Prince With Benefits: A Billionaire Royal Romance

by Nicole Snow

Damn him. God damn him!

  He's beautiful, but he's still a royal asshole.

  I hate that he's enjoying this, watching me come undone. I absolutely, positive loathe that he's making me enjoy it, too – maybe more than he is.

  “You're an asshole, Silas, even when you're sexy,” I say, staring out at the city.

  I've never been so vulnerable before. Anyone with the right angle or a pair of binoculars can look up here and see my naked body against the glass, my hot, desperate breath fogging it up, hiding my face.

  Small consolation. So are having his hands grab my thighs. He digs his fingers into my tender skin, and of course, it heats my blood ten more degrees.

  “And you're going to come for me, love. You're going to come so hard half the city thinks a fucking bomb has detonated up here.”

  He shoves his cock in me.

  There isn't time to protest. No time for comebacks or denials or self-conscious doubts.

  He thrusts about three times, pulling my hips into his, before I'm losing it. My lips form a ring, I lean on the glass, and I'm gone.

  I'm coming. His dick fucks me harder, straight through the clenching, screaming, shaking mess I've become.

  My back arches so hard my spine goes stiff. Silas grabs my hair, twirls it around his fingers, and jerks me close enough to hear him growl.

  That's when the screaming starts. He's fucking me, drilling me deep, pounding me until some wild, wicked instinct I don't understand rips lose.

  I'm not in his palace anymore. I'm in nirvana, spasming and moaning. Slave to his cock for what feels like forever.

  “Fuck,” he growls, thrusting his full length into me and holding it there when I'm coming down from it. “That's the way you'll always come on this dick, love. Every damned orgasm you have is beautiful because I made it, and you'd better believe I'm making more tonight.”

  Shit! He's right. There's no stopping him.

  I don't even want to. My body leans into his, knees still trembling, letting his strong, tall weight steady me. His hold on my hair tightens, pulling me in. Silas bites my shoulder, sinks his teeth in, growling until it vibrates through my entire body.

  We're lost in our sex. I'm not just drowning in those royal blue eyes anymore, but sinking into him, every single inch.

  It's scary. It's insane. It chains me up like I'm losing my mind and releases me again.

  I've been starved for so long. And now, I'm finally allowed to feast, as long as I'm joined to his ridiculously perfect cock.

  When he holds one hand up to my mouth, I bite it, getting him back for the hickeys he's no doubt left around my throat. I know it drives him wild because he fucks me harder.

  Pushing me against the window, he holds me by the throat. Gently, but firmly, he starts fucking harder. Faster. Slamming his hips into mine until I go over the edge at least two more times, crazy to feel him add his heat to mind.

  I don't know if he's stopped to roll on a condom. I'm way past caring.

  Thinking about his seed inside me nearly makes me come again. Silas is panting, holding us both against the glass. I'm glad it's industrial strength, or else we'd have broken through it ten minutes ago.

  Or is it an hour ago? Time has no more meaning, wrecked in our fucking, groaning, screaming affair.

  “Please. Please, Silas,” I pant, hissing the words through my teeth. “I can't keep this up...I can't...”

  Can a person die from too many orgasms? From being fucked too hard? I don't know, but I'm worried I'm about to find out.

  I need a break. Just a few minutes to catch my breath, to let my body settle from its proud, mind blowing storm. My toes will lock if they curl anymore.

  “Can't what? Can't wait to feel me come?” He pauses, letting the new inferno rush through my blood, setting me on fire again, when burning into a new orgasm should be impossible. I think he's going to give me a few seconds rest.

  “Silas...” I moan.

  Then the bastard says it. “Erin, love...I'm coming.”

  It's like I've been trained. My body seizes up and my head snaps backward against his hand, loving how he makes it burn when he pulls, down to the root.

  His cock moves in me like a piston now.

  In and out. Deeper, deeper.

  Stroking, thrusting, slamming into me until his balls swing up, slapping my clit. His free hand reaches down between my legs, pinches my nub, and frigs it until I'm coming apart.

  Coming again. Coming for the King.

