My Royal Temptation

by Riley Pine

  “Sorry. It’s the Golden Oldies Hour on Royal Radio. Our favorite,” she said.

  “Our?” My eyebrow goes higher.

  “Sir.” X is matter-of-fact and unapologetic as he starts the engine. “Would you like to take a seat?”

  “I’d like to know who you are and what you’ve done with my bodyguard,” I shoot back as an unexpected wave of possessive jealousy rolls between my clenched shoulder blades.

  “Was your outing with Miss Bjorn satisfactory?” Kate asks, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth with wide eyes.

  “No. And where the hell did you get that?”

  She pops another kernel into her mouth. “We went to the movies. They were showing the live action Beauty and the Beast at the discount theater and X had never seen it.”

  “An oversight he must be happy to have rectified,” I snap.

  Kate shrugs. “I was prepared to share with him my love of all things fast and furious, but the Disney classic won out. Apparently X is impressed by royalty. Me, not so much.” She bites back a grin, and all I can do is bite back my own rage.

  X’s eyes shoot to mine in the rearview, and I glare out the window. Stupid to be jealous of my bodyguard. But the entire day I suffered with Regina Bore, he was with Kate. Enjoying himself. Enjoying her. I’ve shared women with X in the past, but this is one time that I don’t want to. I don’t want to share her with anyone. The idea of her with another man, even if I’m there as well, makes my stomach turn over as my fingers curl into themselves.

  I stare back at her as white-hot possession shoots through me.

  Mine.

  The word is powerful and pure. My blood pounds with the echo. Mine. Mine. Mine.

  This is the truth. And it’s time she knows it.

  “X, to the palace.”

  “I need to get back to the office,” Kate protests. “If your second date was another bust, then I need to review lucky number three and figure out a game plan.”

  “I want to use the back entrance,” I continue as if she hasn’t spoken. A vague headache pounds in my temples. I want to drop the pretense for two seconds. I will never marry. I’m not made for the institution, and Kate is wasting her time.

  That shouldn’t be my problem, but I don’t want her to leave. At least not yet. I want to enjoy the pleasure of her company a little while longer.

  “Sir?” X asks, and I know what he really means. “Are you sure about this?”

  No woman has ever accompanied me back to the palace, to my private quarters. Not until now.

  I nod my head. “And make it fast.”

  Kate

  “Where are the king and queen this fine evening?” Nikolai asks X as we pull to a side of the palace I haven’t seen before.

  “In Paris until tomorrow for the queen’s—” he coughs “—rejuvenation treatments.”

  Nikolai grins at me. “Do you need to let your sister know you won’t be coming home this evening?”

  I cross my arms and narrow my eyes. “I don’t have a curfew, Your Highness. But I do have work to do if we are going to make the perfect match, so I really should—”

  “Stay,” he says, the grin fading, those gray eyes dark with something too intense to deny. Because I feel it too—have felt it since he left for Zurich despite the comfort of X’s presence and our day of distraction.

  I won’t ask him why. Or what this means. I won’t let logic override the ache in my belly. I can do this and not endanger the business. I force myself to believe it because the word is already forming on my lips.

  “Okay,” I answer.

  Nikolai’s door opens, and X stands at the ready. The man is the epitome of stealth. I didn’t even realize he’d exited the vehicle.

  Nikolai turns toward the opened door. “Miss Winter will be staying this evening, X.”

  X nods. “A moment alone with your guest, please, Your Highness. I shall then escort her to your quarters.”

  Nikolai laughs quietly. “A bit bold today, aren’t we, X?”

  X nods but doesn’t crack a smile. “When it’s called for, Your Highness.”

  Nikolai faces me again, gently grabbing my palm and bringing it to his lips. “See you soon,” he whispers, and then he’s gone.

  Moments later my door opens, and X offers a hand to help me out of the vehicle.

  “Let me guess,” I say, as he leads me through a small door and into a dimly lit stairwell. “You want to finish our Neil Diamond duet.”

