Words would not form. Just a soft purr slipped out as he glided the sheer mesh over her pointed foot, then up her calf to her quivering thigh. His dark eyes smoldered as he ran his finger inside the lacy band. Of their own volition her thighs parted, offering him access.
A regretful expression appeared as he shook his head and raised her other foot. He stroked her skin until she fought not to come.
After both stockings were in place he fitted her feet into perfect supple leather that would be wearable for hours even with the silver stiletto heels.
She stood and the bathrobe fell open. His eyes skimmed up her legs and stopped at the triangle of curls she needed him to stroke before continuing to the rubies in her navel.
He reached out a hand, then stopped and rocked back on his heel. He was a beautiful man who held her in a web of constant desire.
“You must get dressed, Lacey.” Dragan glanced at his gold Tissot. “The car will be here any moment.”
Not wanting to end the euphoria, but knowing she had no alternative, she nodded and reluctantly walked to the bedroom.
Staccato taps on the outer door convinced Dragan his home had become a delivery warehouse.
“Tomas said to bring this right up to you, sir.” A skinny bellman handed him a smashed suitcase with a pair of bright pink yarn balls attached to the handle.
“Děkuji.” His curt thank you went unnoticed by the young man who edged to the side for a better look into the suite. Dragan cleared his throat.
“You are welcome, sir.” The boy bobbed his head.
“Is there something else you need?”
“No, sir, unless…”
“Go back to your duties. I am sure Tomas will supply you with more interesting people to visit tonight.” With that, he closed the door and hoisted the bag to the hall table.
Lacey’s bad humming carried to him as he unpacked for her.
He pulled out garment after chic tailored garment and hung them in the closet. He cocked an eyebrow at the contrast with the ridiculous costumes from her first bag. Lacey Blake was certainly a lady of contradictions.
“So your upscale digs come with valet service, eh?”
Dragan turned from his task to a woman any man would be proud to have on his arm. Her long hair was upswept into a mass of curls and offered a lickable view of her graceful neck. The ruby earrings dangling from her delicate lobes reminded him of the one in her navel. Glancing down her trim form, he had to stop himself from reaching for her and staying in for the night. The dress enveloped her body in a way that made him jealous of the fabric. He had no choice but to skim his eyes lower to the slit at the side. A groan rose in his throat. Kersati, he hated the obligation to attend tonight’s dinner.
She pivoted. His cock lurched at the sight of her firm ass and no panty line.
“We never thought about a coat!” Her horrified expression made him laugh.
“Look in the closet.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. She turned and flung open the double doors. “This wasn’t here before.”
“A small surprise for you.” He reached around her and pulled out a short black cashmere jacket, the fabric soft as her creamy skin.
With the elegance of a queen, she draped the wool over her arm and walked to the door.
The elevator ride was the shortest of her life. She no more wanted to attend this soiree than she wanted to have a frontal lobotomy or see that asswipe Brad again. Right then she would have given up her precious rubies if allowed to return to the shelter of the suite.
Lacey had no Czech money should the need arise. Mama had always told her to have at least cab fare whenever she went out. Especially if she was with a man.
She sucked it up and was primed for another confrontation with pain-in-her-ass Tomas. Words failed the twit as he seemed to have swallowed his tongue, but his eyes were in overtime as they darted between her and Vic. The delight from his stunned reaction switched her mood to feisty.
“Hey, Tommy, you up for doing a little change thing here?” She bit her upper lip as his eyes bugged from their sockets.
“Madam.” He cleared his throat and fumbled with the few dollars she laid on the clutter-free counter. “Of course. Whatever you require.”
She tidied the short stack of bills, then slid them across the granite top and smirked when he dropped them to the rubber mat. He finally composed himself enough to return a fistful of koruna that made her believe she was a wealthy woman.
“You are unmerciful, young woman.” Dragan relieved her of the new jacket and laid it across her shoulders, then whispered in her ear, “A spanking tonight will teach you to behave.”
A whirlwind of tingles zipped through her as an image of her naked and spread over his big thighs popped into her mind.
“Ciao, Tommy. You have a good evening and remember to breathe.” Lacey waved a hand over her shoulder as she walked to the revolving door and fought the urge to do a generous butt wiggle.
Chapter Six
Lacey stepped through the arched doorway into a DreamWorks production, and if not, the décor and architecture certainly took her back more than a few centuries. A throng of people, dressed as if royalty would make a grand entrance any moment, milled about the candlelit ornate ballroom while the soft strains of Mozart drifted across the long narrow room from a hidden string quartet. Young men in green-and-gold livery discreetly wove through the clustered elite. Their silver trays, balanced with precision on one hand, were relieved of champagne flutes by white-gloved gentlemen while the diamond encrusted ladies selected canapés from myriad silver platters that just as silently appeared from another contingent of waiters.
Dragan held her elbow and guided her away from the grinning dowagers who tried to converge on them. He maneuvered her through the crowd to a far corner as he whisked two flutes from a passing waiter and handed her one.
“I want you to know I am happy you are here with me.” He tapped his glass against hers. “You are an amazing woman who has saved me tonight.”
