by Nikki Chase
And that’s why I’m glad we named our son after Heath’s dad, and not mine.
“Heath, can you pick Dave up after work this afternoon? I need to read through my entire manuscript again and meet with my editor to discuss it after that,” I say. “I already asked your mom and dad, but they’re busy today.”
Heath groans as he throws his head back.
“What?” I ask.
Sometimes, Heath doesn’t like it when I treat his parents like free babysitters, although they love doing it. I’m so glad the experimental drug has worked, and now David can bond with his grandson like he's always wanted.
The two of them share something special. I would’ve hated for either one of them to miss out on that experience.
“Come on. I have the music on, the lights dimmed, and the wine poured,” Heath says, looking at me with a mixture of frustration and adoration in his blue eyes. “Got the hint yet, kitten?”
“Heath, I really have to run,” I protest. “Can we do this some other time?”
Heath heaves a deep breath and slowly shakes his head. “When I fell for the hard-working girl with big dreams, I should’ve known she’d be prone to workaholism.”
I scrunch up my nose and narrow my eyes at him. “Workaholism? Is that a real word?”
“No idea,” Heath shrugs. “You’re the writer here.”
“So?” I give him a hopeful look and put my palms together. “Pick Dave up for me?”
“You work too much,” Heath says.
“It’s just because I'm so close to the deadline.”
“There’s always another deadline, kitten. Slow down a little.” Heath smiles. “I know what it feels to be doing well and wanting to slam your foot on the gas. But you can’t go on like this. You’ll burn yourself out.” He pauses and meets my gaze. “And then your books will suffer.”
Damn it. He knows to hit me where it hurts.
“Also, I miss you. You’re always either working or taking care of Dave,” Heath says softly.
Seriously, where did he learn how to talk like that?
Tears sting my eyes. Ever since I had Dave, I’ve been quick to cry, especially when it comes to my family. I know what it feels like to really have a family now, and I can’t go back to the way things were.
And to think I was going to just walk away from Heath and Dave. I shudder to think about how different life would have been if we had stuck to the contract.
“Sometimes, it’s okay to take it easy. It’s okay for things to not be perfect,” Heath says. “Just because you can accomplish more by spending more time on something doesn’t mean that’s the best use of your time.
“A bunch of clients pulled out their investments after the news about us broke out, and it didn’t matter. I was actually pretty happy about that, because I’d been thinking about cutting back on my work hours anyway. I wanted to spend all my time at home.”
“Yeah, because we just had Dave at the time.” My lips curve into a big smile at the memory of those first few months.
We were both so clueless, so scared we were going to do something wrong. This was our baby—literally—and we didn’t want to screw him up.
Luckily, so far Dave has been a perfectly happy, healthy little boy. He has my blond hair and my love of stories; his father’s blue eyes and confidence; and our determination.
I’ve just introduced a sticker reward chart to Dave. The way it works is, he gets a star sticker on a chart we’ve stuck on the fridge for every time he does something good, like picking up his toys or putting on his own clothes. When he collects ten stars, he gets a new book.
But I didn’t anticipate him being this ambitious.
I realized we were in trouble one morning, not long after we started doing the reward chart. As soon as he sat up in bed, he said, “Mommy, can I get an extra star if I brush my own teeth?” So I taught him how to do that himself that day.
And then, the next day, he asked, “Mommy, can I get an extra star if I go potty on my own?” So I taught him that, too.
So far, this sounds like a great way to teach him the value of delayed gratification, right?
Well, soon, like any corrupt crook, he began to offer me gifts to bribe me into giving him more stars. He’s a smooth negotiator like his dad, too. He knows my weaknesses.
He’s actually offered to pose for pictures and create drawings by request—all for those star stickers. It's getting out of hand, mostly because I can’t say “no” to those chicken-scratch drawings.
I know, I’m pathetic. Dave’s book collection is steadily overtaking his bedroom and may start invading other rooms in the apartment like the Lego bricks have. We’ll probably need a dedicated library by next year.
“So you’ll stay?” Heath asks with a small, victorious smile playing on his lips. He knows he’s got me.
I let out a defeated sigh. “Yeah.”
“You know, if you feel like you have too much on your plate, I know where you can cut back.” Heath pauses dramatically. “Just stop talking to Vera.”
“You know I can’t do that,” I say, looking down at my phone to type a message to my editor, asking her to push our meeting back by an hour. “Without my help, that house will fall apart. Bills won’t get paid, perishables won’t get replaced, and it’ll turn into a derelict hut in no time.”
Heath nods. “I can see them, Vera and her son, putting a metal tub in the backyard and using it as both a rainwater tank and a bathtub.”
I burst out laughing. “Yeah. So you see, I can’t just leave them alone,” I say, putting my phone back in my shoulder bag.
“Maybe they’ll learn to manage on their own if you stop helping them out,” Heath says.
