Impulsive Price

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Impulsive Price Page 2

by Tiffany Squires


  He sits tall in his seat and twists his body to face me. ‘What have you got to be sorry for?’

  I blink back tears and am about to explain that I’ve led him a merry dance when the bar door flings open and three of my security spill inside. Panic seizes me. ‘I’m sorry that I have to take you away from here.’ I grab his hand and tug on his arm but he doesn’t budge. ‘Come, quick!’

  He grins and allows me to lead him through a door marked staff only. Together we run and knock a woman to one side, she hollers after us but we don’t slow. We burst through an emergency exit and tumble into a fenced-off area housing empty beer kegs, broken furniture, and industrial-sized recycling bins. A single intruder light illuminates the space and I scan the perimeter for a way out. There’s a padlocked gate but nowhere else to go. Shit. Voices behind the door tell me I need to hide us both pronto. The last thing I want to do is drag whatever his name is into my own troubles.

  ‘What are you doing?’ He’s perplexed and I can’t say I’m surprised.

  ‘Shush, quickly, back here.’ I grab him by the hand once more and drag him behind the recycling bins where we crouch in the shadows. I’ve hidden us just in time. The intruder light that we’d triggered fades and a second later the emergency exit crashes open. A flashlight scans the yard and a gruff voice announces to somebody else that there’s nothing here to see. I hear the door close again and relief floods my bones. I slump against the damp wall behind us wishing I was tucked up in my five-star hotel suite waiting for tomorrow’s big meeting.

  ‘What the hell was that all about?’ My saviour asks.

  I turn to him, his eyes are glistening in the darkness and I can just about make out a frown on his brow. How on earth am I supposed to explain this?

  Chapter Three

  Brice

  So much for a discreet few hours of freedom. So far I’ve got myself embroiled in a bar fight and now I’m hiding in the shadows from God only knows what or who. The dim glow of a streetlight only highlights the cheekbones and delicate jaw of the girl before me so I can’t quite make out her expression but I really could do with some answers.

  ‘Seriously, what was that? Are you hiding from the police?’ I’m trying to keep my voice level but struggling.

  ‘Not the police, no.’

  At least that’s something. The last thing I need is my mug shot all over the early morning news as somebody wanted in questioning about an absconding criminal. I stand, holding my hand out to assist her to her feet. The nook we’ve squeezed into is narrow so we’re standing just inches apart. Close enough for me to become entranced by her perfume. It’s sweet. Just like her. Sweet enough to cancel out the putrid smells emanating from the bins. ‘If not the police, then who?’

  ‘There are people who want to know where I am, that’s all.’ She inhales, filling her lungs with air, her chest rises with the motion and something in my groin stirs. Honestly, Brice? Erotic thoughts? Back here of all places?

  She nibbles on her lower lip for a second before speaking. ‘Listen, you should go. Leave now and I’ll follow you out in five minutes. It was great to meet you and thank you for what you did for me back there, but now we need to go our separate ways.’

  ‘I can’t do that,’ I grasp at her bicep and she shudders at my touch. The poor thing is scared witless. ‘I can’t leave you here if there are people after you. Leave with me. I’ll protect you.’

  Something I said causes her to flare. ‘I don’t need your help. I’m more than capable of looking after myself.’

  I say nothing. Just cock my head disbelievingly.

  ‘I’m not a child.’ She yanks her arm from my grasp and backs away. ‘What is it with people, thinking I can’t do anything for myself? I’m a grown woman. Not a precious jewel to be locked away.’

  The thing is, she is a precious jewel. And not nearly as brave as she’d like me to think. That much is blatantly obvious. I hold my hands up in self-defence. ‘Fine, you’re big, strong, and independent and don’t need my help. But you have to admit you’re not the type of girl born to hang around dodgy bars and hide behind grimy old bins with strange men.’

  She thrusts her arms across her chest. ‘Who do you think you are? Telling me what type of girl I am? I can be any girl I choose to be. And I can do whatever I please with strange men.’

  ‘Really, whatever you please?’ I mock.

