by Parker Grey
“All right,” Thomas finally says, releasing my dress and stepping back. “Time to turn around.”
I do.
Then I gasp, both my hands flying to my mouth, because I look amazing in this dress. I don’t know whose it is or where Thomas found it, but it fits me perfectly — or at least it does now, with a line of safety pins going up my back.
It’s shimmery blue, the front low cut enough to show just a hint of cleavage without going overboard. It hugs my waist, dips low in the back, and somehow makes my butt look incredible.
I just stand there, open-mouthed, staring at myself.
“Well, how fabulous am I?” Thomas asks, grinning, arms crossed over his chest.
“So fabulous,” I breathe. “How did you do this?”
“I told you he was magic,” Flynn says.
“Baby, you said that?” Thomas asks.
“You know I did.”
They kiss quickly while I stare at myself, still blown away. As someone who hardly ever wears make up and only owns two skirts, I can’t believe I’m actually looking at myself in the mirror.
“The prince ain’t gonna know what hit him,” Thomas says. “But there’s one more thing.”
Panic stabs through my heart. My makeup’s done, my hair is up, and I look way better than I ever have in my life.
Thomas disappears again, and I trade a glance with Flynn.
“What’s the one more thing?” I ask.
He looks me up and down.
“Shoes, girl,” he says. “You can’t go in there barefoot.”
Thomas comes back into the dressing room, then steps up to me and holds out a pair of shoes.
Shoes is an understatement. These are something more than shoes, because every millimeter except the sole is totally covered in sparkling white crystal. Every time they move they shine like a disco ball, and my mouth drops open yet again.
“These are all I could find that might fit you,” he says. “Women’s size seven isn’t too common among drag queens.”
He’s got a point. I take the shoes, put them on the ground, and step into them, praying.
They fit. Perfectly. They’re not even too high, and they stay on my feet even after I take a few steps, carefully holding my skirt up.
“I think we did great,” Flynn says to Thomas.
“I think maybe we should get to go to the ball just to see how great we did,” Thomas says. “Give me ninety minutes and Charlize LaCroix can be in attendance. Though she’d probably steal the prince away for her very own, so scratch that.”
He winks at me. I’m just grinning like an idiot, because even though this ball is probably stupid and the prince won’t look at me twice, I’m really excited to get my way despite Livia.
“Thanks, guys,” I say. “I don’t know how I can return the favor.”
“Return it by leaving that witch behind and sleeping on my couch,” Flynn says.
Chapter Fourteen
Grayson
Every time I turn around at this damned ball, there’s another eligible bachelorette standing there, looking at me with big does eyes, like she’s just waiting for me to lose my mind and fall in love with her.
They’re not all ugly. They’re not even all bad-looking. Some are pretty hot, exactly the kind of girl I’d have gone after a few weeks ago.
But they’re never the waitress. Not even once.
And it’s a little past ten, meaning no new guests are arriving at this ball.
She’s not here. She’s not coming. This ball has been the talk of the entire kingdom for a week now, so the only way she didn’t come is if she didn’t want to.
But still, I can’t stop thinking about her. The way she looked at me, the way her lips moved when she spoke. Her ass under her uniform as she walked away, or even better, when she bent over a table to clear dishes.
I keep dancing with other girls at this ball because I have to, but I’m just thinking about the waitress. Her pretty lips around my cock, the taste of her in my mouth.
All the ways I could take her and make her moan. What I wouldn’t give to feel her tight, hot wetness around my cock while she screamed my name.
I head over to the bar, but it doesn’t help. The second I have a drink in my hand, someone new wants my attention.
“Your Highness,” says a woman’s voice, and I turn.
It’s the Duchess of Montagne, who’s broad, tall, and shall we say a very commanding presence.
“Duchess,” I say, nodding my head slightly as she curtsies.
“Have you had the pleasure of meeting my daughters yet tonight?” she goes on, still imperious-sounding as ever.
“I’ve not,” I say, taking a sip of my scotch. I’m vaguely familiar with her daughters — all six of them — but I’ve never been able to keep them straight or even come anywhere close to remembering their names. It doesn’t help that they all start with R.
“This is Rachelle,” she starts. “Twenty-seven, quite marriageable. She’ll be inheriting most of her father’s fortune and her monthly courses are exceedingly regular, which bodes well for her fecundity—”
Rachelle instantly turns bright red and looks at the floor, not that her mother notices.
“—She’s still a virgin, our family doctor checks her hymen annually—”
Rachelle closes her eyes, and I can’t help but feel completely awful for her, and I’m about to interrupt her mother just to spare the poor girl, when a flash of blue catches my eye, and I stop.
For the first time in over an hour, someone’s entering the ballroom. It’s someone new, someone who’s never been here before, judging by the way she looks around as she opens the huge, heavy door and peeks in.
Right away, the doormen scurry over. One holds the door open, and the other bows to her, taking her hand and welcoming her to the ball.
I can’t see her face, but somehow, I know it’s her. I just do. It’s like she lights up the entire room just by entering it.
