His Forbidden Princess (Dirty Royals Book 3)

by Vivian Wood

  I back up until I hit the wall. He just steps forward again, his gaze dropping to my mouth.

  I lick my suddenly dry lips. “What do you mean?”

  He smirks, flashing me a dimple. “Do you think that I want to be here? Hmm? Do you think that I like standing guard while some other man puts his hands all over you?”

  I bite my lower lip, glancing away from him with a shrug. “How should I know?”

  He braces his hand against the wall next to my head, moving so close to me that we are a hair’s breadth apart. Not touching… but almost.

  My heart hammers in my chest. His serious eyes pierce right through me as he licks his perfect lips.

  “I fucking hate it, Nika,” he grates. “I hate that I’m just supposed to sit back and watch while you dance with another guy.” He brings his other hand up, closing me in. And then he leans against me, tormenting me with the press of his body.

  I tilt my head at him. “No one is making you do anything, Erik.”

  He looks down at my skimpy black dress, biting his lip. He traces a fingertip up my arm, touching a few strands of my hair.

  “I think we both know that isn’t true,” he murmurs. He runs those same fingertips across my clavicle and down the line of my cleavage.

  I squirm. “Erik—"

  He interrupts me. “Are you even wearing anything under this dress?”

  I swallow heavily and blush, looking up at him. It takes all the sass I can muster to say, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  His lips twitch. He stares down at me for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. He leans down to my lips, placing the lightest kiss to the very corner of my mouth. He’s playing with me, tormenting me.

  And my response? My whole body aches. My breasts lift and tighten. My clit throbs. My pussy is damp and getting wetter by the second.

  My mouth actually waters and I turn my head, trying to catch his lips with my own. But he’s not interested in that.

  Erik drops to his knees, making my eyes go wide with surprise. He makes eye contact with me as he touches my outer thighs, skimming his hands up the bare skin exposed by my dress. Erik presses a hand against my belly, pushing me back against the wall.

  “Stay still,” he warns me. “Be a good girl.”

  His words, spoken in such a deep and gravelly voice, make me suck in a breath. The anticipation builds as he slides his hands up my thighs.

  He rucks the dress up around my hips, sucking his lower lip in briefly as he looks me dead in the eyes. I am naked before him, my whole entire pussy aching for his touch.

  I’ve never seen anything so erotic in my damned life as seeing this man on his knees before me, bending his head toward my lower body. He raises one of my knees and exposes my most intimate parts to his view. I keep my pussy shaved completely, so I’m bare before his eyes.

  I feel like if he doesn’t touch me soon, I’m going to die. He licks his lips, sending a shiver up my spine.

  God, he’s about to eat my pussy. How long have I dreamed of this moment? I’m torn between closing my eyes and watching his every movement.

  I rake my fingernails through his sandy hair, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Erik places a single, scalding hot kiss to my inner thigh. When he nips the same soft skin, I startle, shifting my body a little.

  His hands tighten on my hips. “I thought I already told you to be still.” He looks up at me, his eyes promising to do dirty things to me. “I won’t tell you again, Nika.”

  I swallow, nodding. “I’ll be good,” I manage.

  He smirks, then hikes my knee over his shoulder. I squirm when he returns his lips to my inner thigh, kissing and gently biting his way toward my shaved pussy.

  Erik splays a big hand out against my mons, gently pulling my pussy lips up and using his fingers to spread me fully. Moisture leaks from my slit. My clit throbs. Every part of me is so sensitive right now. I can feel myself beginning to tremble with need, the delicate muscles of my inner thigh shaking.

  He leans in close and feathers a hot, wet kiss against the hood of my clit. I make a strangled noise, trying to tamp down my response.

  He murmurs against my flesh. “I like hearing you moan for me, princess. Make all the noise you want.”

  He places another kiss just outside my pussy lips. I groan, shifting my weight. He just chuckles and puts another kiss below that, but still not close enough to my clit. I need more; more stimulation, more of his tongue on my clit. My hands run through his short flaxen hair, pressing him closer.