  Something in her demeanour changes. ‘Yes, whatever I want.’ Her voice has changed; It’s adopted a seductive tone, and she’s looking at me through the thick fringe which is still obscuring half her face. It looks naughty. Tempting. And, if I’m not mistaken, I think she may be coming onto me.

  Madeline

  What am I doing? My heart is racing so fast I fear it’ll run out of energy any second, and my palms are perspiring. The thrill of my security team so very nearly catching me cavorting with a stranger without a chaperone by my side has lit a fire in my tummy. I think it could well be an adrenaline rush but having never in my life experienced the rush of being so disobedient I can’t be sure. What I am sure of is this. I want more of it. I feel alive. And I want to keep feeling alive. For the precious few minutes I have left of being this woman.

  Maybe it’s his mocking. Maybe it’s how he’s underestimated me. Or maybe it’s the two Jack Blacks I’ve drunk this evening but I’m overwhelmed with the urge to cast my inhibitions to one side. Just once. Who’ll know? We’re alone. It’s just me, him, and the cover of darkness. I take a step closer to him and wrap the tips of my fingers around his, stroking the curve of his neatly trimmed nails.

  He slits his eyes. ‘I don’t know what it is you think you’re doing, but I’m sure it’s not a good idea.’

  I slip my hand fully into his and he accepts it which tells me that his voice may protest but his body won’t. ‘I think there’s nothing to stop us. It’s just you, me, and the calm after the storm.’

  Although there’s nothing calm about me, not inwardly anyway. I may be putting on a first rate performance of a wanton woman but inside I’m jelly. My stomach is in knots and my brain is whirring at a hundred miles per hour. Half of me wants the man before me to see through my veneer and step away, protect my dignity. The other half is desperate to touch him in ways I know I shouldn’t.

  He gulps, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. I can’t help myself. I tilt my head and kiss him there. Just a soft touch. Barely anything at all really. Just enough to leave him in no doubt about what I have on my mind. His grip on my hand tightens, and he groans softly, the sound vibrates against my lips so I kiss him again. Harder this time. I even flick out my tongue and trail it along his throat. He tastes delicious. Like wicked temptation wrapped up in once in a lifetime opportunity. I don’t just want to sample it. I want the full dish.

  ‘I think it’s a damn fine idea,’ I say and raise my hand to his crotch. I cup the hardness hiding inside the material and squeeze. It’s rock solid. I blink fiercely behind my fringe and lower my face to mask any shock that flashes across it. I don’t want him to witness my naivety. He seems like the type of gentleman who’d back away if he sensed even a hint of discomfort from me and I don’t want to screw up my one opportunity to be as bad as bad gets.

  ‘But I don’t even know your name,’ he argues, placing his a hand on top of mine.

  I swat it away. ‘Unnecessary information.’ I retort before exhaling through pursed lips. I count backward from three inside my head and unbuckle his belt, I flick open the button on his jeans, take the toggle of his zipper between my thumb and forefinger and lower it. I ask myself for the hundredth time what I’m doing but slide my hand inside his jeans regardless. I slip my fingers through the front opening of his boxer shorts and wrap them around the stiff manhood inside. It’s surprisingly soft. He growls and thrusts his hips forward at my touch. Spurring me on.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’ He rasps into the darkness. I love that he doesn’t know who I am. I love that he has no idea who the woman is holding his length in her ha
nd. I love the anonymity.

  ‘The woman who will take your cock, put it in her mouth, and suck it dry.’ The words that tumble from my mouth shock me. I don’t know the woman who said that but I like her. A lot. And it would be a shame to turn her into a liar.

  His length twitches in my hand and I let it go. But only for a second. Just to release it from its restraints, much like I’m being released from mine. He helps me to lower his clothing and his manhood springs free. It takes my breath away. So big and forceful looking. I have no idea what I’m doing but I have to do it now. Before my senses kick in I drop to my knees so my eyes are level with his sword.

  ‘You really need not do this.’ He protests. Ever the gentleman.

