No Prince Charming

by Angel Payne

  I stared down at her, aware of nothing else but her breaths, her cries, her sighs. Rain pounded the roof above us. I didn’t care. On a nearby runway, a jet touched down. I didn’t care. Here, now, there was nothing but her glistening beauty, her golden passion, her body’s perfect union with mine.

  “Claire,” I whispered. Now I was the one praying. “Sweet Claire.”

  “Killian. Oh, Killian…”

  I pulled in a quivering breath and let it out on one word to her. “Now?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “I need you. Come inside me. Now.”

  I climaxed with my gaze twined to hers, a tight groan escaping with the gusher that rushed up my flesh and burst deep within her core. At the same time, her pussy clamped me with rigid force, coinciding with the new ferocity on her face. Witnessing her completion a third time spiraled mine even higher, making me wonder if the cum would ever stop. In so many ways, I wished it wouldn’t. I thrust again and again, shuddering as waves of release poured from me.

  Even as the heat subsided, I couldn’t let go of the moment. I bent my head and kissed her with long, lingering plunges, exultant when she returned every pass with equal fervor. Even after I pulled out and tossed the condom, I didn’t let her go. As we lay on our sides, I explored every curve and crevice of her body that I could. My search yielded a heart-shaped freckle on her left shoulder. A tiny childhood scar below her right knee. Even a couple of ticklish spots behind her elbows.

  She watched my every move as if I fascinated her as much as she did me. The idea was preposterous but I reveled in her attention—until her face noticeably tightened. A frown automatically claimed mine in return. I threaded my fingers across her forehead, into her hair. “You still okay?”

  She gave a bashful shrug and dipped her head a little before scooting closer, burrowing against my chest. “Hell yes. Definitely. As in…definitely to the power of wow.” She waited a couple of seconds before adding, “Go ahead. Start preening, Mr. Stone. You have my clearance. Those were officially the three best orgasms of my life, okay?”

  I laughed, though the reaction felt forced. “Just…the orgasms?”

  I sounded like a goddamn girl. She was right; my chest should’ve been puffed like a rooster who’d claimed the golden hen but there I was fishing for performance clarification—

  Needing to know I wasn’t alone in feeling like the axis of my world had just been tipped.

  “No,” she chided, “not just the orgasm.” She raised her head in order to scoot her hands beneath her chin. She grew silent again, making me study the darker lights in her eyes and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just…”

  With my hand still in her hair, I pressed, “Just what?”

  She gave a tentative smile. “Trying to memorize everything,” she murmured. “That’s all.”

  I hitched an elbow beneath my head, trying to appear casual—feeling everything but that. “You make that sound like it’s the last day of camp.”

  She giggled. “What?”

  I didn’t return the mirth. “Sad,” I explained. “You sound sad but resigned to it.”

  She lifted her head a little, to get a better angle for our mingled gazes. The glints in her eyes darkened even more. “I guess I am.”

  Thunderheads stretched across my mind. And the squeeze of anger in my heart? Better it went ignored. Much better. I finally muttered, “Why?”

  “You know why.” Her tone landed somewhere between reproving and terse. My tension rose in proportion, getting thicker as the crew began fueling the plane and loading the galley.

  “Maybe you’d better humor a guy during his last few minutes on American soil.”

  “Don’t get morose.” She sighed against my chest, fidgeting a finger against my right pectoral. As she neared my nipple, I had to fight the craving for her all over again. And the realization that her assertion was right. I was being morose. And resentful. And frustrated that though we’d finally ridden the Colossus roller coaster to its giddy, amazing end, I loathed the thought of climbing off. “Okay, I’m not saying that it wasn’t good or that it wasn’t an amazing experience—”

  “An amazing fuck, you mean.”

