The Proposal Problem: A Billionaire Royal Hangover Romance

by Natalie Knight

  "Did you see my win, baby?" he asks.

  "You did so well. I'm proud of you," I say to him with a huge smile that I just can’t fight.

  And then, right in front of everyone, he pulls me in for a deep and passionate kiss. There's a collective gasp from the audience. Braden's never been one to make his affections known, not like this, and yet here he is, singling me out.

  I feel joy and excitement reverberating throughout my body. I feel proud that I’m chosen by Braden. I wish, like I have so many times before, that this could become something real.

  The feel of his hands around my body makes me quiver with lust. And that ever-present ache in the pit of my belly is there, telling me I have strong feelings for this man.

  I know I'm falling for him, even though I'm conflicted about the blackmail. I desperately want a happy ending, but a part of me is so worried as to how this will shake out. What if Braden finds out I even talked to the FBI?

  He takes me by the hand and leads me away from the crowd. They’re likely all going to attend the gala. He and I sneak off, however, to a random, casual little diner.

  It's quintessential NYC and the perfect spot for us. I don't feel like being anywhere fancy or anywhere that would have me focus on anything other than Braden.

  We order coffee and begin to just talk. I’ve figured that when you can talk to a man about anything, that's a good sign. It confirms the fact that things between you are more than just surface-level attraction.

  "Don't you want to eat something, Braden? After that kind of a race, I would think your body needs fuel," I say to him.

  "She's right," he says to the waitress. "I better order an omelette and a side of bacon. Anything for you, Jenna?"

  I shake my head. "I'm good with coffee, thanks." Then I turn towards Braden and say, "I didn't just finish a legendary race like you."

  The smile on his face tells me everything I need to know. He's still amped up on the adrenaline of having mastered such a car at such high speeds.

  "Yes, that win was epic. I wish you could've been in there with me. You would've loved the pace. I was flying, Jenna, just fucking flying."

  He's smiling, and his enthusiasm is infectious.

  "I wish I could've been in there with you, too. Maybe we can take the car out sometime?"

  He must know I'm dying to get into his car. I want to see all the technology and mechanics within. It's his secret place, a well-guarded secret that he and his team have held close for ages.

  And honestly, the biggest part of me wants to crack that code just for my own knowledge. I want to see how he's done it. Never mind the FBI.

  He looks at me like he's excited, but also like he’s waiting for something, like he wants me to tell him something, like he's expecting more. What it is, I don't know.

  "Your engine did okay though, Jenna, you should be proud," he says.

  Internally, I'm thinking that I know I should be proud I didn't use jet engine technology to win the race. But of course, I don't say this to him.

  In fact, he's the one to bring it up. "You know, there's another technology you can use in your engine, like jet engines and afterburner mechanics."

  I'm surprised and stunned that he's saying these words. He just placed his secret on the table. Of course, he's not admitting he uses it, but the idea is there.

  I remark, "Yes, Braden, but that would never work in a car."

  I’m only saying the obvious. I don't know how he got the technology to work for him, but I'm longing to talk about it and have no intention of wavering from the subject.

  He's gazing at me with dark eyes, his stare penetrating as if he’s trying to see into my soul, and I wonder what's on his mind.

  He says, "Yes, it'd definitely be hard to work out. You'd have to get the perfect angle to really get it going. Kind of like other things that require the perfect angle."

  I know he's talking about me now and how he’d like to ravage my body right here and now. Everything with Braden is laced with the sexual innuendos. I find this talk seductive, and I'm getting wet despite trying not to.

  He continues, with his eyes set on me the entire time, "Those afterburner mechanisms, the way they spew out, really puts the regular pressure that's needed for combustion, but if you wanted it in a car, you’d have to angle it, right?"

  I stick to the subject at hand, though, and say, "How could you ever have an afterburner like that in a car? That wouldn't make sense."

