by Thorne, Gigi
I put on a purple shirt and close my closet, walking toward her. “I’m ready for whatever you need me to do.”
She slowly opens her eyes, revealing those beautiful irises again that continue to draw in my complete attention. “As long as you’re not naked.”
“Oh c’mon, I’m sure you liked what you saw. Besides, it’s not as if you didn’t like it when I gave it to you,” I jest, taking a long sketchbook from her hand. “What’s this?”
She tries to snatch it back from me, but I turn away and walk toward my desk.
“Those are my drawings,” she says, approaching me. “Give that back, please.”
I open it and flip through pages and pages of beautiful sketches and outlines of amazing dresses, skirts, tops, pants, and pretty much anything else you can wear.
Suddenly, her fast fingers grasp it, and she takes it away from me. “Those are personal.”
“They’re amazing,” I say. “Love it.”
She blushes again. It looks good on her. So good, it makes me want to keep pushing her, so I can see those red cheeks again and again.
“Thanks, I guess.” She swallows when I catch her looking at me, and then she immediately looks away. “Anyway, let’s get started then.”
“Right … because that’s what you’re here for. To design clothes.” I clear my throat as I sit down behind my desk. “I didn’t know you were the one they hired.”
“As if I knew.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, frowning.
“No one told me I’d be working directly for the royals,” she says.
“Really? I’m surprised it wasn’t mentioned,” I reply.
“They only said I’d be working in the palace.”
Interesting. I’ll definitely have to speak to Mrs. Adallah about that.
I point at the chair in front of the desk, and say, “Sit, sit.”
She grabs the chair, slowly turns it, and carefully sits down as if she’s afraid to break the thing or something. That, or her ass is made of porcelain. Honestly, it makes me want to laugh.
“What? What’s so funny?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I say. “It’s just so extraordinary …” I gaze up at her from under my eyelashes. “To see you again.”
She licks her lips, and for some reason, I imagine it’s me licking them instead. “It was quite a surprise to me too, actually.” She makes a face. “Especially with the whole … bathing scene.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. If I’d known Mrs. Adallah was going to immediately let you in, I would’ve been dressed already.”
“Hmm … right.” She gazes down at her sketchbook, almost as if she’s thinking about something else right now. I wonder what’s on her mind.
“Is that … Those women …” Her lips are still parted, but she doesn’t finish her sentence. “Never mind.”
I smile, and say, “You mean the ladies who washed me? That’s normal, yes.”
She nods, clearly confused. “Right … Because you’re a royal and all.”
“Exactly.” Why do I get the feeling they don’t do that where she’s from?
And why, when I look into her eyes, do I sense a slight hint of jealousy?
“If you’re curious, I don’t do anything with them. Physically. They just wash me. That’s it.”
“I didn’t ask.” Her voice is blunt, almost as if she’s embarrassed.
“But you wanted to know, so now you have the answer,” I reply with a grin.
She seems even angrier now, and I love how it looks on her.
“No, I was just confused, that’s all,” she says, clearing her throat. “Anyway, let’s begin.”
6
Maya
I don’t think anything as remotely uncomfortable as this has happened in my life.
Like catching him while he’s naked. Watching a bunch of girls bathe him.
Not to mention the fact this is the same dude I hooked up with at the club mere hours ago.
I’m starting to wonder if I should doubt my sanity right now. I mean, if this isn’t otherworldly, I don’t know what is.
Especially the women touching him like that, both outside the palace and in the bath … it gave me the itches. Made me want to rinse myself off and tear my hair out. But why? Why am I so upset when I don’t even know this man? At least not beyond the quick kiss and fuck we shared.
Part of me feels a little deceived because he could’ve told me he was the prince before he hooked up with me. Though, I’m not even sure whether that would’ve stopped me from jumping his bones. Because damn … was I horny last night.
Still, I can’t help but feel a bit begrudged over what I just witnessed. And not just that, but how the hell did this guy go from flaunting his expensive car outside the palace to taking a nude bath with a bunch of women? Apparently, my conversation with Mrs. Adallah took a lot of time. There’s no other explanation.
That, or I’m losing my mind.
I try not to make it awkward as I run my ribbon around his waist and chest, determining the sizes I need. Even though I’m sweating profusely just from being so close to him, I refuse to acknowledge any effect he may have on me.
When I catch him staring at me as I come around to the front, my entire face turns warm. A sinful grin spreads on his lips that reminds me of last night. And what I saw when he came out of that deep floor tub … a long, juicy, dangling cock.
God. I didn’t even see his dick at the club. It had all happened so fast. One moment, we were kissing, and the next, I was bent over the counter being fucked in the pussy. I loved how it felt, and I knew he was big.
I just didn’t know he was that big.
Fuck.
I look away and sigh. Why can’t I get these images out of my mind?
He’s the prince, for God’s sake. He’s unattainable. And an ass, judging by the way he dismisses girls as though they’re disposable. Plus, he ditched me at the club without any explanation whatsoever. He could’ve said he had important business to attend to. Or lied. Whatever. Anything would’ve been better than how he just vanished.
