Sexy Bachelor

by Maggie Monroe

  “Is that a problem?”

  The car careened as we exited, tipping her off balance. She leaned into me, her hair brushing against my shoulder as she pushed away to right her body.

  “A defensive American.” I rubbed my chin with my thumb. “Tell me your name.”

  “Seven-seven-seven,” she whispered. She didn’t make eye contact. “But Sapphire is the other one they gave me.”

  “Your real name,” I corrected her.

  “I thought we weren’t supposed to do that.”

  I reached for a bottle of water in the bar and grabbed a second one for her. I twisted the lid from the top and put it in her hands.

  “Do you know who I am?” I asked blankly.

  She nodded. “I was told you’re one of the royals.” She took a sip.

  “One of the royals?” I scoffed. “I must be losing my reputation around here.” I turned to face her squarely. “I’m the royal.”

  She fidgeted with the bottle cap. “I know. I was just trying not to make a big deal about it. Maybe I’m not supposed to acknowledge you’re the king of Galona. I-I’m not sure.”

  “At least you know my title. You know I have certain exemptions. One of those specifically deals with the name clause. What’s your name?”

  “Molly. Molly Washington.”

  I chuckled. “It doesn’t get any more American than that.”

  Her long lashes lowered a second time. The gesture did something to me. I raised her chin until she lifted her eyes to mine. Her gaze cut right through me. I knew now why they called her Sapphire.

  “Tell me. Are you scared of me Molly Washington?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “And why not?” My hand circled over the creaminess of her skin, my fingers pressing into the softness of the back of her neck.

  Her chest rose, sending her breasts forward. God, they were unbelievable. Ripe and soft. My eyes trailed upward again, making heated eye contact.

  We drove farther up the hillside. The lights of Freychon blanketed the ground below us.

  The shield between our seat and Georgan gave me absolute privacy. My mouth grew hungry for her. Her eyes darted back and forth.

  “Because you’re the king,” she whispered. “You’re not scary.”

  I pressed my lips in a straight line. “And tonight? Why did you sign up for something like this? The Titan?”

  I ran my fingertips to the top of her spine, making my own road map to her shoulder. The back of my fingers slid along her arm.

  “My friend thought it was an urban legend,” she explained. “And when we were approached it seemed like something we couldn’t turn down.”

  “And do you still feel that way?” I asked. “Like you can’t turn it down?”

  “I signed the contract.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” My voice was cool and dark. “Do you want to be here, Molly Washington?”

  We turned into the back of the compound. The palace gates folded open.

  I looked at her more patiently than I ever had. As if I was a lion waiting for the gazelle to walk gingerly into the clearing. Was this girl willing to walk into the moonlight and expose herself to my hunger?

  “It’s one night. Your night. To be with the king. It won’t happen again. The Titan does not seek return tallies. So you must decide here and now what you want.” I saw her hesitation. “Georgan will drive you home. Or you can walk inside the palace with me.” I pointed to the top floor where a row of lights illuminated a set of windows. “See that block of rooms?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes followed my index finger.

  “Those are the king’s rooms. My rooms.”

  “There are so many. The whole floor is yours?”

  “Yes, but that one with the view of the ocean—that one, love is where I’ll take off all your clothes.” I pressed my finger along the hollow of her throat.

  Her pulse beat rapidly.

  “I’ll take you to my bed,” I promised.

  I heard her inhale quickly.

  Damn it. I was hard. My cock ached for her here and now. Had I ever wanted a woman so badly?

  The car slowed as we approached the tunnel to the private entrance.

  My patience had run out.

  “What is your decision? Are you going home, or do you want one night with the king?”

  6

  Molly

  I had never known the silence inside a car could be so deafening. My ears rang. My heart pounded irregularly. I could practically hear the blood rush between my ears.

  This morning I was working on my dissertation. I used notecards to sort the broader topics. They were scattered on the floor. I wore pajama pants and a tank top. My hair was twirled in a bun with a pencil crammed in the middle to hold the heaviest pieces in place.

  Brooklyn walked in, carrying a carton of lo mein noodles. “You have destroyed our living room.”

  “I know.” I sighed. “I’ll clean it up after I get the rest of this section nailed down.”

  “Let’s go get coffee,” she suggested.