  I smile at his gallant protestations before taking a deep breath, wrapping my hand around his shaft, opening my mouth and taking in him in. A tiny drop of saltiness coats my tongue and I swallow it down. He groans, his palm cups the back of my head. Not forcefully. I can stand anytime I like. But I don’t want to. I want to do this thing. Right here in the darkness. Muted sounds of people having a good time permeate through the door. Heightening my awareness that they could catch me on my knees with a stranger's dick in my mouth at any second. The danger should make me flee, but instead it causes my sex to tighten and my knickers to dampen. I take more of him into my mouth. I take as much as I can. And I suck. Drawing more saltiness from him. More growling from him spurs me on. Tells me I’m doing it right. I release him and admire it for a second. The coating of my saliva is making it glisten in the darkness. My hand works on it too. I squeeze and stroke and watch as the skin tautens and stretches under my touch. Gradually I pick up my pace and he swears and curses and thrusts it harder in my hand. Dormant butterflies in my stomach come alive. I’m doing it right. He wants more. My mouth rejoins the party and works in time with my hand. Stroking and sucking, licking and lapping at the head. All in time with his hedonistic thrusts.

  ‘Oh fuck, come away. I’m going to—’

  I have no intention of stopping. The slutty side of me told him she would suck him dry, so that is exactly what I will do. I suck harder. My cheeks and tongue fatigue but I can’t stop. Won’t stop. For the last time he growls. His body jerks. His grip on the back of my head tightens. And my mouth is flooded with tangy fluids. His fluids. I swallow without thinking. Just swallow, and swallow, and swallow until it stops, and he is, as promised, dry.

  The satisfaction I feel is immense. I did that. I really did it.

  ‘Thank you,’ he says as he dresses and I can’t help but laugh at his manners.

  I stand so we’re once more face to face. His eyes are twinkling and I could lose myself in them forever. Disappointment seeps in as reality hits. I’ll never look in them again. He’ll never get the opportunity to return the favour. He dips his chin to kiss me but I duck away. I need for him to back away from me. ‘You really are very polite for a guy who picks girls up in bars for a pastime.’

  My words obviously cut because he flinches. ‘Pastime? What makes you think I’m in the habit of doing this type of thing?’

  I shrug. ‘Just a guess.’

  He reaches for my hand but I step away. ‘Hey, what’s up,’ he says, ‘I said to stop. That you could.’

  I want to shout and scream that I couldn’t have stopped. Because if I’d stopped I’d always be wondering what it’s like to be normal. But then I wonder, is this normal? My lady-in-waiting speaks often of her conquests, but never does she talk about getting on her knees in a crummy back yard.

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ I shrug. ‘Listen. It’s been great. But I’ve got places I need to be. Other dicks to tend to.’ He balks but I can’t look at him. I need to get away from here. To get my head around this whole thing. ‘So, if you don’t mind. Consider that a thank you for getting me out of a spot of bother.’

  Then I walk, on legs weaker than splintered wood, towards the bar. I want to turn around and look at him one last time but I can’t because if I look at him I’ll cry. Cry because I’ll never know if that was normal. Cry for the life I could have had, for the one I’ll never have. Cry in frustration that I’m meeting somebody else tomorrow. And that somebody else will be the somebody who I give my most precious self to. Under proper circumstances. In a proper bed. It’ll all be so proper that I dread it already.

  Chapter Four

  Brice

  I’m fumbling with my cuff links but it’s no use. I can’t get my fingers to function properly. They’re still alive with the sensation of her luxurious hair as I clamped down on the nape of her neck when she took my load and swallowed it all. Her hair was abnormally soft, her lips exquisitely warm, her skin polished to perfection. Even now, fifteen hours later, when I inhale I’m intoxicated with the smell of her. So sweet, a sweetness which should be reserved for angels.

  Was that what she was? An angel? No, she wasn’t an angel. No angel would do what she did to me. Not the blow job, that was sinfully good. The leaving bit. How could she do what she did then up and leave? But then again, why did I let her do what she did then just watch as she sashayed away into the night? I had considered chasing after her. But what then? Scurry her away to the palace turrets where she can live forever as my concubine? There would be no other life for her. She’d never be my wife because my wife-to-be is waiting downstairs. I wonder if the princess would drop to her knees and suck me dry. Keep the memory of last night alive in my mind. Then I hate myself for even thinking it. It’s not fair on her. It’s not her fault they have raised her to act every bit a lady. It’s not her fault that at the eleventh hour I got hungry and bit into some forbidden fruit.