“So … you’re an expat then?” he suddenly asks, probably trying to break the ice.
I roll up the tape and place it on the table. “I’m just here temporarily for business purposes.”
“Right …” He licks his lips as I hold up a few patches of fabric I brought to see which one matches his skin.
“So do you dress royalty often?”
“No. This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing,” I reply.
His frown intensifies. “That’d be a shame.”
“Why?” I ask, then shove the fabric that looks good into his hand. “Hold this, please.”
“Because you’d probably make a lot of royalty happy with your designs.”
I pause as his words repeat in my head. Did he just give me a compliment?
“Your drawings are very good,” he adds.
“Thanks,” I say, grabbing more fabrics to pair with it.
“I mean it,” he says.
I pause again and take a deep breath. “Okay, what’s this about?”
He shrugs. “Nothing. I’m just saying the truth.”
I raise a brow. “Right. Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to make me feel good?”
He flinches. “Would that make things all right between us?”
I step back and place both fabrics on the table. My lips part, but I find it hard to form the words I need. What in God’s name does he want me to say to that? So instead of replying, I grab my sketchbook and start sketching his figure so I can work on some designs. At least those aren’t ambiguous.
“Is that normal in your country?” he asks.
“What?” I ask, quickly penciling him down.
“Not answering a question a prince asks you.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to get angry, but boy, does this guy piss me off.
“Where I come from, there are no princes. Or kings, for that matter.”
&n
bsp; “USA, right?” he asks. “President then.”
“He’s still a person, just like I am. I don’t have to answer him when I don’t want to.”
“Interesting …” He mulls it over for a few seconds as I continue drawing. “So you really aren’t afraid to speak your mind around here?”
I cock my head. “No. Unless it can get me thrown into jail, then yes.” I cross my legs as his eyes dip down and go over my body as though he wants to ravish it. “Is that what you’re aiming for? Please, let me know now, so I can get out of here in time.”
He smiles. “No, of course not. I would never,” he says. “Besides, you’re way too cute for jail.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t try to woo me; it won’t work.”
“Who says I am?” He cheekily raises his brow, but then follows it with a wink, embarrassing me even more.
“This is strictly business,” I say, pointing at my work.
“Of course, it is …”
Why do I get the sense he’s not being serious at all right now?
I sigh. “Look, if you wanna do this another time, we—”
“No, no. Now is good. Now is perfect. I like this.” He glances at me awkwardly. “Should I stay still?”
“Yes, please. I’m trying to finish the drawing.”
“What comes after that?”
“I buy fabrics. I create the clothes. I give them to Mrs. Adallah.”
He looks taken aback. “Wait. Are you telling me this is the only time I’m seeing you?”
“According to the terms laid out in this contract, yes.” I point at the document on the desk.
“I didn’t agree to that,” he says, losing posture to read the fine print. “I’ll have to speak with Mrs. Adallah about this.”
I lean back and stare at him, confused. “Why?”
“Because I want to see you again, of course.” He grins. “Why else?”
I don’t even know what to do with that statement. But my body does because it goes from hot to cold, then back to hot in a flash.
I don’t know why, but I have the sudden urge to flee, so I do. I grab all my things and attempt to put them away, but the moment I reach for the contract, he grabs my wrist instead.
“Wait. Don’t go.” He glances at my wrist, then immediately releases me when he realizes he’s keeping me locked in place. “Sorry, I just …” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I wanted to apologize for the way I left you alone at the club. It was just that someone almost recognized me, and I didn’t want to risk it. The press is always following me everywhere.”
I nod. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t have done anything with you if I’d known you were royalty.” That’s probably a lie, but admitting the truth could get me in a world of trouble I don’t wanna be in right now.
He makes a face. “Really? Because I could’ve sworn you were enjoying yourself thoroughly in the bathroom … and that you’re still angry I left you hanging.” He comes closer. So close, I can smell his intoxicating cologne. The same cologne he wore that night at the club. The memories of our lips and bodies melding together come rushing back. And oh boy, what I wouldn’t give for another kiss … and for his cock to fill me up again. But that would be wrong … so wrong.
He’s the prince, and I’m his designer. It’s forbidden. Explicitly. It says so right in the contract. I’m not supposed to enter into a relationship with any royal whatsoever. Just work-related talk, and that’s it.
I swallow away the lump in my throat. “I’m not angry.”
“Of course, you aren’t,” he says with a smug smile. “But I still wanted you to know that I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly, and that I intend to make it up to you.” He grabs my hand and kisses the top. “Miss Maya.”
I quickly pull my hand back because it feels too good to say no. But I should. I definitely should, considering I could go to jail for this. Also, he’s a fucking prince. A dozen girls are lined up outside, waiting for him to pick one of them.
Why would he be interested in me?