“Yeah, I know that sounds like a reasonable solution and everything, but I’d rather wait until Bruce turns eighteen and moves out. I feel bad enough for him as it is. Vera can be… unpleasant.”
“Okay. You decide what to do,” Heath says. “You’re a big girl.”
“Exactly.” I smile.
“So…” Heath gets up from his chair.
I recognize that look on his face as he stalks toward me. It’s the same one he had when I found him reading my manuscript I’d accidentally left behind. It’s hard to believe how much trouble that caused—and how much that moment changed my life.
Standing behind me, he reaches down and cups my breasts with his hands. His lips land on the back of my neck, and I let out a small moan. I’m glad for the jazz in the background; it should help cover any noises we’ll make.
I reach my hand behind me and hook it around Heath’s neck. His skin pulses under my palm. My skin throbs under his lips.
His hand pulls the hem of my skirt up and his fingers eagerly search for my wetness. He finds it, and he drives me to ecstasy.
By the time Heath lifts me up onto his desk and positions himself between my legs, I’m panting and writhing, begging for him to fill me up without any words.
And then, he’s inside me.
This is definitely worth pushing that meeting back.
Unlike Heath, I often work from home, which makes it harder for me to separate my work from my personal life. But if he can manage a multi-billion-dollar company and still have some time for me, I should be able to do the same for him.
I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a man like Heath, but he’s right. Our time is limited, and we need to spend it with family.
I already have everything I’ve ever wanted—a career as a romance author, and a beautiful family. Now there’s nothing left to do but to enjoy it all.
As Heath pumps into me, I wrap my legs around him. My heels are pressed against his ass, pulling him deeper into me. My fingernails drag down his back, and my teeth are on his shoulder.
As we explode together, everything in my world quiets down for a moment, and all that’s left is gratitude. I can’t express just how much joy life brings me. And to think it all started when my boss read my smutty writing.
“I love you,�
�� he says as he leans his hot, sweaty body down and kisses me.
“Love you too,” I respond, just like I always do, every single day.
I’m happy I accepted Heath’s offer four years ago. Even though it should’ve been wrong, it’s turned out to be the right decision.
I may have lost my own challenge to not fall for Heath, but I’ve won everything else because of it. I have no regrets.
Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed Kat and Heath’s story.
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Royal Beast
A Dark Fairy Tale Romance
Prologue
“Sir, I…” My sentence hangs in the air. I know what I want and I want to ask for it, but I can’t bring myself to.
“Tell me, what do you want?” Prince James leans just close enough to let his lips graze lightly against my pussy as he speaks, making me gasp.
“I want you to… finish what you were doing,” I say softly.
“And what was that?” he asks, prolonging my torment. I can almost hear the smirk in his voice.
“You were… You were eating me out, Sir,” I say again, my pussy throbbing, both from the prince’s oral attention and from the cocky, dominating way he’s talking to me right now.
“Good girl,” he says, in the kind of voice that makes me want to please him even more. “But before that, let’s get your punishment over and done with, shall we?”
“Uh, punishment, Sir?”
He picks me up into his arms, making me shriek in surprise. He stands me up on my feet, then he sits on a chair by the big wooden desk, on which lie a few stacks of books.
“Lie across my lap,” he says darkly.
As if hypnotized, I step forward and put my belly across Prince James’ lap. I know what’s coming. I’ve seen it before. I’ve fantasized about it, but I still can’t quite believe it’s actually about to happen now.
“Relax,” the prince says, chuckling. “You’re going to like it.”
Despite his words, my muscles tense as he pulls the hem of my dress up over my waist.
Naked and vulnerable, all I can do is lie here and wait, while the heat from the prince’s lustful gaze sears into my flesh. I can feel his anticipation. The thought of inflicting pain on my body excites him.
I place my fingers on the marble floor to balance myself. The prince’s shadow moves as he raises his hand in the air. I brace myself for the impact.
Smack!
The prince’s palm lands on my ass cheek, making it hot with pain.
I whimper.
Why did I ever think this would feel good?
Maybe I’m not cut out to be a Submissive after all. I should tell the prince I’m not what he thinks I am.
As I part my lips, the prince rubs the part of my ass that’s stinging in pain. His hand feels so gentle and warm.
At his soothing touch, the heat from the pain turns into pleasure that seeps through my skin and spreads throughout my body.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it, sweetheart?” Prince James asks.
“N—no, Sir.”
“You like it, don’t you?”
I remain quiet.
Did I…?
James
I almost can’t believe my eyes.
But there’s no doubt in my mind.
It’s her.
She’s even wearing that same choker around her slender neck, the one that looks a lot like a collar.
I can’t forget a face like that. Or a body like that. The picture I’m looking at doesn’t show any part of her below the neck, but I remember.
“Pretty, aren’t they?” The man asks. Exhaustion is still written all over his face, but he’s beaming with pride.