  “Fucking hell!” Snarling, he explodes, holding his dick in me as it swells, releasing pure fire.

  Yes, fucking hell. Fucking Silas. Fucking King.

  I don't care that he doesn't officially have the crown. He rules every molecule in my body with an iron first.

  We're coming together, harder than two people should.

  My fingers scratch the glass helplessly. I'm going to need a chiropractor to unfurl my toes, my fingers. I don't know how I'm going to hide the marks he's left on my neck, my shoulders, especially when all but the most formal dresses I've seen in the wardrobe have so much room for skin.

  For the next minute, the longest minute of my life, I don't fucking care.

  Nothing else matters except the Prince and I. The man who's spilling every drop of himself into me, and making me feel it.

  Making my pussy work for its pleasure by wringing his cock until he's spent. His knuckle slows against my clit, little by little, but he won't pull out.

  We're panting, drinking precious oxygen into our lungs, when he finally softens. He slips out with a growl, backing away from me, giving me the space to turn around.

  “I want you on the pill, the patch, or whatever suits you tomorrow,” he says, rolling the condom off his hardness and tying it at the end before he looks at me.

  It should be a relief that he slipped one on without me knowing it. Strangely, it doesn't feel that way.

  “Next time we're fucking after tonight, I want to feel what's mine, skin-on-skin. I'm coming in you, love. Spilling every goddamned drop.”

  Yes. I've been wet all evening, and now I'm even wetter.

  I pinch my legs together to hide it, walking over, and taking his hand. He leads me to his bedroom at last, where yet another huge bed with curtains hanging around the edges waits like something from a fairy tale.

  No, forget the fairy tales. They aren't this dirty.

  Cinderella never let her Prince mount her and deliver too many orgasms to count in front of an entire city.

  This is for real, and I'm his.

  I'm blushing, picturing how we must've looked behind the glass. I sit on the edge of the bed while he pulls a carafe of water from a small silver fridge.

  “You think anybody saw us?” I ask.

  “Sure hope so.”

  I raise an eyebrow and love the coolness against my skin when he pushes a glass of water into my hand. “You've got to be kidding me?”

  “No, love. We both know I don't do jokes. I'm dead serious.” I'm shaking my head, cursing him under my breath again, when he wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. “I was afraid how we'd look in front of the kingdom before, back before the stupid press conference and the riot changed everything.”

  “You? Afraid?” I can't believe it, taking a long, refreshing sip.

  “There was always a risk that nobody would believe us, love. That we'd come off stiff. Unnatural.” His eyes roam my body, telling me something else will be stiff again really soon. “Far as I'm concerned, that's over. All this time getting up close and personal means we're going to make the kingdom believe we're in love.”

  I reach out, resting my hands on his bare, beautiful chest. I want to tell him I'm starting to believe it, too.

  But a man like this doesn't do love. One and done, wasn't that motto in interviews with the playboy blogs? I'm feeling a lot of things, an emotional windstorm that would leave any woman dizzy.

  “It's becoming very natural,” I say cautiously, refusing to let myself believe
anything I know I shouldn't. “What will you do when we're at the altar? That's the kiss we have to get right to make them believe.”

  My gaze drifts up his body, slowly rising from his magnificent cock to his chiseled chin, his magical eyes. The royal eagle sits in his skin, searching, ready to fly out and tear the world apart if he's ever challenged.

  “Obviously,” he says, reaching behind my head and pulling my face closer. “No worries, love. We've got several weeks ahead for practice. How about I train you to come every time you touch my tongue?”

  “Uh, how about you don't!” Laughing, I slap my hands against his chest. “Jesus. You're not joking about the whole kingdom seeing us, are you?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you, Princess? I –”

  Rolling my eyes, I finish it for him. “Yeah, yeah. You never kid. You're the most serious man in the world. I'm so lucky.”

  “Say it like you mean it. Looks like you need to be reminded why.” He takes my hand, guides it down between his legs, and wraps my fingers around his swelling cock. “I don't think enough people saw us tonight. Should've gone out on the balcony, bent you the banister, and let your screams blow into the streets.”