I’m probably just another one of his conquests. A girl he fucked, another one to add to his collection. Once was enough. I’m not willing to be a part of his ego trip.
“Why?” I ask, holding my things close to me as if they’d provide any sort of protection against the seductiveness that embodies him. Just the way he presents himself, oozing with sex, makes my legs shake. But I can’t give in. Not again. Not now that I know who he really is.
“Because I like you,” he says as I tread backward toward the door. “And I think you like me too.”
Somehow, seemingly out of nowhere, the image of his huge dick flashes through my mind, and for a second there, I wonder how much more pleasure it could give me.
I can’t think of this. Not now. Not again.
I shake my head. “Just because I was interested at the club doesn’t mean I am now.”
“Really?” he muses with a tempting half-smile. “I beg to differ. I saw you looking at me when I stepped out of the tub.”
“There was hardly any other place to look,” I retort. “And you made it incredibly hard to look away with that entrance.”
“Or maybe you’re just finding it really hard not to think about me …”
I bump into the door, and he places his hands right beside me against the wood, trapping me inside.
I’m stammering. “If I’d known at the club I was meeting you today, I wouldn’t have ever—”
He places a finger on my lips. “I don’t believe that.”
“It’s the truth,” I say through gritted teeth as if that makes it any bit more believable.
He smirks. “Hmm …” Then he pulls away from the door.
I can breathe again. But I’m not sure how I feel about that because it’s suddenly oddly empty around me.
“You’re the first to say that,” he says.
I snort. “Sounds like a lie. Girls are waiting in line for you. I saw them kiss you outside near your car.”
“No, they’re standing in line for the prince,” he says, settling his direct gaze on me. “But you weren’t. You didn’t even know it was me.”
I suck in a breath, unsure of what to say.
I’m not sure what any of this means. This moment. Our meeting. The way everything went. And by God … the chances of it all happening.
So I say the only thing that makes sense right now. My only sense of security in a foreign country where I know nothing of the people, the customs, or the dangers that come with having fucked the prince.
“It was a one-time thing only,” I reply, opening the door.
Right before I leave, he says, “Pity. I would’ve loved a second try.”
But the door’s already closed behind me, and with it, my dignity has left the room as well.
Why? Because I’m still thinking about how badly I wanted him to kiss and fuck me again too.
Shit.
7
Maya
The royals have given me an actual workshop to create all my designs. I’m flabbergasted at how generous they are, but then again, nothing’s too extravagant when it comes to royals. I found that out the moment Amir told me professionally hired ladies wash him.
Not that I could ever complain. This workshop is literally all I could ever ask for. My place back home isn’t this large. Plus, the closets are full of all the tools I need and more giant tables to work at, several mannequins, and different sewing machines. And best of all, I’ve got the place all to myself. It’s a literal dream come true.
So I’ve spent the entire morning drawing out some designs, and now it’s time to go shopping for fabrics. I mean, they do have some lying around here, but I need more, and Mrs. Adallah said I could spend as much as I wanted. They even gave me a credit card to use, which made my creative soul want to squeal.
When I’m done, I put all my sketches and pencils in my bag and go outside, locking the doors behind me. This damn heat makes me feel like I’m being bombarded by the sun, but after a
while, I get used to the blistering heat. The city is bustling with people and vehicles, so it’s tough trying to get through the crowd, but it’s a rich experience nonetheless. It reminds me of New York; so much traffic in one place makes you feel like an ant.
I go to the market where I find stalls selling all sorts of things. Food, jewelry, clothing, bags, dishware, anything. You name it, they have it. But I’m not looking for a bargain; I’m looking for quality material, and Mrs. Adallah told me about a certain shop where I could find the best fabrics to make clothes with, so I’m headed there.
After a few locals point me in the right direction, I find it behind a few stalls. It’s an open store without doors and windows, but it does have a roof. The lady behind the counter is folding some colorful fabric that awakens my inner magpie.
She follows my every movement as I search through the store, picking up various fabrics that I like. My hands can’t help but touch every single one because texture is everything. And as I traipse through the store, my eyes can’t help but catch some men arguing at a stall.
But I stop in my tracks the moment I notice the familiar clothes … that I saw at the club the evening I met Amir.
My eyes widen as I realize it’s really him.
Again.
And this time, he’s not wearing that white garment, but black pants and a dark blue shirt with a scarf around his mouth instead. Almost as though he’s trying to blend in with the crowd of people again.
He grasps something from a lady and places it in the hands of the man. He scolds the woman, who seems to be crying, and then speaks to the manager again. They agree on something, and the man returns to business. After which, Amir turns his head back toward the woman, places his hand on her shoulder, and whispers into her ear.
A smile appears on her face, and she nods. Then she scurries off, and Amir covers his face with the same scarf I saw before.
That’s when he glances my way, and our eyes momentarily lock.
Shocked, I grab the first thing I can find—a few long drapes of red fabric—and hide behind it.
Nothing will hide my obvious blush the moment he rips it away from my hands.