  No smile or any indication that only several minutes ago the two of us could have turned every chair on The Voice. Instead he simply holds out an arm for me to grab as we begin to ascend the steep stairs.

  “The prince,” he says, “is very private.”

  I snort.

  “What the world sees in the media is what he wants them to see, Miss. And while I am not at liberty to divulge his past, I can say as much as this. Save for Victoria, the queen’s late daughter, no woman has ascended these stairs. Not before—and not since.”

  There is no time for me to respond as we reach a small landing at the top, a tall oak door—partially ajar—before us. He nods for me to enter, and I do. I hear the door click shut behind me and turn to see X standing with his back to it, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. Then, as quick as a blink, he steps to his left, where soft curtains billow beside an open window—and he leaps through it like we aren’t on the third story of a palace.

  I yelp.

  Nikolai rounds the corner, a bottle of Moët in one hand, two crystal flutes in the other.

  “Let me guess,” he says. “X took the window.”

  My hand covers my mouth as I nod, imagining my silver-fox companion splattered against the brick pavers below.

  Nikolai laughs and shakes his head. “He often prefers scaling the brick to the stairs. Sometimes I wonder who X was before he came here, but I’ve learned to not question the man’s abilities and thank the stars we’re on the same team.” He moves closer, his feet bare beneath the dark denim of his jeans and his now-wrinkled oxford unbuttoned. “He’s fine. I promise.”

  “I’m not looking out that window,” I say, goose bumps raising the hairs on my bare arms. The sundress was perfect for the day, but now that the sun has set, I shiver in the open-air breeze. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Nikolai nods toward the direction from which he came.

  “You’re cold,” he says. “Come. Let me warm you up.”

  I follow him around a corner and note a small galley kitchen with dark marble counters, a sturdy wooden table—round—with four high-backed chairs beyond the breakfast bar. I don’t have time to take in the modest living space other than a baby grand piano against a floor-to-ceiling window beyond a leather couch. The next thing I know, I’m walking through another door and into my prince’s bedroom.

  He sets the bottle and flutes on a night table and turns back to me. His strong hands run the length of my arms, warming me from the outside in. I let out a breath.

  “Why am I here, Nikolai?” I can’t hold out any longer, my curiosity getting the best of me. My chest tightens at the thought of his answer.

  He kisses my neck, and my head falls back. A small sigh escapes my lips.

  “I don’t want to share you,” he says against my skin, his lips making their way up to my jaw, then my cheek.

  “But I haven’t been—” I stop myself before telling him that I have not been with any other man since he first laid his hands on me—that for two years before that there hadn’t been anyone, either.

  His mouth finds mine, and my lips part, inviting him in—craving the taste of him like I didn’t know I could.

  “I don’t like that X got to see a side of you today that I’ve never seen.”

  The sentence comes out almost as a growl, and my breath hitches.

  “It wa
s a movie,” I whisper. “Not a helicopter ride to another country for an intimate lunch.” I don’t regret the words—or laying my jealousy out before him, not when he is blatantly doing the same. I want him, more than I’ve been able to admit, and right now I’m ready to give him all of me in return.

  He backs toward the four-poster ebony bed, red silk sheets pulled back to reveal the space where his body last lay. I grin against his lips.

  “What?” he asks, feeling the change in my expression.

  “No one comes in to clean? To make your bed, Your Highness?”

  He sits on the edge of the mattress, pulling me close so I straddle his lap.

  “No one enters other than those closest to me,” he says, his eyes dark with need. “And I want you closest, Kate. Tonight I want you more than anyone else.”

  I answer him by unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way and sliding it down his arms. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep as my fingers trace the lines of ink on his shoulder, as they circle the tattoo of a compass that rests above his heart.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say, a slight tremor in my voice. “You’re beautiful, Nikolai.”