  She jerked away, face twisting and shoulders stiffening. I glared back, steeping in self-righteousness that bordered on asshole, but I couldn’t stop myself—couldn’t hold back the angry sarcasm from seeping in. But if she wanted cavalier here, then dammit, she’d get it.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Have I misspoken, Miss Montgomery? Forgive me. You can’t blame me for jumping to the conclusion. You’ve been pretty damn clear about what would be ‘possible’ between the two of us, so—”

  “And you’ve been pretty damn clear that ‘possible’ was acceptable.” She pushed from the bed, swinging her legs out, tempting me all over again with their silken curves. I reached for her hip but she yanked away, heaving to her feet. “You told me you weren’t the prince, Killian. You never promised me a glass slipper or doves in my window, and I was fine with that.” After stepping back into her pajamas, she sat at the foot of the bed with a softer expression. “You also talked about secrets,” she murmured. “Mine and yours. You told me they’d be safe.”

  I readjusted the sheets with a sharp jerk. She didn’t need to know what the sight of her bare chest still did to me. “What’s your point?”

  She curled her fingers around my calf. Lifted her quiet study to my face. “Will our secrets be safe if we continue this?”

  I felt my frown deepening. The answer to her question was plainer than the arrow of arousal that her touch shot up my leg. The contact was a continuation of our connection, its filaments more tenacious with every minute we spent together. The woman had me spellbound. Humbled. Opened. I looked inside and saw parts of my soul that I’d considered vaulted so long ago. With her, they were unshackled.

  Which made me her complete captive.

  I almost let out a laugh. God, what a tangle. My brother’s recklessness had brought Claire to my life but my own could be the fatal tug at the whole house of cards. And the most hilarious catch of it all? I wasn’t sure I cared.

  No. I had to care. The woman, damn her brilliant soul, saw to the essence of that. Insisted on it. Was stronger than I in accepting it, evidenced even now by her determined movements as she buttoned her top back up. I watched her with heated reluctance. Flannel pajamas would forever have a new meaning for me.

  When she was finished, I finally rose, used the facilities, and shoved back into my dress pants. I found a clean black T-shirt in one of the dresser drawers. It was over twelve hours to Beijing, so the dress shirt and tie could wait until later.

  As I expected, Kim had also dressed down for the flight. She was already set up at one of the work tables in the main cabin, dark blue lounge pants topped by a SGC hoodie in the same color. When I emerged from the bedroom with Claire, a sly smirk spread between both her ear buds, which she swiftly yanked out. I responded with a don’t-go-there glare, already guessing the intent of her grin. To my relief, she toned down the snark and plastered on an affable smile instead.

  “Well, hello kids.” She rose and approached Claire. “I don’t think our fearless leader properly introduced us this morning.”

  Claire started a little at Kim’s blatant sarcasm. “Yes,” she murmured. “This morning. Right. That feels like a thousand years ago.”

  “Right?” Kim drawled. “Welcome to the world of Stone Global. I’m Kim, by the way.”

  “I know.” Claire accepted her hand and shook it. “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Xu. I’m Claire.”

  Kim’s smile gained an edge of naughtiness. “Oh, I know.”

  Claire shifted and rubbed at one of her forearms. Though she slanted her head back toward me, her gaze never reached mine. If it had, she would’ve witnessed the daggers I hurled at Kim with my own.

  “On that note,”—I pressed a hand into the small of Claire’s back—“I’m walking you out.”

  She squirmed a little more.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Stone.”

  Mr. Stone?

  “The hell it won’t.” I didn’t try to temper my growl.

  The rain had stopped, but the wind kicked up, whipping her coat tightly around her as I grabbed her hand during our walk to the town car. Alfred stood waiting next to the vehicle, as impervious to the cold as a Buckingham Palace guard. He opened the back door as we approached, and Claire moved toward it with an urgent energy.

  I jerked her back forcefully. Not so fast, little fairy.

  My chest tightened in all the good ways when she moved back into my embrace without resistance. I pulled her face up, inundated with protective fervor when my hands encountered her chilled cheeks. Without thought, I locked my lips to hers—needing to taste her one more time. Needing another long drink of her warm, sweet essence. Longer. Longer…

  Our bodies quivered against each other when we finally pulled apart, our breaths thick clouds in the night air. Behind me, Vaughn ignited the plane. “Fuck,” I gritted.

  “It’s okay.” Claire lifted a brave smile. The corners of her mouth quivered. “Go.”

