Bad Boy Prince: A Modern Fairy Tale (Twisted Royals Book 3)

by Sidney Bristol

  “Maybe.”

  “I examined dead bodies for a living to figure out how they died. You look at living bodies and figure out how to keep them moving. It stands to reason I might be useful. What? What is it?”

  “I just...haven’t told very many people I’m back in school. Who goes back to school in their thirties?” He was dreading the others finding out.

  “You do. I do.” She lifted her shoulder. “It happens. You don’t think your family will be proud of you?”

  “I’m not sure they think I can do it. My cousin will be excited for me, I think, but the others...” All he was to them was a failure. A living reminder of the mistakes his father had made.

  “You totally can. You’re driven, determined, and you know what you want.”

  Freya saw Jaxon in a way he didn’t even see himself. He’d never really shed the mantle of being the unwanted son, a burden, a screw up.

  He’d changed by choice. Because when the feds hauled him in when he was a kid and laid out the crimes his friends were committing, crimes he could go down for, he knew he had to. Yet, his parent’s legacy still haunted him.

  But they didn’t have to define him. Just as Freya’s fears didn’t have to be true. She could love, once she chose to, though it might not be him she picked.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  “You.”

  He felt the puff of breath from her muted chuckle, sensed her smile. Her whole body seemed to ripple with it. When Freya was happy, it was obvious.

  Her nose bumped his and her lips brushed his chin, then his mouth. He splayed his hand against her lower back, tugging her closer.

  “Freya...” He meant to growl her name but it sounded more like a purr.

  “Maybe you’re right, and I need to let go of this crutch. Give me something to work toward.” She kissed his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

  “What am I? Your carrot now?”

  “You’re a yummy carrot.”

  “Freya—”

  “I want you to make love to me.”

  Shit.

  How did he turn that down?

  This was her choice. Even if it wasn’t the result he wanted.

  Jaxon rolled her to her back, settling himself in the cradle of her hips.

  Every second, every kiss counted. It might be their last, because she could leave him or he could die. There was no guarantee that just because she was free that she would stay with him. He didn’t want to live in regret, he wanted to live and love her.

  He loved Freya. Loved her for her smirks, her smiles, the way she laughed, how she saw him and the kind of selfless love it took to put her life on the line for a sister who didn’t deserve her. If Freya wanted to know love, he’d show it to her, and hope she recognized it for what it was, for what it could be. Even if it left him devastated and alone in the end. At least he’d tried, right?

  She griped his hands, their fingers threading together. Her calves wrapped around the back of his thighs, holding him prisoner against her. If he just kissed her every day, for the rest of her life, would it be like this? Always?

  Freya nipped his lower lip, everything about her touch insistent.

  This was what she wanted right now.

  His reasoning for giving in was bogus. It was an excuse.

  He loved her.

  She knew it.

  He knew it.

  So why not show her?

  He rocked his hips against hers and she groaned, her legs tightening. Her body undulated against his, his growing erection trapped between them.

  Jaxon pushed up, pulling his hands from hers, and sat back on his heels. He could see her form in the darkness, but he wanted more.

  “Turn on the light,” he said.

  Freya didn’t hesitate. She hit the switch on the base of the lamp between the beds, flooding the room with a pale glow.

  He flattened his hand on her stomach, inching the shirt up a bit.

  She felt when he kissed her? Then he’d taste every inch of her. Make every cell in her body feel.

  Jaxon kissed her hip, either side of her navel, and then her other hip. Her fingers slid over his scalp, through his hair. He nuzzled her sweatshirt up, lavishing every part of her he could reach.

  “Jax.” She moaned his name, arching her back up off the bed. Her legs tightened around him, pulling him back down.

  He shifted to one forearm and slid his hand into her sweatpants.

  No panties.

  Fuck.

  He stroked her mound while he kissed the underside of one breast. Her hands clenched his shoulders and her hips lifted. He spread his knees a bit, forcing her thighs open wider. She groaned, a frustrated, sexy sound he wanted to hear more of. He slid his hand along her slit, caressing her folds, feeling her arousal against his skin.

  And she thought she didn’t feel things, that she couldn’t. He had the evidence right there. Still, what the body wanted and the heart needed were different.

  Freya pulled the sweatshirt up and off, tossing it over the side of the bed. Her nipples were tight, hard peaks begging for attention. Her face was flushed, her pupils dilated.

  He slid a finger inside of her and watched her mouth open, listened to the pitch of her gasp. Her channel clenched around him, drawing him deeper. He added a second finger, pumping her slowly, relishing the way her face changed, the need written on every part of her body. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her feet curled around his ass driving her heels against him, her back arched, her hips shifted—every part of her was here and now. With him.

  Jaxon bent his head, licking her breast. She groaned again, her knee sliding higher on his back.

  He loved making her forget where they were, what was going on, the whole world, and just focus on them. Here. Now. It was a momentary escape, but one they did together.

  “Jax—please?”

  He switched to her other breast and rocked his hips against her, in time with his thrusts, driving his fingers deeper.

  “Oh—Jax.” Freya tipped her head back, breasts thrust up. She covered her bare breast with her hand, rolling her nipple between her fingers.