  He opens his eyes and wordlessly lifts my dress over my head so I’m left in nothing but my white lace panties.

  “You’re exquisite,” he says. Then he takes one of my breasts into his mouth. I arch against him. “Finer than any woman who bears a title.” His tongue swirls around the peaked nipple of my other breast, and I gasp. “Open your eyes and look at me,” he says, and I obey. “No matter what I do, you see me.”

  I cradle his beautiful face in my palms. “I do.”

  “And you want me,” he says.

  I nod.

  “Only me.”

  I nod again, taking each of his palms in mine and pressing them to my breasts. “Only you.”

  “I’ll win our wager,” he says with a grin. “I will not walk down the aisle.”

  “You will marry,” I remind him and swallow back the reality of what that means.

  “Not tonight, though.” He falls onto the bed, pulling me over him.

  “No,” I say. “Not tonight.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Nikolai

  FOR HOW LONG has my soul been trapped in a vise of loneliness? For years I have passed through countless nights as restless and insatiable as a vampire. Instead of feeding on mortal blood, I devoured what distraction and comfort was available in the form of sexual release—the more depraved, the better.

  I take and take and take with a relentlessness matched only by my many lovers who are eager to use me in turn for the proximity to limitless power and wealth.

  But tonight? All I want is to give. Kate Winter shall experience nothing less than absolute, exquisite pleasure.

  She is stretched above me. My hands roam the soft swells of her body, the dip of her small hourglass waist. Her loose curls tumble over my face, forming a curtain of fire. Again I am stricken by the paradox—Miss Winter, whose hair burns brighter than the sun, whose undeniable beauty burns my heart.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she whispers, and as her lips part, I catch a glimpse of her teeth, her tongue. Oh yes, that pink clever tongue, which swirled around my cock until I nearly forgot my birthright. And that was in a hurried riverside tryst. Tonight the hours spread before us, and I intend to put each one to good use.

  “A good idea?” I give my head a single shake. “No, Pet. It is the best idea.”

  A hitched breath escapes her perfect lips as I cradle her face in my hands. My mouth finds hers, and our groans collide. I place my palms over her breasts again, and her heart careens against my hand. My thumbs circle her nipples before teasing them with a flick. She gasps in appreciation, sinking her nails deep into my biceps. I coax her forward.

  Her breasts tumble into my face. I suck one gorgeous nipple into my mouth, then the other, feasting as if she is languorously feeding me champagne grapes. One small press of my teeth against her sensitive flesh, a teasing nip, and she arches, her pelvis rocking over mine.

  I snarl from need mixed with acute frustration. Tonight I had planned to take it slow, savor every last inch of her body, worship her skin with my tongue. But animal that I am, lust consumes me, and a deeper feeling, an urgency comes over me to be home, as if her body is the safe harbor in the violent black storms that have rocked my world for so long. Turbulence has since become my new normal.

  “My turn,” she whispers, moving over me, traveling the ridges of my flexed abdomen with her pouty lips. Then lower, until she reaches my belt buckle, unhooks it, and with a pop of a button and the grind of a zipper, my entire proud length is revealed.

  She takes me by the root and swirls her tongue around the end. “Mmm,” she murmurs. “So good.”

  I prop myself up on my elbows, letting her take me for a few wet strokes. “Fuck,” I groan.

  “You like that?” she asks in a flirtatious tone, before adding, “Your Majesty.”

  Naughty minx.

  “Hell yes, I do, Pet. And you know what I’ll like even more?”

  She arches a brow in question.

  “Tasting you at the same time.” I reach down and with one deft motion flip her around so her pert ass is in my face. “Spread those thighs for me,” I growl, slapping one cheek, and she moans loudly, parting her legs wide enough to let me see the sheen on her intimate flesh.

  “You are so goddamn gorgeous,” I groan and slam her against me. With both hands I give her hips a firm rock, encouraging her to fuck my face, seizing her pleasure as she works over my cock, taking every inch that I have to give.