  He says in a flirtatious tone, "It would only work because it would have to shoot out the sides to create an even-pressured thrust, hitting just the right spots. Kind of like how you have certain spots that need to be hit, in order for you to...combust."

  My body becomes heated by his words as I imagine him pressing all my right buttons. At this point, he knows my body like a map, even better than he knows every turn on the race track.

  Both our minds are on the same thing. We want to fuck so badly, and yet we're out in public. A conundrum.

  "Just the right spot, you say? That sounds like you might be on to something there, Braden. Maybe you should implement that technology."

  He smiles in a mischievous way and says, "I can figure it out. I know how to find just the right spots and hit them hard until they explode."

  Our verbal foreplay is turning me on so damn much.

  Everything with the FBI flies out the window, and all I can focus on is the thought of Braden's big, thick cock entering me.

  My thoughts have turned away from technology, away from cars―and purely towards the adrenaline of being with him.

  He’s like a drug. And like everything else, I like it hard and fast.

  24

  Braden

  I take her hand and lead her out of the diner onto the slick streets of NYC.

  Nothing could be more romantic. Even for me, a verified playboy, this is getting real.

  A light rain is falling, making the streets sleek and pitch black. The atmosphere mirrors my mood. Every part of me wants to make Jenna come undone, to expose her dark secrets to the light.

  The rain makes me broody, and it makes me want to go fast. Jenna was aching for a ride in my car, and I'm gonna give it to her.

  "We're going in your race car?" she asks tentatively.

  "You've been wanting to go for a ride for a long time, haven't you? Aren't you dying to see my inner workings?" I say.

  The question is a veiled allusion to myself. I know Jenna wants to get to know me, I know she wants the technology for herself, and now I know that she wants the information for the FBI, as well. I don't know what kind of position they put her in to make her feel like she has to keep secrets from me, but my obsession with Jenna is running so deep that I don't even care about her betrayal.

  What she fails to realize is that she can keep nothing from me. I'm all over her. I'm making it my mission to know every facet of her life.

  Her mistake was in thinking that she could hide this FBI secret from me. Of course I would find out. How could I not?

  A dark part of me wants to control Jenna and wants to know where she is at all times. I feel possessive of her, like she's mine forever.

  I open the door for her, and she slides into my race car. She looks damn good sitting in the passenger seat. She's the perfect accessory for my car.

  She's the thing that’s been missing from it—from me, from my whole fucking life.

  I get into the driver’s seat and ask, "Are you ready for this, Jenna? I'm gonna show you speed like you've never seen before."

  With that, I step on the gas and peel out of our spot. I drive her around the city, taking corners and alleyways fiercely, furiously.

  I'm an extremely skilled driver, and I definitely know how to handle my own car. It's a pleasure to show her my talent at last, up close and personal.

  "You’re really fucking good, Braden. I know I should be scared, but I'm not. It's all just very exhilarating," she says as she clings to the sides of her seat, the excitement evident in her
voice.

  I know she must be a little scared, despite her pretending otherwise. She can handle a lot, since she's part of this racing world, but not even the bravest of passengers can truly ride with my speed.

  I move my hand from the stick shift over to hers. I un-clutch her fingers from the seat.

  "Are you sure you're not scared?" I ask her.

  She looks me dead in the eyes and mouths the word no. When she does this, all I can compare it to is how her lips would look wrapped around the width of my cock.

  I stare her in the eyes instead of watching the road, but she doesn't flinch. This girl has a certain amount of daring that I find to be extremely captivating. She’s got me hooked.

  Then she breaks away from my gaze at last and says, "Keep your eyes on the road, Braden. Come on, I don't want to die tonight."

  "Oh, baby, you're not gonna die tonight. I promise you that."

  I shift into high gear with my right hand and then use that same hand to make my way up her tight leather pants. She couldn't have worn a skirt and made my job easy?

  I slide my fingers over the concave lines of her stomach, then lower until I find her sweet spot through those damn pants. She gasps and moans out in pleasure, egging me on as I rub my finger along her pussy.