Words caught in her throat as chimes rang out, announcing dinner.
A silver-haired maitre d’ stepped forward and rattled off a barrage of Czech. Dragan took her arm and followed the older man to a round table in the center of the room. Their tablemates stood at attention while the server pulled out Dragan’s chair, then hers, which was a strange order under any conditions.
She took a moment to hike up her skirt a bit to avoid nasty creases and plunk her rear onto the brocade upholstered chair. But Dragan hadn’t waited for her. For a man who was so formal at his hotel, he certainly failed in public. After they were seated the other men assisted their companions while waiters scurried laying crisp linen napkins onto the ladies’ laps. The room quieted; even the staff turned to stone.
Dragan lifted his stemmed glass, the white wine reflecting the flames from the many candelabras strategically placed on the tables, and nodded to the other diners. They raised their glasses in a murmured toast and waited until he sipped the pale liquid.
Chilled dishes arrived, teetering on the arm of a rigid young server. His hand shook as he laid the golden plate, with a single large prawn and a sliver of pate on top a bed of watercress, before Dragan. The man clicked his heels, then made his way around the other guests at their table.
Posture perfect and a pasted smile on her face, she nodded to the beanpole man on her right and cut into the seafood as something cold crawled along her left thigh and edged under the slit. She wiggled just enough to knock the creature away as she hoped it wasn’t anything with claws or teeth. A set of strong fingers pressed into her and held her in place.
“Enjoying your starter?”
His hand glided higher as she swallowed prawn and a groan.
“I am,” Dragan said with a wry grin.
“Smartass,” Lacey
hissed between clenched teeth. She raised her napkin with one hand and shoved at his with her other. Vic shot her a wry grin she could have cheerfully slapped off his face.
Waiters retrieved the almost empty plates while another wave marched in with bowls of aromatic mushroom soup. A few spoonfuls later, she blinked hard to fight off the drowsiness from her long flight and their torrid sex. Those warm fingers moved higher along her thigh and edged to the inside, arousing her mind and body.
Somewhere in the fog of excellent food and a raging libido, Lacey grasped that no one ever ate until Dragan lifted his fork or spoon. Conversations were stilted, but since the few words were in Czech, Lacey assumed this was their custom.
“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle.” Her soft-spoken dinner neighbor bumped into her shoulder as he stooped to gather his dropped napkin and stared right into her lap. An attendant swooped in with a fresh cloth before the Frenchman commented and saved her from embarrassment. She was convinced the entire dining room now knew exactly what she and Vic were doing.
“Remember what I said about scientists away from their laboratories,” Vic crooned in her ear while his finger drew dizzying circles along her leg.
“Madam.” A waiter set a stemmed glass of sorbet at her place. More than anything, she wanted to cram that icy raspberry ball right between her legs.
The next course arrived. A beautiful aroma of thyme and rosemary wafted up as the plates laden with moist roast pork. Dragan had the courtesy to remove his hand to cut a portion. Lacey let go a relieved sigh, even though she missed the intimate contact, and prayed he’d finally behave. Yet there was something incredibly sexy about him fondling her in public. Jesus, she really had spent too much time with Brad.
She peeked at Vic as he chatted with the elderly lady on his left. No way could she compare this refined man to the scourge who had treated her worse than maggots on a dead body.
He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk as his fingers returned to their old tricks. This time he upped the ante as they dipped inside her thigh-high and snapped the elastic band.
“Lovely evening, do you not agree?” A wicked grin appeared.
If only she had the willpower to stop his luscious torment and control her rigid nipples scraping against the silk bodice.
A soft ripping sound echoed in her ears. Her eyes widened and she was afraid to look down.
“Stop.” She smiled as if they were sharing a fun moment, all the while praying her imagination had played a trick. “The damn gown is falling apart.”
He shook his head and beamed in a way that made her want to reach over and whip his cock free.
“Do not be concerned.” He chomped on his roasted potatoes without a care. “It is only a few threads.”
“Says you.” She chugged her wine to cool her temper while his hand crept closer to her wet clit.
Need blossomed again under his talented manipulations. She forced herself to mentally list the various fabrics used to decorate the banquet room to no avail. Her throbbing vagina ached for his cock inside and pumping hard until she came.
Turnabout is fair play.
She slid her hand to his thigh and caressed the fine wool trousers as she inched closer to the only dessert that would satisfy her.
A steel band trapped her wrist.
“This evening is difficult enough, Lacey, without you making it harder.” He had the grace to blush at the double entendre.
Course after delicious course made its way to them until she thought she would burst before dessert arrived. But the over-sized plates set with mini-éclairs and drizzled with a chocolate web were too tempting to pass up.
Whenever the waiters stepped away, Vic’s fingers worked their magic. He massaged closer to her nub and tickled against her damp hairs. She gripped her dessert spoon like a lifeline and stifled a groan. God, she wanted him. Her legs spread of their own volition to give him better access.
His talented fingers slid between her wet folds.
Up and down.
Down and up.
Rubbing against her clit as pressure built in her abdomen.
She shifted her hips.