  He continues trailing kisses around my pussy lips, always just outside where I want his mouth to be. I groan, whining a little.

  “Erik,” I whisper. “Please?”

  His fingers trace the edges of my pussy, intensifying the teasing. “Please what?” he says.

  He toys with the entrance to my slit, spreading around the moisture he finds there. Then he feathers a kiss over my clit once more, making my inner muscles clench with need. At the same time, he presses a single thick finger inside my pussy, pulling a hissing sound from my lips.

  It feels so goddamned good.

  I rock my hips against his finger, moaning when he withdraws. But before I can get too upset, he pushes a second finger inside my slit. I throw my head back and moan as he stretches me out.

  Then he takes things up a notch by sealing his lips over my hot, aching clit. He sucks on it and then presses his wet tongue over it, making me cry out when he begins to lick it.

  “Oh god,” I whisper. “Fuck, Erik… that feels so good…”

  He starts moving his fingers in and out of my slit, fingering me as he sucks on my clit. I struggle for breath as I tilt my pelvis against his mouth, moving it back and forth, experimenting with the sensations he’s pulling from me body. A coil tightens somewhere deep inside me; I’m aware of my innermost muscles shaking as I climb some invisible mountain, desperate to reach the peak.

  Erik flexes his fingers inside of me, moving his hand more forcefully. He hits a spot inside of me repeatedly that makes me weak in the knees.

  I make an inarticulate noise, my eyes closing. Clutching at his hair, my nails rake his scalp. I’m no longer fully aware of what is going on.

  My vision tunnels down to what feels good right this second. The press of his mouth against my clit. The movement of his fingers in my slit, stretching me and touching that same spot that makes me gasp out loud every time.

  Erik pulls back. “Come for me, princess. Show me how good I make you feel.”

  His words drive me over the edge of the precipice. My entire body tenses, ready.

  “Erik…” I cry out. “I—"

  I come suddenly, shattering into a million pieces. My pussy clenches around his fingers. My head hits the wall. I spasm wildly, riding an unbelievable wave of sensation. Erik moans, still working his long fingers and his clever tongue until I pull away, too sensitive to be touched.

  I feel wonderful. But I also feel like crying. I keep my eyes closed as my heartbeat thunders in my ears, slowly drifting down.

  Erik kisses my inner thighs, drops my knee from his shoulder, and pulls my dress back down. Then he stands up.

  I open my eyes and put my hands around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. His mouth tastes like me; my eyes fill with tears though I am not sure why. He presses himself against my body, his hardened cock poking me in the belly.

  For a minute he just kisses me, exploring my mouth with his own. I exalt in his touch and his taste, feeling… cherished.

  For just this space in time, we are just Annika and Erik. Not princess and minder. Not rich and poor. There are no divisions between us, no age differences, no expectations.

  But then he pulls away, stepping back. His eyes are full of sorrow and anger. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  I bite my lower lip, stepping close to him again. I reach out and grab at him, pouting. “Why?”

  His expression darkens. He pulls away again, shaking his head. “You know why.”

/>   I draw a breath, cocking my head. “I know, yes. But I don’t care. I want you to take my virginity, Erik.”

  He shakes his head, avoiding my eyes. “No. You don’t know what you want.”

  I step closer. “I think I do. I like you. Erik.”

  “Damn it!” he curses loudly, looking at me. “No. You have no idea what you want or what you like. If you did, you would know that you and I have no future. None.”

  He turns away, fiddling with the lock on the door. I open my mouth to argue with him, but he just throws open the door.

  “Can we just leave?” he asks, sounding angry. “Or do you have to find some more strange men to rub up against?”

  I narrow my eyes. “It worked, didn’t it? You couldn’t stand seeing me touching another man.”

  His jaw clenches. “Annika— “

  I shake my head, pushing past him. “Don’t. If you’re just going to keep telling me all the reasons why we can’t fuck, I don’t want to hear it.”

