Kidnapping the Duchess: A Hot Bodyguard with Secret Identity Romance, Racy Royals #1

by Gina L. Maxwell

  “Yeah, baby, don’t worry,” I say around the lump in my throat. “I got you.”

  I sweep her up into my arms and head for the staircase in the back of the loft that leads to its own private exit. “Andrew, meet me at the rear of the building. Raven’s heading back to the nest.”

  Once I have her settled in the back of the luxury sedan with the privacy screen between us and the front, I crack open a bottle of water and help her take a few sips. “That’s it. This should help flush your system faster. How do you feel?”

  “Stupid,” she said, sounding like she was three sheets to the wind. “I can’t go out anymore. Wanna know why? ’Cause I gotta get married, tha’s why.”

  I freeze. “What do you mean ‘get married’? Are you talking about Applebaum?”

  She nods for five full seconds before getting her mouth to catch up. “Yep. He’s g’nna be my Beyoncé.”

  I would’ve laughed at that if I wasn’t still reeling from shock. “Fiancé. Why the hell would he be your fiancé?” Daria sighed and snuggled into my side like a sleepy child—or a roofied duchess—but she couldn’t pass out until I understood what she was talking about. “Baby, come on, tell me about the deal with Applebaum.”

  “Dad promised Mom, so I promised Dad.” Then she told me fragments I managed to piece together about her father’s promise to make sure she was taken care of through a good marriage with a titled noble, and how she couldn’t let him break that promise no matter how she felt “pretty meh” about Cyrus.

  “He’s my best choice ’cause we’ll keep each other’s secrets,” she says, plucking absently at the button on my jacket. “And s’not like he really wants me ’cause I have the wrong parts. So all’s I have to do is give him an heir…or three…and he’ll let me be me, long as no one else knows I’m me.” Daria tilts her face to stare up at me with a well of uncertainty in her blue eyes. “Tha’s not so bad. Right?”

  If I’m interpreting everything right, she’s saying that Cyrus is gay. Which means his family probably wants him to keep up appearances with a wife who can give him heirs to carry on the Applebaum legacy. Either way, it’s an absolute shit deal for her. But I know she doesn’t see any other way around it. She loved her mother fiercely, and she loves her father even more. If their biggest wish for their eldest daughter is to marry into a good family with a secure financial standing, then that’s exactly what she’ll do, regardless of her happiness.

  Holding her tighter against me, I tuck her face against my chest and press a kiss to the top of her raven hair. “Don’t worry about any of that right now. I’m going to get you home and put you to bed. We can talk about it all tomorrow if you want.”

  I doubt she’ll recall having this conversation or even the last hour at the club. She definitely never would’ve told me any of this—especially Applebaum’s secret—if she hadn’t been drugged.

  Now that I have her safe, I allow the rage to rip through me. I failed her. Ashby slipped something into her water, and I fucking missed it. Never again. Running my fingertips up and down her arm, I wonder if I’m doing it to soothe her or myself.

  Sighing, I rest my head back and think about my next steps. In the morning I’ll tell her what happened with Ashby—she needs to know what happened—but if she doesn’t remember our conversation, it’s probably best she thinks her secrets are still in the vault for now. I’ll tell her everything when the time is right.

  In the meantime, I have some plans to make.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Daria

  Cursing Izak to hell and back, I make what’s likely the hundredth lap around my room while I wait for the sleeping pill I took to kick in. I normally don’t need them, but I can’t sleep. I feel like a bottle of champagne, shaken to the point of exploding if I don’t release the pressure. But I haven’t been able to reach a “release” in almost a week.

  It’s been six whole days since “the incident.” Six days since my hard-bodied bodyguard pinned me against the wall in my bedroom and made me wet and told me I wouldn’t be able to satisfy myself now that I’ve known his touch. Six days of defiantly pleasuring myself with every toy I own to prove the cocky bastard wrong.

  Except he’s not. Because I haven’t come—not once—in six...damn...days.