  “I’ll call.” I hammered my intent into both syllables. My longing. My need for hope.

  Her smile descended. “Don’t,” she rasped.

  So much for hope.

  But she was right about that, too. Didn’t mean I had to be happy about it. And I wasn’t. But wrapping myself back up in my wrath gave me the strength to let her step free. Then, the determination to turn and stomp back to the plane. As my feet climbed the steps, my soul dove in the opposite direction—deep and low—back into the shell of Killian Jamison Stone, a stranger I’d never hated more than in this moment.

  Chapter Twelve

  Claire

  “Mmm?” Nothing answered my sleepy mumble. I opened one eye and tried to see the clock on my phone, only to realize I’d spoken into the wrong end. “Uhhh…he-hello?”

  My other eye popped open, pried by shock. It was one in the morning.

  “Hey, fairy queen.”

  Heart, meet throat.

  Okay, not a total shocker—except that Killian had used that nickname. The precious words that now tumbled all my nerves into my stomach and tripled the pace of my pulse. In ten seconds flat. In the middle of the night. When I wasn’t prepared. Or clothed.

  I bolted up bed and started fumbling with my hair, as if he could see me. “Is something wrong? Why are you calling now? Are you all right? Dammit, did Trey—”

  “He’s fine. I’m fine. I’m sorry I woke you, babe.”

  His dipped into husky registers that gave me the impression he’d just woken up. Even after a week and from nearly seven thousand miles away, the sound gave me wonderful chills. I scraped the hair off my face, firmed my chin, and snapped, “Please don’t call me things like that. We’ve been down this road. So…Trey’s fine. You’re fine. Why are you calling? It’s the middle of the night.”

  “I know. I’ve tried to keep my calls to business hours for you, but…this isn’t business.” His thick exhalation filled the line. “I had a small break, and—”

  When he fell into silence, I huffed again. “And what?”

  “I miss you.”

  My heart didn’t make it to my throat this time. It stayed in my chest to entertain my rib cage with a dozen backflips. “Oh.”

  There was a discernible rustle from his end. When he spoke again, a more intimate murmur took over his tone. “I miss you. I can’t stop thinking about you. I keep wondering what you’re doing. Who you’re doing it with. What you’re wearing.”

  He edged toward humor, making me smile and settle against the pillows. Through the crack in my room’s drapes, the lights of the city beamed, but the glow was meaningless and cold. The only warmth in my world came from a tiny hole in the device in my hand. The awkwardness of our parting at Midway, though only a week ago, seemed a distant memory. The man was so damn hard to stay mad at. Yes, I missed him, too. But letting him in on that tidbit? Not a good idea.

  “So.” His voice was even lower this time. Rougher. “What are you wearing?”

  I groaned then laughed. He stuck with determined silence. “Pajamas, Killian,” I finally stated. “I was sleeping, remember?”

  He cleared his throat. “Your flannel ones?”

  Hell. The seduction in his voice was unmistakable. And irresistible. But I wouldn’t let him get the upper hand this time. “This pair is satin, actually.” I underlined the announcement with flippancy. “Black satin with white piping around the edges. Boring, boring, boring.”

  “Nothing about you is boring, Claire Montgomery.”

  Upper hand, Claire. “Oh, yeah? Well, I’m wearing thick white knee socks under them. How’s that for glamorous?”

  He snorted. “Socks? Why?”

  “Because it’s damn cold here tonight, and—”

  “And what?”

  And you’re not here to turn on that heater you call your body. “I’m a wimpy California girl. There. You got me to say it. Satisfied?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “‘Satisfied’ would mean being there with you, stripping off those socks along with the shit that’s covering them up.” I listened to the rugged sough of his breath, picking out a tinge of melancholy in his tone. My empathy for him was the key to my undoing. Within seconds, the Rewind tab in my mind was punched, taking me to memories that I’d worked so hard to block.

  “You do…strip me…quite well,” I whispered.

  “You inspire me to greatness.” His voice was a whisper, too. “Fuck. Claire—”

  “We should say good-bye.” I nodded to reinforce myself. Like that would be effective. “Aren’t you on your way to something? A meeting? An appointment? A tea ceremony?”