  ‘For fuck’s sake.’ I toss the pathetic cuff onto my freshly made bedsheets. Crisp and clean yet again.

  ‘Oh dear brother,’ Magnus says and my heart sinks. I’d been so lost in thought I didn’t hear him enter. ‘Didn’t quell your frustrations last night then?’ He plucks the cuff from where it landed and takes my wrist in his hand. ‘You should have asked, I could have pointed you toward girls who would have been more than happy to ride your royal totem on what was probably your last night of freedom.’

  ‘Don’t be vulgar,’ I say, adjusting the cuff link he fastened. The family crest glints against my dress shirt as though it was brand new and not a family heirloom. Henley men have worn the jewellery on the day they met their future brides for generations. Just another reminder of the history I have to uphold.

  ‘There’s nothing vulgar about a spot of fully consensual fornication, Brother. Especially if she’s really, really fucking experienced.’

  I glare at him but cannot retort because the door to my private chambers opens and Mother enters. She glides over, cups my face with the palm of her delicate hand, and searches my soul with her eyes. ‘I trust you are rested?’ Concern is etched on her furrowed brow.

  Rested is far from how I feel but I cannot tell her that so instead I lie, ‘Of course.’

  ‘Magnus, can you please leave so I can speak with your brother in private?’

  ‘Very well, Mother.’ He bows his head respectfully before turning on his heels and leaves.

  Mother waits until the door has firmly closed before speaking. ‘Brice, my son. How are you feeling?’

  I blink and consider telling her the truth. That I don’t want to go downstairs and meet the wallflower her and father have lined up for me. But I can’t. How can I? My parents have sacrificed so much for me and my brothers. They’ve sacrificed an awful lot for their country too. ‘I’m fine, Mother,’ I say. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting Princess Madeline. From what I’ve heard she’ll be the perfect match and a perfect queen.’

  She searches my face and her forehead creases. ‘Oh, Son,’ she says. ‘I know you’re lying. I can see it on your face. I can hear it in your voice.’

  I gulp. ‘No, Mother, honestly I—’

  ‘Shush.’ She places her finger over my lips to stem my protestations. ‘Listen to me. Thirty years ago I was where that girl is now and your father was i
n this very room. I felt sick to my stomach and your father, well, I heard rumours that he tried to escape out of the window.’ She smiles at the memory and I smile because I want to do that exact thing right now. ‘Please, believe me, Son. When I say I know what you’re going through. When I say it’s for the best and that you will make it work I know what I’m talking about. Marrying for love, or even worse lust, is a fool’s game. Unfortunately, we are not in the position to play fools.’

  I lick my dry lips. ‘But, Mother. You love Father. Don’t you?’

  Her eyes mist over. ‘Oh yes, with every thread of my being.’

  ‘How long did it take for you to fall in love with him?’

  ‘Why are you being so impatient? You and Princess Madeline have a lifetime to fall in love with one another, and in time, you will. Shared experiences, duties, children. They will all help you form a bond stronger than basal primal urges ever will.’

  I know. And I understand. This is my duty and I can’t afford to be sentimental over this stuff. Mother is probably correct. It’ll take time but it’ll come. It’s the only way.

  I take a deep breath, puff out my chest, and put all thoughts of the mystery woman to the back of my mind. ‘So, how do I look?’

  ‘Good enough for a princess.’

  I thread my arm through the crook of hers. ‘In that case, lead me to Princess Madeline.’

  Madeline

  I was in such bad trouble when I presented myself to the royal hotel suite last night. My disappearance had caused havoc, and they were on the verge of calling in the civilian police when I walked in. Nobody needed to tell me the devastating effect that would have had to today’s meeting; It would have been catastrophic. Mother was crying real ugly tears and Father was livid. He’d hollered so loud his face had turned bright red. Mother was the one who’d eventually talked him down from the ceiling. She convinced him that no real harm had been done and that we should all just get some sleep. He’d wanted to call in the royal doctor to make sure my royal cherry was still intact but thankfully he’d mellowed when I had promised him, on the future of our country, that I was still a virgin and would never, ever do something so reckless.

 

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