Waking His Princess: A Sleeping Beauty Romance (Filthy Fairy Tales Book 2)

by Parker Grey

  I answer in grunts and single words, because even though I’m trying to do better, just being near her reduces me to my basest state. All I can think about is tearing her dress off, pulling her hair, and taking her again and again while she whimpers, begging me for more.

  At last, we enter the South Wing of the castle, and she leads me down a stone hallway. For once, there’s no one else here, and we come up to a doorway.

  “These will be your chambers,” she says, turning her crystal-blue gaze on me as she stops, clearly expecting me to go in.

  I don’t. Instead I let my eyes roam over her body, savoring every goddamn inch of her and letting her know exactly what I’m doing.

  I’m hard as fucking iron, and my trousers can’t even begin to hide my massive erection.

  I’m a beast in more ways than one.

  “You can drop the act,” I growl.

  She swallows hard, but she doesn’t budge an inch, just lifts her head up a little, her chin jutting out.

  “What act?”

  I step forward so that now we’re closer. I tower over her by at least a foot, and maybe more, but she doesn’t back down.

  “The act that I didn’t rescue you from the wolves last night,” I say, my voice low and gravelly.

  She looks down, turning her head slightly, and the cords in her neck pop. I grit my teeth together and force myself not to bite them.

  “Thank you for that,” she says, her voice polite and rigid. “And thank you for not telling my parents the trouble that I nearly got myself into, but—“

  “But nothing, Princess,” I say, and take another step closer.

  This time she takes a step back, against the wall.

  “You were running from bad news, and the bad news was me,” I go on.

  She looks me in the eye, half defiant and half nervous, and I put one hand on the wall, next to her head.

  “That’s not exactly what I meant,” she says bravely, and I just laugh.

  “You can’t lie to me,” I say, and now my face is just inches from hers. “You think I don’t know the rumors? You think I don’t know what people say?”

  She swallows hard, her eyes darting back and forth.

  “You think I don’t know about this?” I ask, running one finger the length of my thick, ugly scar.

  “I didn’t say that,” she whispers.

  “I came here for one reason, princess,” I growl. It’s taking everything I have not to crush her mouth with mine right now, tear off her dress and show her just how uncivilized I am, but I don’t.

  Not yet.

  “I came here to make you mine,” I say. “Not because my parents arranged a marriage. Not because your parents requested that I marry you. I will have you, Princess.”

  Chapter Five

  Josephine

  I bite my lips together, a flush creeping onto my cheeks.

  Take me! I want to scream, because I don’t know how or why, but there’s something about Prince Leo that turns my body to jelly.

  But I gather every ounce of wits I have, and even though my entire body is heated beyond recognition, my core aching and hot, I open my mouth.

  “That’s not up to you,” I whisper.

  His face doesn’t change at all, but I swear there’s a fierce, wild light that comes into his eyes, a light that sparks something deep and needy inside me.

  “Don’t lie to yourself, Princess,” he says, his voice practically dripping with danger and sex. “I can tell what you want, even from here.”

  He tilts his head forward, until his lips are nearly on my ear.

  “And I promise to give it to you until you scream my name,” he says, his voice vibrating through my entire being, sending shivers down my spine.

  I’m holding my breath, eyes shut tight. He’s right and I hate that he’s right.

  Suddenly he takes a step back, the spell broken, and he straightens his suit.

  “I’ll see you at dinner, then?” he asks, one hand on the doorknob.

  I open my mouth. I close it. My whole body is a riot of want and need and desire and revulsion, so it takes me a moment to find the right words.

  “Yes,” I finally say. “Yes, of course.”

  He gives me one more long look up and down, then pushes his door open.

  “It’ll be my pleasure,” he says, and then enters his chambers.

  I turn on my heel and walk as fast as I possibly can without running toward my own rooms.

  I shut my door and lock it, breathing hard, and lean back against it.

  What just happened?! I think, frantically.

  Prince Leo — beastly, unseen, uncivilized — is the man from last night. The man who stepped in and rescued me, the man who protected me, the man who graciously let me use his phone.

  The man I couldn’t stop thinking about last night, the way his shoulders filled out his leather jacket, the way his hand was rough as he gave me his phone.

  And I don’t know what happened just now. It was completely uncalled for, rude, arrogant — not to mention it’s a total breach of etiquette to pin a princess against a wall and tell her that she’s yours.

  But now my heart’s beating wildly, my whole body tingling and surging with pure, unfiltered want. If he’d gone on, if he’d kissed me, yanked the top of my dress down and rolled my nipples roughly between his fingers, if he’d pulled off my skirt and ripped away my thong —

  “Quit it,” I say out loud, even though there’s no one in my room but me, and I walk away from the door and start pacing back and forth, trying not to think about what just happened.

  Or how much I wanted more to happen.

  I don’t even know what I wanted to happen. I’ve never done more than kiss a boy before, my very strict parents have seen to that.

  I mean, I’m not an idiot. I know about sex and how it works. I’ve just never done it. Or even been within miles of doing it.