Squirmed to shove his hand inside her.
Arched her hips—
“Are you comfortable?” he murmured as if he were discussing the weather.
Bastard.
She slammed her thighs closed and was elated when he winced. A sip of wine and a silent toast to her Thigh Master appeased her conscience.
“So you think you can best me.” A sly smile appeared as he rubbed his now free fingers along the side of his water glass.
She batted her eyelashes, then turned to the Frenchman who had his mouth stuffed with éclairs.
A jolt shot through Lacey when Vic’s fingers went for the gold. She gripped the edge of the chair. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he neared the magic G-spot and kneaded against her wall.
She had to stay still.
She couldn’t sit still.
Her legs flopped apart, and she bit the inside of her cheeks to stop the scream in her throat.
And then she was empty. Void. His fingers gone.
“To be continued later.” His breath, a cool mixture of wine and seasonings, tickled along her hot neck.
A tinkle of crystal quieted the subdued group, and Lacey glanced to the head table. A smiling aged man stood. Two robust tuxedoed attendants clasped the gentleman’s thin frame under the arms and held him steady.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I am Arnost Bedrich, your host for this illustrious event.” The clipped words proved English wasn’t his first language. He paused to sip from his glass. His eyes twinkled over the rim as he caught Lacey’s and he winked. A moment later, the helper to his left relieved him of the stemware, and the old man continued, “Thank you for attending our banquet to honor our generous benefactor.”
A smattering of applause collected volume as the elegant guests twisted on their fragile chairs toward the center table. Lacey glanced at Dragan who was welded to the rococo seat with his hand clamped to her thigh.
“It is with great pleasure I introduce to you Crown Prince Dragan Petrovič, first descendent from the Royal Karadjordjevic Dynasty of Serbia.”
What the fuck?
Lacey choked on her wine, convinced she was dreaming. Dragan patted her back with guilt stamped on his broad features. The deafening ovation finally abated when he pushed his chair back and stood.
“Please, Your Highness, will you come forward?” The gnome grinned as if he’d pulled off the greatest coup since Castro conned the Cubans.
“Arnost, I really…” He glanced at the majordomo type who stepped to his side to escort him.
Her jaw unhinged as he marched to the head table. What the hell had just happened?
Chapter Seven
“Okay, I want to know what took place in there.” Lacey hooked her thumb back at the castle rather than jab it in his eye. “Tell me about this royalty stuff. Are you really a prince? Why didn’t you tell me what the hell you were getting me into? Why would you take a complete stranger as your date on such an important night? You don’t know me. I could have made a fool of you.”
Dragan handed his gift plaque to the limo driver while rattling off a slew of Czech, then glanced at her over his shoulder, a shock of black hair dipping across his eye. “Do you mind if we walk back to the hotel? It is not far and I could use the exercise.”
A million stars twinkled in the inky sky, and a soft breeze drifted from the river, a perfect night for a romantic stroll. Maybe he did need some space after the big event, a sort of return to reality now that his crown was shoved back on the shelf. She linked her arm in his. “Yes, as long as you talk with me.”
“Are you upset because I teased you unmercifully?”
His sincere tone wouldn’t sway her from getting answers.
“Leave the sex out of it for once.” She jerked her arm away, but he held on. “I know that’s a game you love to play. How about right now you just be straight with me?”
“You deserve that.”
They started up the sloped cobblestone road toward the Charles Bridge or Karlův Most as he had said earlier. A deafening silence filled the air as he searched for words. Below, a schooner clanged a bell as it passed under the massive structure where waves from the Vltava slapped against the stone pillars. They toppled over the rocks along the shore and stilled before Dragan spoke again.
“I am from nobility, but it means nothing in this day. Petrovič was a clan chief who founded the government and dynasty line almost three centuries ago. My family ceased to reign when illegal Communists backed a Constituent Assembly and abolished the monarchy just before the end of the war. Even though the people continued to recognize the royal family, it became unsafe for everyone.”
She squeezed his arm, but it was a meager show of compassion.
“My father left Serbia, escaped really, when the Communists placed Tito in power. He was but a young boy when he arrived in Prague. All his life he foolishly believed he would return to his homeland and rule. Of course that never happened.” His jaw worked hard as he scanned the small blocks beneath his feet.
“I’m sorry for overreacting.” She was embarrassed for intruding on his life. After all, this was a fuckfest for her, not a relationship. “Dragan, you don’t have to explain.”
“I want to tell you. The only other person who knows of my life is Arnost.”
Lovers passed by locked in each other’s arms. She envied their happiness.
“My mother came from a noble family here in Prague. They met and married. After many long years passed I appeared. By that time, tuberculosis had consumed my father. He died when I was young. That left Mother and me poor in an impoverished country.” He stopped and leaned onto the balustrade, the lantern lamps flickering against his tight jaw. “Father had studied science all his life, believed in it as if it were a religion. When I graduated university and earned more money than I needed, I decided to donate some in his name for a few specific environmental projects that appealed to me. The plaque is a kindness; a sign of gratitude for all my family has done to further scientific efforts in the past through today.”
Czech Mate Page 4