back door, and he usually wasn’t in any shape to hear a squeak.
“They’ll get that squeak handled. So it’s a three-bedroom with two and a half baths,” a woman says.
Adrian comes out of the hallway completely naked and freezes when he hears little footsteps coming up the stairs.
Oh shit, they have kids with them.
“Don’t touch anything, Caleb!” the mom screams.
Adrian looks as if he’s seen a ghost, but he can’t move fast enough to get into my room and shut the door. I scramble out of bed and toss him his pants while shuffling around to grab my clothes.
The kid pops into the room and screams at the sight of Adrian’s naked ass.
The kid would be lucky to have an ass like Adrian’s when he grows up.
“What the hell?” Adrian whisper-shouts.
Lucky for us, the kid runs back downstairs, giving Adrian and I time to get dressed.
“Hello? Is someone here? Mr. Sanders?” the realtor says, her shoes landing on the hardwood floors.
“It was like a moon!” the kid says to his mom downstairs, and I bite my lip to stop from laughing.
Adrian glares at me.
“Hello. I’m sorry, it’s Sierra Sanders, Greg’s daughter,” I call then pop out the bedroom into the hallway.
The woman stands on the landing. She’s older, with dark hair cut in a stylish bob, but her lack of a smile at this unusual situation says this isn’t going to go smoothly and she’ll probably tell my dad.
Great.
“Oh, I wasn’t aware you were staying here. Your father and Fae told me I could bring anyone around whenever I wanted this week.” She tilts to the side to look behind me at Adrian.
“This is my…” I’m unsure of what word to use.
“Prince Adrian Marx!” The woman gasps and her face lights up.
I glance behind me.
“Yes, ma’am.” He steps up and puts out his hand. I do my best to refrain from thinking that those fingers were rubbing my clit only minutes ago.
She shakes his hand. “What are you doing in Carroll Gardens? Here?”
He chuckles. “Sierra is my girlfriend,” he says with pride that makes my shoulders straighten under his arm.
“Oh.” Her attention turns to me. “Your father said nothing about you dating a prince.”
My mouth opens, but Adrian beats me to it. “It’s hush-hush, for obvious reasons. I haven’t had a chance to tell my parents, so if you could keep it between us, I’d greatly appreciate it.”
The woman is quick to answer. “Of course. I’d never want to ruin such a wonderful surprise.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.” He winks and gives her that prince smile.
“My pleasure.”
Jeez, she’s practically swooning like a schoolgirl.
“If you want to give us a minute, we’ll clean up the room and be out of your hair,” I interrupt her blatant staring at Adrian. I mean, he’s gorgeous and all, but she’s old enough to be his grandmother.
“Yes, that’d be great. Thank you.”
I nod and she heads back down the stairs, leaving us alone.
“I’m your girlfriend, huh?” I ask to his back as Adrian straightens the comforter.
Breaking the distance, he pushes me against my desk. The desk I sat at and daydreamed about whether I’d ever be swept off my feet and thinking that was probably never going to happen to me. I was too crazy, too negative, too cold.
He wraps his arms around my waist and tugs me closer. “Is that a problem?”
I shake my head. “No problem.”
“Good.” He kisses my lips. “So no more friends crap, right?”
“Right.”
He kisses me then releases me, sits on the bed, and puts on his socks. I wait for some crashing cymbal to sound, but it doesn’t come.
Holy crap, my boyfriend is a prince.
Chapter Twenty
Adrian
* * *
In the past week, I haven’t slept in my bed once because I’ve been in Sierra’s. All the friends, including Rian, took it well that we’re a couple now, although I catch Rian staring sometimes. I think she’s apprehensive about my intentions.
When I return from a run, Rian’s in the kitchen. Sierra said she’ll be late due to some water crisis down by the river, which leaves some time for bonding with my other roommate.
“What are you making?”
Rian quirks her eyebrow at me, plugging in a mixer.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m baking Sierra’s birthday cake.”