The Duchess is still talking, but I have no idea what she’s saying. I walk past her in a trance, handing her my drink, making my way toward the waitress who’s still looking around, half overwhelmed and half bewildered.
Watching her, I can barely breathe. She’s in a shimmering blue dress that shows off every curve of her incredible body flawlessly, from her full, perky breasts, to the notch of her waist to the curve of her ass that’s just made for grabbing.
Already, I want to tear it off of her. I want to pin her against the wall, throw her legs over my shoulders, rip off her panties and taste her right here, right now, and I don’t give a single damn that everyone is watching.
As I move toward her, she catches my eye and stops. Just freezes, right here in the middle of the ball. I can feel all eyes on me, everyone at this thing wondering who the hell this girl that I’m approaching could possibly be, but I don’t care.
The waitress came. I found her again, and there’s absolutely nothing that’s going to stand in the way of me making her mine.
She turns toward me as I approach, and I smile at her, holding out my hand. She swallows, just barely licking her bottom lip as she does, and I swear I go rock-hard in a second.
The waitress puts her hand in mine, still staring at me, wide-eyed. I think she’s holding her breath, until at the very last second, she remembers to curtsy.
I kiss her hand, soft and delicate. Just like her.
“May I have this dance?” I ask.
Chapter Fifteen
Ella
I have a theory about all this.
I think I’m on drugs.
It’s the only thing that makes any sense. A week ago, right before Prince Grayson and his friends walked into my diner and ordered breakfast, someone must have drugged me. Maybe Flynn, maybe Livia, maybe the other waitress working that day, I don’t know.
But they drugged me, and then I met the prince. And then the prince propositioned me in the diner, and I ran away, and now I’m hallucinating everything about tonight
: Livia ruining my dress, Flynn saving me, Charlize/Thomas outfitting me, the whole nine yards.
And now I’m hallucinating Prince Grayson smiling at me and kissing my hand. I’m hallucinating him asking me to dance while every other woman in the entire kingdom stares at the two of us.
I’m hallucinating the band striking up a waltz, one of his hands on my waist and the other in mine as he leads me across the dance floor. Thank God my father paid for dancing lessons for me before he died.
“I didn’t think you were going to come,” he says as we start whirling around the dance floor.
That takes me by surprise.
“You thought about whether I was going to come?” I ask, the words out of my mouth before I can think of something better to say.
Step, step, whirl.
“I did,” he says. “I’ve been trying to find you ever since you turned me down at the diner.”
My stomach clenches, and I feel the heat rush to my face. I look away, over his shoulder, at the champagne fountain on the far side of the ballroom.
Prince Grayson just laughs.
“I threw a fucking ball to find you, and I don’t even know your name,” he goes on, whirling me again. “I’ve thought about almost nothing for a week except ten thousand ways to make you orgasm, and I don’t even know your name.”
I clear my throat, my face even hotter. Something else is hot too, something liquid and writhing deep inside me. No one has ever talked to me like this before, and... I think I like it.
“It’s Ella,” I say.
“Ella. Beautiful,” he says. “Too beautiful to be working as a breakfast waitress.”
“Someone’s got to do it, haven’t they?” I ask, finally finding my voice. “I won’t be a breakfast waitress forever.”
“Tell me, Ella,” he says. “What do you do when you’re not a breakfast waitress?”
I think for a moment. Besides Flynn and now Thomas, no one really knows about my weird situation. Working so much and then coming home just to work more kind of puts a damper on my social life, to say the least, and I’m always wary of what people will think.
“I’m a housekeeper,” I say lightly. “I work for a noble family with two daughters.”
For some reason, Prince Grayson just grins at that, and suddenly, I’m embarrassed.
“My father died when I was young and I had to make my way in the world early,” I say, getting defensive. “I did finish high school, and I just haven’t had a chance to go to college or anything yet, but I’d like to.”
“I wasn’t laughing at you,” he murmurs. “I was laughing at the fact that I threw an entire ball to find a girl who’s a part time waitress, part time housekeeper while every duchess in the kingdom is practically launching her daughters at me.”
“That sounds dangerous,” I say without thinking.
“What does?”
The music is slowing now, the song coming to a close. Prince Grayson pulls me a little closer, his hand tightening on my waist.
“Having women launched at you,” I say.
“Don’t worry, I can handle myself just fine,” he murmurs, pulling me closer again.
Now our bodies are pressed together, much closer than a waltz dictates, and suddenly I can feel his heat through his formal outfit.
Not only that, I can feel something else, something thick and hard and massive pressing against my belly, and it takes me a moment to realize what it is.
At the exact moment that I realize what’s happening, Prince Grayson leans down, his lips close to my ear. I can feel virtually everyone else in this ballroom staring at us.
But as he whispers, shivers run up and down my back. A river of fire flows through me, and I remember why I came.
I came because for a week I’ve been getting myself off, fingers inside my tight channel wishing it was him.
I came because, to my amazement, I regret not letting Prince Grayson bend me over the bathroom sink at work and take my virginity right then and there.
And I came because my life is dull and boring, punctuated by moments of stupidity and cruelty from my family, and this is for me. I want to do something sexy and exciting, something that I want to do for once.