  Unable to wait any longer, Jenna lifts her pelvis off the seat and slides her pants and panties down. I’m utterly shocked; this girl is something else. I never imagined I would have a drop-dead-gorgeous, half-naked woman sitting in my race car. Another car, yeah, but having her here in my race car has me feeling wild with need.

  When she’s settled back in her seat, I waste no time in getting my fingers inside of her wet cunt.

  Yes, I'm driving with one hand and fingering her with the other. The combination is extremely hot.

  I've never had a woman in my race car before. It's not that I was saving it, necessarily; it's just that I never felt the need to have some girl in my sacred territory.

  That is, until I met Jenna.

  She belongs in here.

  I slide my fingers along her wetness, and she's really gripping the seat now. It's all I can do to keep one hand on the wheel and not expose her tits to the world, too.

  "Oh, Braden, oh my God, fuck, I think I'm gonna come," she says breathily.

  It doesn't take long and that gives me some idea of just how badly she's been yearning for me and for her release.

  A few more swipes of my middle finger along her clit, and I've got her crying out my name. It's music to my ears. It's really the only sound I want to hear as of late.

  "Oh, Braden! God, fuck. Braden, I'm coming so hard."

  Her hips quiver violently, and I feel her sticky cum around my fingers. It makes my cock harder than ever.

  My left hand stays steady on the steering wheel the whole time.

  I pull my fingers out of her pants and up to my mouth where I taste her cum and let it glisten on my lips.

  She's still coming hard in what is likely a series of multiple orgasms. This ride must've been turning her on more than I even thought. Now’s my chance to expose her tits, and I do with my free hand.

  I unbutton her blouse and free her nipples to the hot air inside the car.

  She's got beautiful tits. My eyes aren’t on the road, but on her. Suddenly, the force of my desire is so much that I think I'm gonna have to pull over and fuck her right here. I can't contain myself any longer.

  But before I have a chance to act on my guidance, I see her head coming down on my lap. She unzips my pants with her teeth and exposes my giant cock to the world.

  I wish I could see the hungry expression on her face, but instead I can only sense her craving for me. She starts to suck and tease my cock with her tongue. It takes all my willpower to keep on driving, focusing my eyes on the road.

  I want to force her head down on my full length. I want to make her choke and gag on it. I want it as a kind of punishment for what she did, for betraying me to the FBI.

  This is how twisted things have gotten with Jenna. Instead of being mad at her, I just want to punish her and make her submit to my will.

  In truth, she could do no wrong in my eyes. I don't care how treacherous she is, my obsession with her remains the only thing that keeps me going. She could literally do anything to me, and I won't sway from wanting to possess her.

  In fact, the more out of line she gets, the more I want to put her on the straight and narrow course. The more she misbehaves, the more I get to whip her back into shape.

  I contemplate all of this as she sucks on my cock. Her head is bobbing up and down. I feel her warm, hot breath and lips around me.

  Somehow I'm gonna have to steer this car while I come, and that's not gonna be an easy feat, judging from the intensity of Jenna's blowjob. I can tell she's trying to swallow me whole and it feels fucking amazing.

  "You want that big cock don't you?" I taunt her.

  She moans in pleasure, and I know I'm all she needs. I'm the only man that can satisfy her.

  I think the safest course is to start heading home. I might come on the way, which is dangerous, or I can hold out and find my release when we're parked safely.

  As if she can read my thoughts and decides to make this harder for me, she's starts really going down on me hard. Her lips and her tongue are tight around my cock, and it's all I can do to keep steering the wheel and focus on the road.

  I decide I can handle it, and I grab her hair with one hand and force her up and down on my shaft a few more times before I blow my hot load down her throat.

  I'm still driving the car at an incredibly fast speed. She's going wild for my cum, sucking as much of it down her throat as she can, making the sexiest moaning and slurping and gagging noises I’ve ever heard in my whole goddamn life.