My stomach drops. “It’s her birthday? I didn’t know.”
She pulls out a stool and climbs it, opening a cabinet.
“Let me help you.”
“Uh, no. It’s my job to bake her cake.”
“Come on. I’d love to learn so next year I can bake her cake.” I sit on the chair and give her my best puppy dog eyes.
“And what will you teach me in return?” she asks.
“I can teach you how to curtsy, or how to speak French, the language of love. Or how to dodge security. Let’s see, what else?”
Rian laughs. “That’s okay. This is for Sierra after all. First thing you should know is that her favorite cake flavor is vanilla.”
“Really? Why did I think it’d be something exotic, like pineapple or something?” I ask, taking the containers of flour and sugar from her arms and placing them on the table.
“Probably because there’s nothing vanilla about her personality. I’m probably more the type of person someone would assume loves vanilla.”
I say nothing because I’m not sure what to say. She kind of does seem like a girl who doesn’t ask for a lot or go after her dreams. Sierra is the type you envision actually taking a bite of this world and claiming it as hers. Rian is the type to chip away for years and then hand whatever she has to someone she feels is more deserving. But now isn’t the time to tell her this, so I stay silent.
“Her all-time favorite is vanilla with vanilla buttercream and a layer of strawberries, but I have no strawberries, so this time—”
“I can go to the store.”
“I can use strawberry flavoring. They aren’t in season right now.”
“This is my first time making a cake for my girlfriend—we’re not half-assing it. Do you need anything else?”
I grab my jacket and wallet while Rian watches me with confusion. “You’re going to the store just for the strawberries that probably aren’t all that good this time of year?”
“Yes, don’t do anything without me.”
She stares blankly. “Okay.”
I shut the door of the apartment. I don’t know why she’s surprised that I want to impress Sierra. I mean, if she likes strawberries, why would I make a cake without them?
I pass the Bagel Place on the way to the grocery store, and I glance in to see who’s working. Evan is there, helping a customer. She catches me looking and waves me in. I don’t really have time, but she’s my employer, so I walk in.
“Adrian!” Her voice is more chipper than normal.
“Hey, Evan.”
A woman comes from the back
and smiles at me. “You’re Adrian?”
“Adrian?” A boy sitting in the corner stares at me. “You’re the employee of the month?” He has a sweet demeanor and it’s clear at first glance that he has Down syndrome.
“Eli!” Evan playfully scolds. “It was going to be a surprise.”
Eli laughs. “Sorry.” He covers his mouth, and Evan shakes her head.
“You cannot keep a secret.”
Eli laughs harder. The exchange between them is sweet and endearing.
“Hi, Adrian, I’m Jenny, Evan’s mother.” I shake her outstretched hand and she looks me over with scrutiny. “You look familiar.”
“Probably because his picture is on the wall.” Evan widens her hands like Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune at a plaque with my picture on it. The one she told me she took the day we were slow so she could morph us with weird filters on her phone. “I know it’s not the best picture, but we wanted it to be a surprise.”
I walk over to the plaque and read the words Employee of the Month under my picture. My insides turn slightly gooey seeing people honor me for something other than being born into the right family. Something I’ve done entirely on my own and earned through my own hard work, not because of my royal heritage.
“Thank you.” I bow my head slightly.
“You deserve it. I mean, it took a little while with the training, but you’ve really picked up your game. I think you make better bagels than me now,” Evan exclaims.
Jenny glances at her daughter with skepticism, probably wondering why Evan’s being overly complimentary. I kind of wonder too. I find myself speechless.
Jenny takes off her apron and disappears into the back, returning with her purse and coat. “It was great to finally meet you. Come on, Eli.”
“Bye, Eli,” Evan says.
“Bye. Congratulations, Adrian,” Eli says and raises his hand.
“Thanks, buddy.” I smack his high-five.
I can’t stop taking glimpses at the plaque, and Evan laughs at me.
“So where are you on your way to?”
“To get strawberries. I’m baking a cake for my girlfriend.”