“Yes, they’re lovely,” I answer, briefly tearing my eyes from the man’s phone that I’m holding in my hands.
I couldn’t care less about the other two girls in the picture. I only have my eyes on her, the one with the big, doe-like eyes the color of café au lait, the one with the wavy honey-brown hair tumbling down her back.
“This is Clara, my oldest,” he says as he points at the girl on the left. “Irina, the middle one—” his index finger moves to the girl in the center, then finally to the girl on the right “—and Rosemary, my youngest daughter.”
Rosemary.
So that’s her name.
It fits her. A name from the old world, classic and elegant. But most importantly of all, that name is just another clue that she belongs to me.
I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I saw her last month. In fact, I’ve taken screenshots and short videos of the moments she’s caught by the surveillance cameras.
That tight little yellow dress, covering her up while showing off all her curves. That black choker around her neck. That golden rose pendant that rests between her collar bones, pulsing to the beat of her heart.
And now this old man is telling me that beauty is his daughter?
If I were a little more naïve, I’d be stumbling all over myself to declare this to be the work of fate. I’m not going to do that, but I know an opportunity like this will not come by twice.
“They’re all grown up,” I comment casually as Albert, my butler, comes to pour us more red wine. He raises a questioning eyebrow at me, but I press on. To the old man, I say, “They must be starting their own families now.”
“Oh, no.” Wrinkles appear on the man’s forehead and around his brown eyes when he chuckles. “My girls haven’t been lucky when it comes to love, especially Rosemary. She hasn’t ever had a boyfriend.”
And yet, despite the man having daughters of marriageable age and me obviously staring too long at the picture, he makes no mention of match-making.
It doesn’t surprise me, of course. Even though I’m royalty, my reputation as a sadistic beast has preceded me.
Still, I suppress a smile from spreading across my face.
So she’s really a virgin.
I had my doubts when I saw the white band around her wrist at the club. There was a meaning attached to every color, and white was for virgins.
But I thought a girl like her must have had many suitors. She couldn’t possibly be untouched.
“I have to admit it’s good to have them all to myself, though, even though that sounds selfish,” the old man suddenly says, smiling awkwardly.
Returning his smile, I wonder if he simply said that to fill the silence. I’m so used to quiet and solitude that it feels normal to me.
“Well, Quentin, I should retire for the night,” I say. “I have an event to attend in the morning. It’s the anniversary of the women’s division of the Royal Navy tomorrow.”
“Thank you so much for everything, Prince James. I mean, Your Royal Highness,” the old man says as he stands up.
“Oh, please. No need to get up. Just sit back and enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you,” he repeats, stubbornly getting up. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. I could’ve gotten lost in the woods and gotten attacked by wolves. You’ve saved my life.”
“Don’t mention it.” I give him the same polite smile that I usually give the press, then leave him with the mountains of food on the table.
I live alone in this big palace—along with Albert and the rest of the staff, of course. So when a guest comes, Albert tends to go overboard.
I thought this old man was just an ordinary lost traveler. This part of the woods is thick and it regularly swallows up hikers into its depths.
But it turns out he’s related to her.
Based on his non-reaction at my obvious interest in his daughters, Quentin has probably heard about my depraved desires. And just like the rest of the kingdom, he doesn’t want me to get close to any of them.
They seem like a nice little family, and he seems to think Rosemary would be better off if she never sees me again.
He’s wrong, of course, but he doesn’t know that.
In fact, I suspect I’m the only one who knows about his daughter’s dirty little secret.
Rosemary
“Hi, beautiful,” a cop greets me as soon as I walk through the glass door and into the police station.
“Hi Graham, have you heard any news about my father?” I ask, ignoring yet another one of his attempts at flirting. I need his help so it would probably be smarter to get on his good side, but I can’t stand the guy.
“No, Rose. I told you I’d come to your house to personally deliver the news if I heard anything,” Graham says.
“There’s no need for that. You know my number. You can just call me,” I say curtly.
“Okay, princess,” he says. He flashes me his rows of pearly white teeth.
I can only smile politely in response. The way he says it makes me cringe.
Sure, Graham has good looks, and some girls go for that. He has also climbed the ranks in the Willowdale Police Department at a young age, although a lot of his progress has to do with his father being the Chief of Police.
But nepotism isn’t why I’m not interested in his overtures. There’s something unpleasant about him that I can’t quite put a finger on.
For example, right now I know Graham doesn’t care about my father. He just likes the fact that I’m dropping by his workplace more often. He thinks he can use this opportunity to hit on me.
And when he said he’d visit me with any news? He’s only trying to get into my home, where my father doesn’t usually allow male visitors.
Yes, my father is more than a little old-fashioned. But he was born in a different land, where values were a lot more conservative, so I can’t blame him. He’s only trying to protect us.