  Every time I manage to work myself up to the pinnacle of pleasure, my orgasms become elusive little devils, dancing just beyond my reach. The more I try, the harder I fail. I even tried seducing him at the club the other night and he denied me. Granted, pouncing on him in public wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done. But I was horny, goddamn it.

  Still, he didn’t have to shoot me down only to say all those dirty things and work me right back up again. I walked away hoping his erection lasted for hours like a painful Viagra side effect. Would’ve served the pompous ass right.

  The following morning, however, I felt bad for thinking it once I found out he’d saved me from that fucking asshole, Aron Ashby. I’m not pressing charges because I don’t want to deal with the media shitstorm. That doesn’t mean I won’t find another way of making him regret messing with me.

  But I’m not nearly as concerned about that as I am with being broken. I’ve never been so sexually frustrated in my entire life, and it’s all Izak’s fault. His stupid domineering prediction has messed with my head like some sort of psychological cockblock—it’s the only logical explanation. It sure as hell isn’t because of his ridiculous claim I can only be satisfied by him now.

  Arrogant prick. Growling in frustration, I start a mental list of all the ways one might castrate a bodyguard and stomp across the room. By the time I swing my door open, I’m breathing fire and prepared to roast—

  Someone grabs me from behind and yanks me back into a solid frame of muscle. Sheer panic slices through me as an arm bands around my waist and a hand claps over my mouth, preventing the scream building in my chest.

  “Shh, it’s okay, it’s me,” the deep voice rumbles at my ear.

  Izak. My heart continues to race as my fear melts into relief…then rage. How dare he scare me like that! I fight his hold and shout every obscene threat I can think up, promising swift retribution. But it comes out as indistinguishable mumbling thanks to his huge paw, and my squirming only serves to make me aware of the thick erection straining his slacks.

  He releases a harsh grunt then pins my body between him and the wall, making it difficult for me to move. “None of that now, your grace. We’re on a bit of a tight schedule, and if you keep rubbing your sweet ass on my cock, I’ll be tempted to do something about it. Then my plan will be shot.”

  I bark out two syllables against his palm that sounds nothing like the “what plan” I meant them to be, but he grasps my meaning all the same.

  “The one where I steal you away from here under the cover of night.” My eyes pop wide at the glimpse I get of a black hood as it passes in front of my face. A second later, my world goes dark. “Welcome to your kidnapping, Duchess.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Izak

  As I watch the duchess stir to life where I’ve tied her to the massive four-poster bed, I have to wonder if I’ve gone too far.

  Typically, kidnapping a member of the royal family is frowned upon. But, desperate times and all that. Edwin’s been putting pressure on Daria to secure her future by hitching her wagon to Applebaum’s, so I need to make my move. This fake abduction is essentially my audition with the duchess. To show her what it can be like between us if she’d just give it a chance. Two days, that’s all I need. Then she can decide who she wants—a husband in name only and an empty bed? Or a man who will guard her with his life by day and worship every inch of her body at night.

  Blinking her eyes open, Daria finally comes to.

  “Morning, sleeping beauty,” I say from the chair across the room where I’ve been watching her since we arrived.

  “What the—” She tugs at the rope restraints on her wrists, realizes she’s only in her bra and panties, then aims a lethal glare
in my direction. “Did you drug me?”

  I throw my hands up. “Hell no, I didn’t drug you. I would never fucking do that, Daria. You fell asleep in the car and I couldn’t wake you up at the airfield. You were seriously out.” Realization flickers in her eyes, confirming what I suspected happened. “You took one of your sleeping pills, didn’t you?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t bloody well have to if I didn’t have you living inside my head!”

  She clamps her lips together and averts her gaze, clearly not intending to give away so much. I steeple my fingers and arch a brow. “It’s not only your pretty head I want to be inside, Duchess. That’s why I’ve brought you here.”

  Daria whips her gaze back to mine. “Where, exactly, is here, Mr. Blackstone? I demand you tell me. And where the hell are my clothes?”

  I chuckle. Even at a serious disadvantage, she thinks she has the upper hand. “A kidnapper never reveals the whereabouts of his hideout, your grace. And don’t worry,” I say, not trying too hard to hide my amusement, “your clothes and other vital things are in here.” I indicate a large black duffel on the floor.