  “Not for hours. I’m in my suite, all alone. Claire—”

  “Yes, Mr. Stone?” I offered it smoothly this time. Urgently. It was easy, given the sinful demand in his tone. Even so, my voice was odd in my ears. I sounded breathless. Needy. I was going to hate myself in the morning for caving like this. I didn’t care.

  “Take your pajamas off. And tell me about it.”

  His graveled tone thrilled me. His commanding words moistened every delicate tissue between my thighs. Nevertheless, I retaliated, “I’ll do no such thing.”

  Or…would I? There were a lot of things I’d never done before Killian came into my life.

  “Do it, sweet girl. For me. No one will know.”

  “More secrets? Isn’t that the last thing we need between us?” I said it as I began unbuttoning my top, though I wasn’t about to tell him that—yet.

  “Please, Claire. Are you sure you don’t want to?”

  “Are you sure your middle name isn’t Persistent?”

  He sent over a growling sigh. “Does it excite you to hear me beg?” I could picture his eyes, dark and determined and anything but begging, as he asked it.

  “You could stand on the corner selling hot dogs and I’d be turned on.”

  His rich, full laugh warmed my heart.

  Brakes. Brakes. Who said anything about bringing your heart into this, girlfriend?

  “So what are you doing now?” he inquired.

  “Just finished unbuttoning my top.” I finished it with a little gasp as his lusty grunt filled the line. As usual, I couldn’t resist him for long. “Now I’ve let it drop open. Your turn, Stone. What’s your next move?”

  “Fuck.”

  “Not exactly possible.”

  “Oh no?” He chuckled again, but the sound was guttural with lust. “Mentally, I’m preparing to fuck you right now, fairy. I’m remembering how it felt to prepare you. How your tight, erect nipples felt in my fingers and in my mouth.” His heavy breaths vibrated across the miles. “Do you remember how responsive your tits were for me, Claire? How your nipples turned hard as stones as I licked and sucked them?”

  “Mmmm.” The sound careened up my throat, high with desperation. “Yes, Killian. I remember.”


  “Touch yourself now and pretend it’s my hands on you.”

  “Ohhhh…”

  “Are you doing it?”

  “Yes,” I rasped. “Oh yes, Killian.” I closed my eyes and slid a hand across my chest, seeking out the nipples that ached for attention. The nubs greeted my touch with rock-hard arousal, poking between my fingers. I tightened my grip, rolling the peaks brutally, reliving the pleasure I felt when Killian pulled at them, stunning me to deeper arousal with the tiny jabs of pain. I sucked in my next breath and forced myself to squeeze harder.

  “You’re pinching your nipples, aren’t you?” he charged.

  “M-maybe. A little.”

  “Or a lot?” He sounded amused, in all the sexiest ways. “It’s all right, fairy. I remember that sound well. It’s stamped in my memory. When I close my eyes, I can see the look on your face, too. Do it again, baby.”

  I obeyed at once. Arousal sparked through me, brighter than all the neon in the city beyond the windows. “Killian…yessss…”

  “I know, baby. I know.” He groaned low once more, capping it off with a sharp hiss of his own.

  “What about you?” Though my room was dark and no one could hear me, I whispered the words. The moment felt exquisitely intimate. “Are you touching yourself, too?”

  “The whole fucking army of this country couldn’t stop me,” he returned. “Claire…you have no idea…every morning I wake up with a hard-on so painful even the shower doesn’t settle me. It’s because I wake up thinking of you.”

  My hand stilled. I dipped my head, rubbing it against my phone like a damn star struck teenager. “Killian…”

  You have to stop saying things like that.

  Don’t ever stop saying things like that.

  “I don’t know what you’re doing to me. I don’t even know if I want to know. It’s some crazy Claire spell…”

  I punched out a little laugh. “Some crazy what?”

  “I just know I never want to wake up from it,” he went on. “I think about you constantly. I hardly think of anything else. I’m stroking myself now, insane from this shit. I’m rock hard…insane to be inside you again. When I finally get there, I’m going to spend hours on you, baby. I’m going to pleasure you in so many ways—”