  “You're insane! I'm not doing anything worse than what we've already done.”

  “No? Guess you'll be seeing less of this, then.” He pushes his huge, hard erection through my hand, forcing me to remember how good he feels inside me.

  “No more teasing, Silas.” I let go, drop back on the bed, and spread my legs. “A Prince just takes what he wants, doesn't he?”

  “A Prince takes a lot of things,” he growls, rolling on top of me, holding that angry, irresistible hard-on against my opening.

  Damn! My body aches to tell him I already have an IUD – something I had put in by the college clinic about two years ago, waiting for Mister Perfect. It's been collecting rust until this past week, when I lost my sanity and my virginity to the cocky, hulking, panty ripping rogue between my legs, kissing his way between my breasts.

  “This pussy, love, I'm fucking hooked.” He stops between my legs, pushing his face in, running his tongue between my folds before he pulls up. “Can't wait to pump my seed straight up you when I'm coming like no tomorrow. I want you leaking me for hours. Only improvement possible for this pussy.”

  Royal. Asshole.

  If he's going to keep teasing me, then I'll leave him one more thing to discover. I'm not quite ready to ride bareback with Silas unless he's going to start fucking me properly, without this torture disguised as foreplay.

  Of course, that's an idle threat. I love this torture. Love it so much it's frightening.

  His tongue teases my clit until my legs part. Then he holds my thighs, spreading my legs wider, placing them on his shoulders. The pompous bastard makes me bite my lip while I'm waiting for him to sink in.

  He reaches behind him, producing a condom from fucking nowhere, ripping the foil with his teeth. My eyes betray me, staring as he rolls it onto his huge length, giving his cock one last pump with his fist. It throbs like mad.

  I'm not going to beg, I promise myself. I don't care how good it feels, how much I want you.

  I'm NOT begging, god damn it.

  His eyes narrow, watching me twitch and writhe beneath him. He rubs the tip of his cock against my clit, before he lets me have an inch.

  “No, no more teasing. Silas – please!”

  Fuck me. I give up. My body's begging, so who cares if my mouth does, too?

  “Please what?”

  “I need this. I need you. Please, just fuck me.”

  I need this to be more than just pretend, my racing mind reminds me. I don't dare say that part out loud.

  “Why didn't you say so?” He sinks into me with a smile, and I'm clutching the sheets, desperately bucking my hips against the cock inside me. “Since you asked so nicely, we'll do it your way, love. No more teasing tonight. You'll pay me back later.”

  “Later? What's later?” I ask.

  He answers me with a thrust, preventing me from calling him all the names on the tip of my tongue. “You'll see, Princess. You'll find out very fucking soon.”

  I've had it up to here with his strange, cryptic bullshit. But I'm also too busy having him, every glorious inch, and I can't bring myself to care.

  He fucks me until I'm screaming myself breathless, slipping into the zone. Here, we're alone with our pleasure.

  Our worries, our tensions, they all melt away. There's just Prince Silas Bearington the Royal Fucker and that imperial dick of his, the one that's bringing me off for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.

  Right before I'm about to go over, he grabs me, jerks me onto his lap, and rolls underneath me.

  I'm suddenly on top, and he's moving my hips, pulling my ass up and down in his hands. He wants me to fuck him, to keep the rhythm. Whenever I slow down, he gives me a sharp swat on the butt, like he's breaking in a pet.

  Or another servant.

  Fuck you, I want to say.

  Fuck you and your overgrown, pussy wetting dick.

  Fuck you for making me your wife.

  Fuck you for making me want it, and for wanting more.

  I'm speechless, lost in my thoughts, and about to come.

  Those explosive things I want to tell him? Too fucking bad.

  There are no words when I'm riding him like this, letting his pubic bone grind against my clit. He takes my hips, pulls me against him harder. There's no hope of escaping this leverage, this manic thrusting.

  Silas bears his teeth, tenses up, and I know he's about to come. “Fuck, love. You feel so goddamned good. Come for me again! Come with me.”