  “You stole my things?”

  “No, I carefully selected only the items you would need, so you’re welcome. I’ve seen your version of packing lightly. You would’ve weighed the damn jet down—”

  “You stole our jet?!”

  My brow arches. “Do you also assume I’ve broken into this cottage?”

  Now it’s her turn to arch a brow. “Well,” she says, “have you?”

  I narrow my eyes and dip my chin just enough to chastise her. “Duchess, I’m starting to be concerned about your assumptions of my honor, or lack thereof.”

  “Says the man who literally kidnapped me.”

  One corner of my mouth kicks up. As much as I crave her submission, I adore this combative side of her just as much. “I can assure you, everything is on the level. The text you sent your family said you’re staying the weekend with a friend for some much-needed privacy and self-reflection. The pilot owed me a favor, and I know the owners of the cottage. Any other concerns, your grace, or can we move on?”

  She flicks her hands up from where her wrists are secured to the headboard. “Do whatever you want, Mr. Blackstone. It’s not as though I have any choice in the matter.”

  “Ah, now we’re on the same page,” I say, flashing her a devious grin.

  “Hardly. My page clearly states that you’ve cut me loose and returned my clothes.”

  “But that would take away all the fun,” I say, anticipation stirring my cock.

  She scoffs. “Fun? I don’t see how any of this—ahh!”

  At the press of a button, Daria’s back bows from the silver bullet vibrating over her clit, giving her a small taste of what’s to come. Then I turn it off with another press to the remote. “Guess you didn’t notice the little number I strapped over your panties,” I quip with a smirk.

  Catching her breath, she starts in on me. “You ass—”

  Again, I cut her off with the small-but-mighty vibe, then slowly ramp up the intensity to the mid-point. Daria writhes on the bed, her moans filtering through the room. Inhaling deeply, I revel in my control over her body. Daria’s meant to be mine. I feel it deep in my bones.

  Giving her a reprieve, I turn the bullet off and approach, careful to stay out of striking distance from her unrestrained feet.

  “Here’s how this weekend’s going to work, Duchess. You’re my prisoner, which means I’ll do what I want with you, when I want it. However, you’re lucky I happen to be one of those rare, considerate kidnappers.” I ignore her dramatic snort and eye-roll. “We’ll use stoplight signals. Green is obvious. If you need me to slow down or check in with you, say yellow. Red makes everything come to an immediate and complete stop. Any questions?”

  “Just one,” she says with a saccharine smile I know better than to believe. “Is it going to crush your fragile male ego when I don’t climax? Take your time considering your answer, but here’s hoping it’s a yes.”

  “Believe me, Duchess, that won’t be a problem.”

  Lunging at me as far as the ropes will allow, she spits her words out like venom. “Yes, it will, because you broke me, Blackstone! You’ve made it impossible for me to have an orgasm no matter how hard I try, and now I’m wound tighter than I don’t even know what, and it’s your fucking fault.”

  With a growl, I pounce, pressing her back onto the mattress with my upper body and wedging my hips between her tight thighs. The knowledge that she hasn’t come even once since I touched her has my cock thickening against my leg. “I didn’t break you, baby, I conditioned you. All it took was a simple suggestion for you to give me control over when you come.

  “But here’s the real kicker,” I continue, rocking my hips to press the bullet over her sensitive clit. I grin against the side of her neck when she gasps and raises her pelvis to meet my motions. “The suggestion wouldn’t have worked if you didn’t want it to, Duchess. This is more than mere attraction. This is a bone-deep need, and I know you feel it every bit as much as I do. Admit it.”

  When she doesn’t immediately answer, I turn the bullet on and dry hump her, working us both into a sweaty, frenzied ball of need. But when I sense her getting close, I cut her off—no vibrations, no movement.

  A feminine snarl rumbles in her chest, her need for release warring with her pride. “Fine, damn you, I admit it! I want you so badly I can’t fucking think straight. Are you satisfied?”