  I flex my tongue over her swollen folds, making sure her clit is well-attended, and when her breath grows ragged, I press harder, giving her hearty licks, writing my name on the soaked, silky skin, marking my territory with flourishing circles and swirls, an intimate calligraphy.

  As she falls apart, I plunge my tongue deep inside her tight hole, ravage her with smooth strokes, hinting at the delirious euphoria that is about to be hers.

  “Nikolai, oh, God, Nikolai,” she gasps, rising up to sit on the back of her heels, spastically jerking then grinding over me in a slow, rhythmic, figure-eight fashion. “Oh God! Your Highness!” She gasps. “Fuck me harder!”

  I could come this very second. Sweet, sweet Kate has one filthy mouth. And I obediently comply. The bed shakes. Someday I’ll control this entire land, but right now this firecracker is begging to be ruled. Before I take what is mine, I plunge my full face against her pretty pink pussy.

  Tonight is about the journey, not the destination. I lick and fuck her until she is dripping and on all fours, hot, tangy juices running down my chin. Two orgasms. Three. Fuck. I lose count of how many I give her. But now my cock is so thick, the need so intense, that I need to join her in this mad passion. Ours won’t be a mindless rutting. A fleeting pleasure.

  I freeze as the realization takes hold.

  There is a chance that entering her will tear asunder the very fiber of my soul.

  Kate

  I don’t know what’s come over me. I’ve never spoken like that. Not to Jean-Luc. Not to anyone. But this man—this man turns me into my basest self. A woman in need who will do or say whatever it takes to satisfy the hunger. And I hunger for Nikolai Lorentz, with everything that I am.

  He lifts his head from between my legs, his dark hair a beautiful mess of ravaged waves.

  “I need you,” he says, his voice strained. “Fuck, Kate. I need you.”

  There is something akin to pain in his words, an ache I’m not expecting, and the animal in me gives way to something else entirely so that all I can do is nod.

  He stands from the bed, and despite how hard I already came, I need him inside me. I need him, too.

  How can any good come of feeling like this?

  He disappears into the
bathroom, and I hear the faucet run. When I can’t stand not knowing how long it will be until he returns, I follow him in there, not caring that he knows how desperate I am to keep him close.

  His head dips toward the sink as he splashes water over his face again and again. I rest my palm on his back, and he shudders.

  “Nikolai,” I say softly.

  He straightens enough for me to see his beautiful face in the mirror.

  “I thought I could clear my thoughts. I thought I could cleanse away this feeling.” He shakes his head. “But I need you,” he says again to our mirrored selves. “I’m not supposed to need anyone.”

  I see the foil packet on the counter, grab it and tear it open.

  “Look at me,” I say. “No hiding behind a reflection.”

  The muscles in his shoulders and back flex as he moves, and when our eyes meet, I don’t hesitate as I roll the condom down his thick, pulsing length. He sucks in a breath.

  “Remember,” I say. “No matter what sort of mask you give to the rest of the world, I see you.”

  As much as this man turns me to animal, I shift to caring lover just as quickly. Because who truly takes care of a prince?

  He dips his head toward mine but stops before our lips barely touch.

  “You’re the only one who can.”

  And then he kisses me with such tenderness I have to fight back tears. I rise to the tips of my toes, and he nudges my entrance. I grab the base of his shaft and urge him inside. His palms clamp against my thighs, and he lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist as he sinks into my warmth, and a growl tears from his lips.

  Nikolai walks with me like this until we’re back at the bed. He lays me on the elegant silk sheet and climbs over me, burying himself as deep as he can go.

  I cry out. Not from pleasure or pain but from the undeniable ache of both. The walls around my heart crumble to dust, letting my prince inside.

  My prince.

  “My prince.” This time I say it aloud as he slides out and back in again—slow, controlled, deliberate. He claims me with each thrust. Heart and soul.

  My prince.

  My prince.