  He reaches out and catches me in the doorway, his eyes hard on mine. “I wish things were different. You have to know that.”

  I look up at him, at his tortured expression. “Wishing something could be different doesn’t make it so.”

  Then I stalk out of the bathroom, intent on finding Kal and getting out of this club.

  17

  Erik

  I can’t sleep when I get home. I’m too aggravated. By Nika, yes. But even more than that I’m just mad as hell at my circumstances.

  And yeah, later when I stroke my cock, I can feel the heat of her pussy pressed against my eager mouth.

  I know I can’t have her. Not really.

  But the fantasy of being her first, of taking her virginity, is too real… and it feels too good to stop.

  That translates into a sleepless night for me, accompanied by being extremely tense and cranky the following day. I walk around with the shortest of fuses, dreading what is to come…

  Family dinner.

  That’s right. Me, Annika, Stellan, and all the other Løve kids together with the former King and Queen. I make sure that I’m presentable - my tie straightened, my cufflinks buttoned - before I step through the door to the grand dining room.

  I’m the last to arrive, by no coincidence. The room is majestic; high ceilings, plenty of natural light from the windows, a table that can seat forty people comfortably. Tonight, the table is set for eight. Goran, the former King, and Stellan, the current King, are sitting at the far end of the table. Looking as alike as a set of matching bookends, they are deep in conversation. All the men at the table look like photocopies of each other; tall, dark hair, blue eyes, exceedingly rich.

  Everyone except me, of course.

  To my surprise Margot sits beside Stellan, appearing as uncomfortable as possible. Her hair seems less pink than it usually is, her roots growing out.

  I wonder if that’s a sign of her changing style or if she caved to the Queen Mother’s persistent reminders that pink hair is not ladylike.

  I flash her a smile as I approach the table. She pulls a face. Good, I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here.

  Thora, the former Queen, is sitting on her husband’s other side and talking to Annika. Nika is a perfect, elegant reflection of Thora’s stately beauty. But for a second, as she notices my entry into the dining room, she shoots me a glare.

  Then she turns up her nose at me and engages Margot in conversation. The only empty seat is next to Nika, so I slide into the seat left vacant for me. I see Nika’s hand clench the glittery gold skirt of her full-length dress. It’s hard not to stare at her, especially right now when she’s wearing such a provocative dress. Two golden triangles of cloth cover her breasts, connected by a slinky gold chain.

  I can almost see her stiff, puffy nipples through the barely-there garment. Nika wears her risqué dress as though it’s not a big deal. As though there is no one that wants simultaneously to rip that dress off of her and also to cover her up with one of my jackets.

  Maybe I’m the only one that feels that way, but I don’t think so.

  I clear my throat and jerk my gaze away, looking at Lars sitting beside me. Finn is across from me, frowning. Both of the younger brothers look like they want to leave.

  I lean over to Lars. “Am I crazy or is everyone here except Anders?”

  Lars’ lips lift. “No, you’re not crazy. No one really knows where our brother even is. Asking where he is seems to be useless. Even Mor doesn’t remember the last time Anders touched base.”

  I nod, looking around the table. A servant appears over my shoulder. “Would you care for wine, sir?”

  I glance up at him. “No, thank you. Water will be fine.”

  Finn leans across the table. “Are you living a booze-less existence, Erik?”

  I narrow my gaze. “No, Finn. I just have a long day tomorrow. Annika is expected to show at a red carpet event for some fashion charity that she sponsors.” I squint.

  “Erik!” Thora declares. “I didn’t see you sneak in. Are you excited about tomorrow’s red carpet? Annika told me that it’s going to be broadcast on basically every network. You’re going to have to be a good escort.”

  I lift my head, swallowing. The former Queen never paid me much attention at all. Having her spotlight on me now is more than a little uncomfortable.

  “I am,” I bluff. “Although as I was just telling Finn, it’s going to be a very long day.”

  Goran clears his throat, joining our conversation from his seat at the end of the table. “You’re walking Annika down the red carpet tomorrow, I assume?”