  He gently closed his teeth around the stiff nub.

  Her reaction was immediate. She cried out, a pleasure-filled, keening wail. He felt the ripples of her orgasm around his fingers and the tremble in her body.

  It was beautiful.

  Just like her.

  He kissed her chest, just over her heart, and sat up. His near-painful erection strained toward her.

  Freya hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her sweats and shoved them off, too, leaving her naked. Her eyes locked with his. She grasped the elastic of his shorts and pushed them down one hip. She wasn’t a patient woman, his Freya.

  He grinned, because he could. Because this was about them and not forgetting where they were, what was going on. They could enjoy this, and he wanted to. For her, for himself, for what they could be.

  Jaxon stepped off the bed and shoved his shorts to the floor.

  She followed, sitting up and reached for him. Her hand around his cock.

  “Freya...”

  She bent forward before he could think of a warning. Her lips wrapped around the head of his cock and all polite thought ceased. He fisted her hair and groaned at the lick of her tongue. She moaned around him. He could feel the vibrations down his cock and to his balls.

  He closed his eyes and tightened his hold.

  She opened her mouth and he thrust, not hard, but damn, that felt good. Not as good as her pussy, though.

  He hooked his hands under her arms, dragging her to her feet, kissing her mouth. Her nails dug into his biceps. At this rate he was going to be covered in little crescent-shaped marks, and he didn’t give a fuck. She could mark him from head to toe, if she wanted to.

  “I want you.” Freya wrapped her hand around his cock, giving it a squeeze. “Now.”

  “You have to let that go.” He glanced down at her gri
p on his erection. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She released him and he retrieved his last condom from his wallet. He’d no sooner pulled it out than she snagged it from him, ripping the packet open and plucking out the condom.

  This was why he’d fallen for her. She wasn’t just confident, she knew what she wanted, even if she didn’t know how to get there. She wanted to feel, to know what love was like, and she was taking the chance. Even if she didn’t love him, he was so fucking proud of her for going after it.

  She rolled the condom on, peering up at him through her lashes.

  He bumped her chin and kissed her mouth, enjoying the feel of her hands on him, her body brushing his.

  Freya let go of him and pushed his shoulders. He rocked back on his heels, frowning at her. She bit her lower lip, the corners of her mouth curling up, and pushed him again. Harder.

  He took a step back and his calves hit the other bed.

  She shoved his chest and he toppled back, bouncing on the bed once before she crawled over him.

  She bent, her breasts brushing his hips as she kissed his stomach, his ribs. He wasn’t sure what to focus on, the feel of her nipples against him, her lips or the sight of her heart-shaped ass.

  Freya reached his mouth, but didn’t kiss him.

  He liked her like this, free to be herself, take and give what she wanted. It was the version of her that he’d fallen for, not the caged princess in the tower. This person. This wonderful woman who saw deeper, wanted more, and didn’t stop.

  She sat back, his cock jutting up between them. She wrapped her hand around him and grinned, her eyes sparkling.

  He was a lucky bastard.

  Jaxon wrapped her hand around his, guiding the head of his erection through her folds. She shifted, moving with him. She canted her hips, lodging the head of his cock against her entrance.

  He groaned, bracing himself for the feel of her.

  Freya rolled her pelvis, her body stretching around him, welcoming him.

  “The look on your face right now...you make me want to feel things, Jax.”

  Jaxon gripped her hips, words slipping through his mind, but nothing came out of his mouth. Freya chuckled, nonplused by his silence.

  She let go of him and sank down, taking all of him inside of her, until their bodies pressed together. She planted her palms on his chest, her hair falling over one shoulder. He covered her hands with his, staring up at her in all her glory, free.

  Freya bent forward, brushing her lips over his.

  She shifted, and he moved with her, his cock sliding from her body, only for her to sink back down, enveloping him in her heat.

  This, here and now, was about her. What she needed. What she wanted.

  He offered her his hands and she laced their fingers together, using his strength to move, to fuck him. He thrust in time to her movements, their bodies joining in such a way that sent ripples through her each time.

  She was close. Again.

  He let go of her hand and reached between them, finding her damp clit. He stroked the nub and her eyes lit from the inside. Her jaw dropped and she sat down hard, driving him deeper, harder.

  “Oh—yes,” she said between breaths.

  Jaxon braced a foot on the box spring and thrust up harder in time with her. Her free hand splayed against his chest, those wicked nails of her scoring his flesh.

  She chanted his name.

  Her orgasm squeezed him, creating a velvet vice. He drove up, into her, gritting his teeth while pleasure robbed her of her senses. All at once, the room faded from view. He heard his hoarse shout, but was lost to the euphoria, the feel of her body, the drowning wave of bliss.

  Freya collapsed forward, against his chest. He hugged her to him, rocking into her, drawing the orgasm out.

  God damn, he wanted to do this every night for the rest of his life.

  He loved her. He loved her, and he was fucked, because what if she woke up tomorrow and didn’t want him the way he wanted her?

  18.

  Freya stalked back into the hotel room.