  It's not a suggestion. It's a command, and I'm completely helpless, especially when his cock balloons and the heat surges through his condom.

  “Silas!” Coming!

  “Erin! Fuck!”

  We cry out together. Surrendering to the sweat, the sweetness, and the lightning thrashing through our bodies.

  I'm coming so hard on his cock I nearly pass out. Ecstasy blurs to bliss.

  Then he's pulling me to his chest, while I gather my breath. Holding me, kissing me, showing me there's a tenderness behind all the arrogant master crap I'm becoming a sucker for.

  “Seriously, what did you mean by 'paying you back later?'” I ask him again, now that I can actually think straight. “What are you planning?”

  “I don't joke, and I don't ruin promises, Princess. And no, that's not more teasing. I'm a man of my word. I'm –“

  “The most upright, honorable, and fucking ridiculous man in the world.” I stick my tongue out, giving him a perfect opening to kiss me again. He takes it.

  “You forgot biggest dick in there, babe,” he says, stopping my little fist in mid-air when I try to punch him. “You manage to hit me, and there's going to be teasing. A fuck of a lot more.”

  I let go, collapsing against his chest.

  The bastard wins. There's no way I'm going to risk more delicious agony tonight, even if I'm dying to know exactly what the hell he's putting together in his devious head.

  “Look, peach, I've been doing a lot of thinking,” dad says over the phone the next day. “Maybe this is good for you. God knows I've made my mistakes with women. Live and learn, I'd say, like everyone has to. Just as long as you're avoiding your old man's mistakes.”

  I'm standing in the royal gardens, amazed that he's doing this strange about-face on me and Silas. It also worries me.

  This better not be his way of making peace before his health takes a turn for the worse.

  “It's no mistake, daddy. Silas is a wonderful man. He loves me. He cares about me.”

  The last part is becoming more true by the day, at least. Too bad that makes me want to believe the big, bad L-word might not be a total lie we're fabricating to save a crown.

  “I'm sure he does,” dad says grudgingly. “It's your life, Erin. If you want to hang up the journalism plan and become a Princess, who am I to say it
's not the right thing? Jesus, I never thought I'd say those words.”

  That makes me smile. I'm walking over a tiny bridge lined with rocks, cherry blossoms, and little stone statues of frogs and birds. It's very zen, like they had a piece of Japan airlifted halfway around the world to the palace. For all I know, that's what they actually did.

  Dad isn't kidding about the strange absurdity hanging over us. Silas is a Prince – I have to keep reminding myself – part of the blue bloods with so much money nothing is off limits. Ever.

  “Who says I can't do both?” I tell him. “I don't think you have to shut down and disappear as soon as there's a title in front of your name. Silas was just telling me about his cousin the other day, the Duchess of Southshore. You'd know her face if you saw her. She's been partnered up with fitness guys and New Age gurus for years, helping push health, her passion.”

  “Your first responsibility is always going to be to that country,” dad says. “Don't have to tell you things work different in Europe than they do in the States, peach. Marrying that man means taking on a hell of an obligation – maybe one that prevents you from doing a lot of what you want.”

  “I know exactly what I'm getting into,” I snap, forgetting the fact that I barely have a clue. “Well, the wedding's coming up in about a month. I won't be talked out of it. And, daddy, if you're feeling up to traveling, I'd really love to have you there.”

  I shouldn't say it, stifling the tremor in my voice, but I do. It's official. I'm inviting my father to my fake marriage with a man who's little more than a fuck buddy with royal blood. A man who's already said he's going to let go at some point, leaving me with these insane memories, along with more money than I can imagine.

  “You're right. It's not my place to tell you anything. You're a grown woman, and you can do what you want.”

  “Exactly. So, maybe I won't be trotting around the globe interviewing celebrities and Presidents like you, daddy. But someday, I'm going to publish an amazing book.”

  “Yeah, you will.” I can practically hear him smiling over the phone, warming my heart.

  I have to know how he's really doing. This kind of surrender, acceptance, tolerance just isn't like him.

  “How's the treatment, anyway?” I ask. “Have they done more tests since your last round of chemo?”