  I sit on my bed, hands planted at my sides, and make myself take deep breaths.

  This is normal, I say. It’s... hormones or something, I don’t know, you’re just really worked up because something like that has never happened to you before.

  I know it’s not hormones. I’m twenty-three, not sixteen. And I also know it’s not because I’ve never gotten laid. I’ve had crushes before, and I’ve definitely had sexy thoughts about men before, but not like this.

  This was all-consuming, totally enthralling. Like every nerve in my body was lit on fire at once.

  Gently, so I don’t mess up my hair, I lie back on my bed and pull the skirt of my gown up, the material slithering up my legs and to my hips.

  Just don’t think about Prince Leo, I tell myself. Take care of things, just don’t think about him.

  When I slide my hand under my thong, it’s soaking wet, my lips swollen and aching with desire. Quickly, I run two fingers along my seam, shuddering as I do — Prince Leo’s tongue darting between my lips as his hands — NO, stop it! — and start circling my clit.

  God, it feels good. Better than it has in ages, because I’m so ready for this. I bit my lip and turn my head to one side, clutching my sheets in my left hand.

  Not him, I think. Not him. Think about the cute gardener or something.

  I try. I think about the cute gardener, taking off his shirt in the shed behind the castle... and then when he turns, he’s got Prince Leo’s face.

  A bolt of pleasure shudders through me.

  Dammit.

  I rub myself faster and faster, desperate for release. Now I’m panting for breath, gasping for air, desperately trying not to think about anything but it’s not working.

  Prince Leo, pushing me against a wall, his hands so tight on my hips it might bruise.

  Prince Leo, one hand in my hair, pulling my head back roughly as he growls.

  Prince Leo, spinning me around and bending me over the bed, one hand holding me there as he teases me, parting my lips with the impossibly thick head of his cock, as he pushes harder and enters my tight, vi
rgin pussy for the first—

  I come. I come so hard that I cry out, fingers clutching at the bedsheets, toes curling. Even though I’ve gotten myself off hundreds of times, I come harder than I ever have before, so hard it surprises me.

  I just lie there, letting the waves roll over me, until I can finally think and move again, and I sit up, pushing my dress back down, still a little shaky.

  It’s okay, I tell myself. People fantasize about things they don’t really want all the time.

  Right?

  I stand, then walk slowly to my bathroom to wash my scent off of my hands before I go have dinner with the man my parents want me to marry.

  Chapter Six

  Leo

  At the banquet, Josephine and I have been seated at different tables. I seriously consider simply sitting at her table anyway, and letting whoever’s seat I take find another goddamn place to sit, but I don’t.

  I can act like I belong in polite company, even if I know I don’t.

  Besides, it’s for the best. Being close to Josephine is too almost overwhelming, too much for me to take. Ever since I first saw those awful tabloid photos of her a few months ago, I knew she was beautiful, stunning, luscious in ways I don’t have words for.

  But being near her, in person, is almost more than I can take, and I don’t want the animal inside me to take over in the middle of this banquet.

  Dinner finishes. Afterward there’s brandy and cigars, and I force myself to partake in both, along with an incredibly tedious conversation about the economic implications of the new trade agreement between Finland and Russia.

  I don’t care about the trade agreement. What I want to do is race off to Josephine’s chambers, break down the door, take her trembling body in my arms, and taste her.

  But I want more than that from her. I can’t explain it, but I need her ways I’ve never felt before, in ways that go beyond a single night or two.

  I want to make her mine forever, and I know that if she thinks I’m a monster, that won’t happen.

  It’s late before I finally get back to my chambers in the south wing of the palace, and I’m fucking exhausted from being in polite company for hours, because I know what everyone’s thinking behind their smiles.

  They think I’m a freak. A monster. A brute who’s totally unfit to be in public, let alone polite society.

  And I know that, despite everything, they think I’m a murderer.

  This is why I haven’t gone out into public in years, at least not as Prince Leopold. I’ve left the palace, of course; I’m not a hermit or a shut-in, and you’d be amazed at what a hat and sunglasses can do. If anything, not officially leaving the palace in the fifteen years or so since the incident has given me a more normal life than I’d have otherwise.

  I walk over to the windows and look out at the moonlit gardens, intersected by neat paths, orderly like everything else in this tiny country. I watch them for a long time, because there’s something soothing in their perfect layout, every corner ninety degrees, every walkway perfectly parallel.

  Something moves in the corner of my vision, and I look down.

  It’s a woman, wearing a long dress, and she’s slowly strolling along one of the paths, absentmindedly flicking flowers as she walks past them. Even though I can’t see her face from my window, there’s something about the way she moves, something incredibly alluring about the shape of her body.

  I know exactly who she is.

  And she knows that she’s strolling right in front of my windows.

  I lean forward slightly, gripping the stone window frame with both hands in a desperate effort to maintain control because just the sight of her floods me with desperate need. All I can think about is earlier today, her back against the wall.

  The way her lips parted, just barely. The flush that rose to her cheeks, the way her back arched against the stone.

  The faint, faint scent of arousal so strong she couldn’t hide it.