I want the prince, and no one and nothing can stop me.
“Ella,” he says, his lips brushing my ear as my eyes slide closed. “May I have another dance?”
Chapter Sixteen
Grayson
We dance again and again. Other people try to cut in, but I simply refuse them.
Ella came, and I’m going to dance with her. It’s as simple as that.
When I don’t think I can dance another step, I take her hand and lead her from the dance floor. Though the crowd is thinning, various people — a Countess, an Earl, a Baron — try to get my attention, but I brush them off as politely as I can.
This will be all over the tabloids tomorrow, but I don’t really give a shit. Prince Grayson Dances Several Times with Same Woman won’t upset even my father as a headline.
We’re nearly out of the ballroom when yet another pompous nobleman steps into my way.
“Your Highness,” he begins. “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Lady Ardana of...”
Suddenly, Ella’s hand tightens in mine. I look over at her, the nobleman still chattering away about his daughter, and Ella is rigid, her whole body tense, and she’s staring at the other end of the ballroom.
There’s a woman staring right back, and she sends a sharp tingle of recognition through me, though I’m having trouble placing her. She’s flanked by two younger women who are both fiddling with their hair and staring down at their phones, but the older woman in the middle is just watching Ella.
And Ella is motionless, staring right back. Alarm bells are going off in my head, because even though I don’t know why they’re staring at each other, I don’t like the way this woman’s looking at Ella.
My Ella.
I straighten my spine. I’m no longer even pretending to listen to this nobleman prattle on and on, I’m just full-force glaring back at this woman, tightening my hand on Ella’s.
“It’s an honor, Your Highness,” another woman’s voice says, and I finally turn.
A girl — probably the nobleman’s daughter, though I’ve clearly not been paying attention — curtsies very, very low, giving me a view straight down her cleavage.
I don’t even glance, I just nod at her.
“Likewise,” I say, and turn away with Ella.
“Who is that?” I growl when we’re out of earshot.
Ella just shakes her head, her cheeks turning faintly pink. Rage simmers inside me, though I don’t quite understand why.
“Don’t worry about it,” she says, her voice soft and gentle.
“I’m going to go have a word with her,” I say, and start for the woman.
“Please don’t!” Ella says, grabbing my hand in both of hers.
I stop. People around us are watching us like hawks, but I ignore them.
“I’m having such a nice time,” she says, her blue eyes searching mine. “Can’t we just leave the ball like we were going to and go...”
Ella turns bright pink, all the way from her collarbones to her forehead, and I swallow hard. His Royal Hardness is suddenly at full mast, so rigid and insistent that I can practically feel the seams on these pants ripping open.
Instantly, I’ve forgotten about the blonde woman, and I smirk at Ella, pulling her closer in to me. My hard cock brushes up against her, and the sensation sends a tremble through my whole body.
“Go where?” I whisper, teasing her.
She swallows, looking down.
“I just thought... somewhere else?” she whispers. “Somewhere that we could be alone?”
She doesn’t have to ask twice. I practically barrel for the doors, knocking nobles out of my way left and right. I’m already thinking about the things I’m going to do to this perfect, luscious girl, the way I’m going to make her sigh and scream my name, and I don
’t give a damn who hears.
I push open the massive door, pull Ella through, and shut it behind us. The doormen stare, and though I have the urge to kiss her right then and there, I fight it because I don’t want our first kiss to be with two of my father’s servants gawking at me.
There’s a small, private hallway off the foyer, and I lead Ella in there, away from their eyes.
She gasps as I spin her around, take her by the waist, and push her against the wall.
“Is this why you came to the ball?” I murmur, pressing my body against hers.
She’s panting for breath, her perfect pink lips parted. Her tongue slides along the inside of her top lip, an unconscious gesture that makes my dick nearly explode.
“Is what why?”
“Because you wanted to take me up on my offer from last week,” I say, stroking her hip through the sparkling fabric with one hand. “Though now that you’re here, I plan on making this anything but quick.”
“I hadn’t forgotten,” she whispers. “But, Your Highness—”
“Grayson.”
“I wasn’t expecting this, I just came because it seemed like it would be fun, I really didn’t think you’d remember.”
I just chuckle.
“Well, I did remember,” I say, letting my lips graze her ear. “I remember the way you bit your lip when you took our order. I remember how hard I got watching your ass when you bent over the table. I remember wanting to hear you moan as you rode my cock, right there in the booth.”
I bite her ear gently, and she gasps.
“And I remember you turning me down so I had to fantasize about sinking my cock into your sweet little pussy for a week straight.”
Ella moves her hips against me unconsciously, and that’s all it takes.
I bend down and press my lips to hers, claiming her sweet, pink mouth. She kisses me back, her hands on my shoulders, her lips needy and hungry in a way that lights a nuclear fire inside me.
I swipe my tongue along her lower lip, and she moans softly as she opens her mouth and I plunder her with my tongue, tasting her, taking her. I kiss Ella nearly hard enough to bruise her but she kisses me back just as fiercely, her body moving against mine with an intensity that makes me think I might lose my mind.