  One thing's for sure, I'm gonna have to fuck her...and soon.

  25

  Jenna

  The headlights of Braden’s car cut through the stormy night like a knife as we roll up to his building. The taste of his cum is still on my tongue. When I lick my lips, they’re salty with his seed.

  His eyes slide over me as we ease down a narrow side-alley separated from the street by an automatic gate. This is the backdoor to the most expensive building in NYC. The private parking of the rich and famous.

  I look down at his lap and see that his cock hasn’t softened at all. If anything, it looks harder than ever.

  My cunt throbs, wet as the pavement outside. My pulse is still racing with the thrill of it all: Braden. His car. The speed, the sound, the slickness of the road beneath us as we leave it behind.

  Braden drives too fast. He takes corners with reckless abandon. The way he drives is a physics lesson in disaster, but as close as he comes sometimes, I’ve never seen him crash.

  He’s dangerously calculating, too hot for his own good and too rich to care.

  “Keep those fucking pants off,” he tells me, running his fingers through his dark, thick hair. The other hand is still wrapped around the wheel, white-knuckled.

  He looks unhinged. Raw and brooding. Bristling with the same energy as the storm outside, wild and untameable.

  He rolls down the window and leans out to key in his pin number for the garage. I lean over across his lap and catch his wrist.

  “Ever had sex in a storm before?”

  Braden leans back, considering it.

  “It’s a cold rain, Jenna.”

  “I never thought the infamous Braden Masterson would be afraid of getting a little wet.”

  With not even half a second of warning, Braden twists his wrist beneath my fingers and captures my throat in his hand.

  “You’re the only one who’s getting wet tonight,” Braden growls. His breath is warm against my lips. His mouth is so close to mine it makes me ache. “That’s your problem, Jenna. You haven’t been paying attention. You still think I give a damn where I fuck you.”

  He rolls the window up, pushes me away and gets out of the car. He doesn’t turn it off. His eng
ine has quieted to a sultry purr. I can feel it vibrating gently through the leather seat beneath me.

  The headlights cast Braden’s shadow up against the garage door as he comes around to my side, wrenching my door open.

  Braden looms over me for a moment as the rain falls down on his broad shoulders. A glistening bead of a raindrop drips down his Roman nose and lands on my thigh.

  “Get out of the car,” he growls.

  I scramble to put one foot at a time outside his race car. Not fast enough. Braden pulls me out of the car and sweeps me off my feet. Like I’m some kind of damsel in distress and he’s my knight in shining armor, here to save me.

  But as he lays me down on the hood of his race car, all I can do is admire his sword. If I’m in distress, it’s only because I want so badly to be his sheath.

  Steam rises off the hot metal beneath me as the chilly rain beats down on it. Braden curls his fingers beneath my pants, gathered around my ankles, and pulls them off me like they’ve done him some kind of wrong. That’s just how he feels about my clothes, I realize. Braden Masterson has a general distaste for anything standing between his touch and my skin.

  The metal is gorgeously warm beneath my bare ass. I can feel the engine thrumming beneath it, powerful and hot. It’s a stark contrast to the torrent of rain pouring down on my skin, soaking my blouse clear through.

  The chilly wetness has turned the fabric of my thin shirt nearly transparent. It clings to my nipples, dark and hard and aching in the cold.

  Braden grabs my ankle, pulling me towards him, and takes one of those nipples between his teeth. I gasp as he sucks on it through the damp linen. His fingers pinch the other one, and I shiver.

  I can’t stop shivering.

  I don’t know whether to blame it on the rain or blame it on him.

  His lips kiss down my skin. It’s turned to gooseflesh, trembling and beaded with rain. Every kiss feels like fire. When he licks me, it’s like being licked by flame.

  Until he comes to my pussy. My hot, throbbing, needy pussy. Then, I can feel the way I’m radiating. The humidity of my wetness mingles with the warmth of his breath for a moment. Then, he’s kissing me there. Making out with my cunt.