  Blue sparks light up her eyes as she tugs on her restraints and breathes heavily. She’s the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen, fierce and wild at heart. And I’m just the man to tame her.

  “I’ll be satisfied when I’ve made you come at least half a dozen times and you’re begging for me to sink my thick cock inside your virgin cunt.”

  “I’m a royal, Mr. Blackstone. I don’t beg anyone, least of all my bodyguard.”

  A lopsided grin spreads across my face. “That a challenge, Duchess?”

  “Not at all.” Raising a single brow and lifting her chin a notch higher, she pins me with her best regal look. “It’s a double-dog dare.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Daria

  I’ve gone mad.

  That’s the only explanation for why I’m taunting the man who’s kidnapped me and tied me naked to his bed. Or someone’s bed; there’s no way it’s his. My father pays a good wage, but not good enough to afford something like one of Auntie Lisbeth’s summer cottages, which are larger and more lavish than even our dukedom manor.

  As Izak moves around the bedroom, anxious butterflies flutter in the pit of my stomach. I have no idea what he has planned except at any time he could press a button and send waves of vibrations through my achy bundle of nerves. It’s the constant “will he, won’t he” that has me on edge. That, and the fact that he’s worked me up three times already without a release, which by now is enough to make me positively violent.

  He retrieves the black duffel and sets it on the end of the bed. Then, staring into my eyes, he pops each of the buttons on his dress shirt loose. I lick my lips, unable to hide my hunger as he reveals a muscular chest dusted with hair and blocks of abs that trail into the waistband of his pants. It’s my first glimpse of him in anything other than a full suit, and I feel struck dumb. He’s cut like smooth granite.

  Trying to distract myself, I nod at the bag. “What’s all in there?”

  Reaching in, he pulls out a familiar purple Hitachi wand and a paperback.

  “Fan of romance novels, are you?”

  He smiles and walks around the bed to plug in the large massager. “They make for great research tools. Especially when someone takes the time to highlight things that really turn her on. I’ll give you an example.” He tosses his shirt on a nearby chair, then unfastens his belt. “In Once Upon Her Dom, the hero ties his sub to the bed and gives her a lesson in—”

  “Orgasm denial,” I say, stunned. He really did look through my books. M
ore than that, he plans on using that knowledge against me. Or, I suppose, for me. He knows I’d never tell him what I like if he asked, and he made it all too clear that he never guesses. Once he discovered the treasure trove in my bedside drawer, he must’ve thought he hit the jackpot. I’m equally annoyed and excited, which is par for the course when it comes to my feelings for my bodyguard.

  Speaking of body… Izak sheds the rest of his clothes and stands tall next to the bed, naked and proud—and with good reason, I realize, as my gaze falls to where his hand is fisting the massive cock jutting from his groin. Bloody hell, it’s a monster.

  “Eyes up here, Duchess.” I snap out of my stupor to find a wolfish grin on his too-handsome face. “I’ll let you play with it later. Right now, it’s time for your first lesson.”

  Izak sets the Hitachi wand on the bed, then kneels between my legs and hovers over me with his hands braced by my head. As I stare up at him, the butterflies in my belly turn into a murder of crows, flying in erratic patterns until they’re nothing but a flapping, squawking black blur. He brings one hand to palm the side of my face, brushing his thumb over the corner of my mouth.

  “Listen to me,” he commands softly. “I know you’re not a typical virgin with no experiences. But that doesn’t mean you’re ready for everything tonight. Don’t let that stubborn pride of yours get in the way of what you’re comfortable with. You control all of this, Daria. Do you understand?”

  I nod, the commotion in my belly settling a little.

  “What’s your safe word, baby?”

  “Red.”

  A half-smile tilts his lips. “Good girl.”

  I’m surprised at the sense of contentment that washes over me at his praise. It’s so not a normal me thing to feel. But maybe the me who is Izak’s lover is someone I’ve never met before. Maybe he’ll show me a whole new side, one that’s allowed to be vulnerable without fear of repercussions from dropping my armor. I’m almost scared to hope for it, but I’m even more scared of not trying.