  And God, more than everything else, her submission. We both knew that she could have screamed and the guards would have come running, but she didn’t. There were a million ways for her to get rid of me, but she didn’t do any of them.

  I’m hard again, so hard it hurts.

  I know what she wants. I’ve known what she wants from the second I laid eyes on her in that bar.

  And I know why she’s casually strolling underneath my window at midnight.

  I find the nearest staircase and head down to the ground floor, then outside, into the gardens. I know I’m in full view of half the castle, but I don’t give a shit if anyone sees me.

  Everyone knows what I’m here for. Let them watch.

  After a few minutes, I see a figure ahead of me, on the path, the dress shining dully in the moonlight, her slim waist curving out to perfect hips and an ass made for grabbing. I reach out and snap a flower from a rose bush.

  See? I can be a fucking gentleman.

  As I approach, Princes Josephine turns. She doesn’t exactly look surprised, but she looks like she’s suddenly uncertain about this.

  “Your Highness,” I say, and bow, presenting the flower.

  “Prince Leopold,” she says.

  She takes the rose gingerly, like she thinks it might bite her, and her gaze lingers on the torn stem at the bottom where I pulled it from the bush.

  “Call me Leo,” I tell her.

  “What are you doing out here, Leo?” she asks softly, though the look in her eyes tells me that she already knows.

  “I should ask you the same thing,” I say, stepping closer.

  She glances at the wall of windows, all dark and half-hidden.

  “Taking a walk,” she says.

  “Taking a walk below my window late at night?” I growl, stepping closer again. “There are a thousand places to walk at the palace, Princess, and you picked this one.”

  Josephine takes a deep breath.

  “I can walk wherever I like,” she says.

  “And you like walking where I can see you,” I say, stepping forward again. Now we’re inches from each other, and if she can’t see the enormous bulge in my pants, she’s blind.

  I feel like every nerve is my body is twitching, ready to jump through my skin with tension because I want to claim her mouth, push her to the ground and ravish her tight virgin cunt. I want to be the first man she feels there, and I want it now, here.

  “Tell me, Princess,” I whisper, sliding one hand through her hair, then locking it in place. “Are you still as wet for me as you were this afternoon?”

  I pull her hair just slightly, and her head tilts back a fraction of an inch. She swallows, her eyelids lowering a little, her breath quickening.

  “How did you know?” she asks.

  I slide my other arm around her waist, my fingers digging into her back, and I grin as I tower over her.

  “Lucky guess,” I say.

  Then I bend down, crushing my mouth with hers, and I claim her.

  Chapter Seven

  Josephine

  Leo’s lips are hard against my own, soft and rough all at once as he kisses me so hard I think he might leave bruises.

  After a long moment he pulls back slightly, just enough to let me breathe, and then he devours me again as he pulls me against his body, his tongue pushing my lips open and tangling with my own, and I can’t help but moan into his mouth.

  He growls in response, his hand cupping my ass and dragging me against him and the absolutely massive lump in his pants, pressing urgently into my belly.

  He must be wearing padded underwear or something, because it can’t possibly be that big.

  Leo pulls away again. My lips feel swollen and bruised, and he’s still got one hand locked in my hair, my head tilted backward, but every cell in my stupid, traitorous body is absolutely writhing with anticipation.

  As soon as his lips leave mine, they’re traveling along my jaw, to my neck, my ear, kissing and sucking and biting the sensitive skin there as I think I might lose my min
d. I’ve got both my hands on his shoulders, but that’s just for show because I’m locked tight in his arms, and it’s obvious there’s no way he’s letting me go.

  “Is this how you wanted your walk to end?” he murmurs into my ear as he finally takes his hand out of my hair and runs it down my back, grabbing my ass with both hands.

  I don’t answer, because it is, and I close my eyes again as he squeezes me hard, his erection hard against my belly.

  “Or were you hoping for more?” he growls. “Maybe you wanted to end your walk with my face between your legs, licking you until you came?”

  His hand moves down, sliding between my buttocks, and I gasp when he slides it between my legs, stretching the fabric of my dress.

  “Or maybe you wanted me to finger-fuck your sweet little pussy while you moaned,” he goes on.

  Leo starts stroking me, through my skirt and panties, and it’s all I can do not to whimper with pleasure.

  Then he leans in, lips against my ear.

  “Or maybe you were hoping your walk would end with my thick cock buried in your tight little virgin cunt,” he whispers, and I gasp.

  No one’s ever talked to me this way. No one’s ever even come close, but even though my face is burning, heat is flooding downward through my body with every filthy word he says.

  I swallow.

  “How do you know I’m a — you know...”

  “Everyone knows you’re totally untouched,” he growls, his fingers still stroking me, every movement sending a shudder through my body. “It wouldn’t do for a princess to be anything but a virgin on her wedding night.”

  I bite my lip as he keeps stroking me, because right now, that’s the last thing I want. As much as I know I shouldn’t be here, letting Prince Leo touch me like this, talking to me like this, I’m putty in his hands.

  Suddenly, I hear voices coming down the path.