  Jaxon was a strong, silent presence at her back. He closed the door behind her, instead of the nice slam she’d have preferred.

  “This is bullshit.” She whirled to face him and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Jaxon spread his hands and shrugged.

  “This is the part where you’re supposed to say they’re doing everything they can.” She leaned toward him, jabbing her finger at his chest.

  “The feds are doing what they think is best.” He wrapped his hands around hers, lifting them to his lips. He kissed one knuckle and then another.

  Her insides went warm. It was all too easy to take her frustrations out in a completely nonproductive manner. That would at least be pleasurable.

  “Look at it this way—Michelle knowingly colluded with a criminal and has now fled with him. They’ve been chasing their tails with this guy for so long, they probably don’t realize how close they really are.”

  “I still can’t believe Michelle would...” Freya pulled out of Jaxon’s hold and turned, staring out through the windows at the dreary rain coming down. “She was—she is—my sister.

  “I know.” Jaxon wrapped his arms around her waist, surrounding her with comfort and warmth.

  It would be so easy to take what he offered and ignore the pressing need to find Michelle, even if she was a traitor and rotten sister.

  “She wasn’t always like this,” Freya muttered.

  “Of course not.”

  “I just... That’s how I remember her, you know?” She peered over her shoulder at him.

  “My parents took me to this carnival once. It was one of those things that sets up in a parking lot. Nothing fancy, but we spent a whole day there. Shared cotton candy, hot dogs. I got to ride a pony. There was this moment as we were crammed into the Ferris wheel, that my dad leaned over me and kissed my mom, and she laughed. We were happy. That’s how I remember my parents.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t be. All I’m saying is...they’re our family. We know them. We see them differently. To those guys out there? Your sister, me? We fit into a box because of our choices, and the way I look. That doesn’t mean it’s right.”

  “What do I do?”

  “I don’t know.” Jaxon sighed and kissed her temple.

  “Did you check on your classes?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You should.”

  “Maybe later.”

  Freya pulled out of his arms and paced to the window. She stared out at the clouds mirroring her inner turmoil.

  She was sick of being cooped up, but also recognized the danger in going out there right now. Who knew what Yuri was up to? Where he was? What he’d do about her sister?

  But...

  “They aren’t looking harder because...” Freya turned and looked at Jaxon. “They think he’s already gone. With Michelle. What point would there be in coming back for me? None. Charles is dead. Yuri has Michelle.”

  “I imagine the feds will freeze the trust, if they haven’t already.”

  “If they do that, Michelle is as good as dead. She’s only worth something to Yuri because he thinks he can get to the money through her. But Yuri probably knows the trust will be shut down soon, so he’d have gotten out fast, before the feds do something about it. And that’s if my dad hasn’t figured out a way to seize the money as his, the rotten bastard.” She wasn’t feeling as forgiving where her father was concerned.

  Jaxon kept staring at her, his expression...odd.

  “What?” she asked.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the door, then closed the distance between them.

  “I’ve got a friend. He’s looking for her,” he whispered. “He found her before, maybe he can find her again. It’s not legal though.”

  “Oh...”

  She stared at Jaxon and had the strangest feeling she wasn’t seeing all of him.

  He was more than the bounc
er with the kind smile. He was a fighter, a student, a friend, a lover. He had people in his life who would face down criminals as a favor. Freya wasn’t so sure she had a friend who’d loan her twenty bucks besides Jaxon.

  “How’s the...your friend?”

  “Ian?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s fine, last I heard.”

  “He’s the one with the pregnant girlfriend?”

  “You heard that rumor, too?”

  “What’s their story?”

  “You’ll have to ask Taylor about that one.” Jaxon grinned.

  “They sound like good people.”

  “They are. You’ll meet more of them, probably.”

  Freya would like that, to see more of his world. The people he called friends.

  A knock at the door brought her out of her thoughts. Jaxon crossed the room and peered through the peephole for half a second before opening the door.

  “Morning! I heard you two have been busy.” Shelby breezed in, Kade in her wake.

  “We, uh...” Freya felt heat crawling up her neck.

  “Wow. Not that kind of busy.” Shelby chuckled.

  “Did Rusty tell you anything?” Jaxon asked.

  “Not really. Nothing I didn’t already guess at.” Shelby pulled a few pieces of folded paper from her back pocket.

  “I went through what Rusty was able to give us last night and did an inventory of people.” Kade took the paper from Shelby and gestured at the names. “Between police records, Zach’s digging and social media, we’ve been able to eliminate a lot of Gabor’s former work force. Most of them have left his employ for others. We’ve got maybe a dozen guys still working for him.”

  “Keith and Donny, you can take those two off,” Jaxon said.

  “Thomas is dead.” Freya swallowed, the visual of Thomas’ lifeless eyes stuck in her head.

  “That leaves us with eight, maybe?” Kade shrugged.

  “That’s not a lot of people to move Gabor and Michelle securely,” Shelby said. “Both Ogden and Gabor relied on a human network of people and connections to move them and their resources outside of the purview of the law. Without that framework, Gabor has to rely on the same modes of transportation we have, and that makes him vulnerable.”