  I feel heat creep up my neck. “Actually, no. I wasn’t invited to be in front of the cameras. The reporters aren’t interested in anyone who doesn’t have a title or isn’t already independently famous.”

  Goran lifts a brow. “Is that so? I had no idea that the organizers even cared who walks down the red carpet.”

  Of course he doesn’t. The former king lives in a bubble, surrounded by only the best and the finest things in life. Until he got sick and gave up the crown to Stellan, he was almost always on an expensive, amenity-filled trip to some far-flung locale under the excuse that he was spreading peace.

  Stellan jumps in. “You know, Erik is going to be titled this year.”

  Thora’s eyebrows lift. She looks over to me. “Have we not managed to find you a title already? How thoughtless of us.”

  I look down with a shrug. What am I supposed to say to that, exactly?

  Goran coughs a few times, bringing a meaty fist up to his face. Then he starts wheezing and turning red, sputtering and coughing much more forcefully. In a flash, the focus is on the former King.

  Thora gets up and presses a glass of water into Goran’s hand. Annika stands, her brow drawn down as she watches her father like a hawk.

  “Is there anything that I can get you?” Stellan asks his father, a concerned expression on his face.

  Goran just shakes his head, his coughing beginning to subside. “No.”

  He takes a sip of water. Thora rubs his shoulder, looking worried.

  “It would help if your father’s doctors would settle on a diagnosis. We’ve been told that he might have multiple sclerosis or ALS… but other doctors are sure it’s early onset Alzheimer’s disease…”

  I sneak a glance at Nika. She sinks back into her seat, her fists balled up like she’s ready to fight someone. Her expression is unreadable, but I have the sense that just beneath the surface lies an endless well of sadness and rage.

  Before I even realize what I’m doing, I reach out a steadying hand to cover one of her fists. Her eyes go wide as she turns her innocent gaze on me. She jerks away from my touch, her gaze sliding across the table to Stellan and Margot.

  “Don’t,” she whispers, so quietly that I almost don’t hear it.

  I quickly withdraw my touch, my neck heating with embarrassment. My hand burns and I clench my fist.

  What was I thinking, touching her
here? It’s almost like I want to get caught.

  I clear my throat and look across the table. Luckily Stellan is still talking to his father. Margot meets my gaze head on though, arching a brow. She doesn’t say anything, but her gaze slips back and forth between me and Annika.

  I can only guess at the conclusions she’s drawing.

  Lars looks around. “If dar is going to be all right, can we eat? I’m starving.”

  Finn pushes his wineglass away and glances toward the doorway. “I smell meat.”

  As soon as he says it, servants come into the room with still-sizzling lamb shanks hot from the grill, brabant potatoes, and a cool selection of shaved brussels sprouts with slivered almonds and pecorino romano cheese. Plates are placed in front of each of us, the food artfully arranged.

  I didn’t even realize that I was hungry until I smelled that lamb shank. Thora reclaims her seat, and everyone digs in. The brabant potatoes and the lamb melt on my tongue. I forget sometimes that Goran and Thora have one of the world’s best chefs at their disposal. The rest of the palace is served amazing food, but this… this reminds me that even within the palace walls, there are different classes.

  Thora glances at Annika in between bites of food. “Annika, how are things in your world? When did you get back from boarding school? I’m afraid I’m sort of out of the loop when it comes to knowing the day to day. It’s been impossible to keep up with the world while my husband has felt ill.”

  Around the table, all of Thora’s children raise their brows. No one dares to tell Thora that her lack of parental guidance didn’t start when Goran feel ill. For most of my life, I’ve watched Stellan and his siblings struggle with having two parents that were rarely at home with their children.

  It’s understandable to some degree… but also sort of laughable for Thora to even say something so out of touch with reality.

  Annika clears her throat and raises her fork, gesturing with it. “I’ve been back for the better part of a year, mor. And…” A muscle flexes in her jaw. “I’m feeling very smothered by being a royal at this moment in time.”