  “I can’t. I don’t have time. Look at this disaster.” I covered my eyes with my palms.

  She tugged on my arm. “The notecards will be here when we get back. You need some fresh air. And preferably a change of clothes that isn’t pajamas or yoga pants.” She looked over my wardrobe disapprovingly.

  “Again. I don’t have time for real clothes. I’m in the middle of the most critical paper of my life.”

  I stumbled to my feet and stepped over the circle of index cards.

  “I know. I know. But caffeine will put some of that in perspective.” She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and shuttled me to my room where I shrugged off the pjs and changed into a cute mini skirt.

  I pulled the pencil from the bun and let my hair fall around my shoulders.

  I met Brooklyn at the door. “Better?”

  “God, yes. You look like a human girl,” she teased.

  I rolled my eyes. “One quick coffee. That’s it.”

  “Got it.”

  I had moved to Galona almost a year ago. The country was beautiful. An island the size of Connecticut floating off the western coast of France and just to the north of Spain. It was quintessential Europe. The food was incredible. The art. The music. The fashion. And my God, the wine was amazing. Only, I didn’t get to see much of it. I spent most of my time in the library at Freychon’s Literary Conservatory.

  Brooklyn, on the other hand, had dropped out of the program.

  We sat outside under the shade of a café umbrella and sipped espressos.

  “How’s the job hunt going?” I prodded.

  She shrugged. “I don’t think my skill set is appreciated here.”

  “Oh, really?” I laughed. “Employers aren’t jumping at the opportunity to hire an almost-expert of one specific classical poem that no one has ever heard of? You’re kidding.”

  “I know! I’m just so misunderstood.” She let out a dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes.

  “You could wait tables if you had to. Anyone can do that.”

  Her cup clinked against the saucer. “I’d rather not. I’m looking for something exciting. Something more challenging than taking cappuccino orders.”

  We had discussed this a few times. At some point, she was going to run out of money. “If you take a part-time job you might hear about another job. You could try it.”

  “But this is Galona. I want an adventure. A mindless job to pay the rent is exactly what’s waiting for me back in the States. This is my chance to forget responsibility for a while. To make some real memories.”

  Before I could respond, something blocked the blaring sun and our table darkened with shade. I looked up to see a man in a suit standing inches from my chair.

  “Hi.” Brooklyn and I smiled. I waited for him to continue his walk, but he pulled his sunglasses to the brim of his nose and pushed them firmly in place again.

  He nodded. “Are you two here alone?” he sp
oke with a clipped French accent.

  “Yes.” Brooklyn grinned.

  I kicked her under the table.

  “I have an invitation for you.”

  “What sort of invitation?” I asked.

  We were alone on the sidewalk. He spoke cautiously.

  “It is an exclusive invitation.”

  Brooklyn looked at me. I had no idea what that look meant. Did she understand his secret code?

  “Please tell me it’s what I think it is.” She looked up at the well-dressed man.

  One corner of his lips turned up. “Mademoiselle, it is a high honor to be invited. However, you and your friend must complete a brief interview.”

  “Interview?” I looked between them. What was this?

  “Yes. Yes, we’ll do it.”

  He retrieved a slip of paper from his jacket and placed it on the table. “The instructions are listed. Good luck.”

  He nodded and strolled toward the flower shop. The florist watered a basket of sunflowers out front.

  “Brooklyn, what in the hell was that about?”

  She flipped the card over. “Holy shit, Molly. We just got two tickets into The Titan.”

  “The what?”

  “I thought it was real, but I never was sure until now. But, of my God. It’s real. It’s real. And we’re going.”

  “You’re going to have to give me some information. Some weird random guy stops by and we’re suddenly going to a club I’ve never heard of?”

  She read the details on the card. “Ok. We have just enough time to get ready before we need to be there. It looks like the interview might take a few hours.”

  “What interview?”

  She finished her espresso. She was practically buzzing from caffeine and excitement. “Haven’t you ever had one of those fantasies where you thought if you could just meet Harry Chadsworth or run into Michael Stone even if it was only one night, you’d do it? You’d hook up? You’d dance? You’d do whatever he wanted, right?”

  I laughed. “They are Hollywood actors and I doubt they are in Freychon right now. Besides isn’t Harry engaged?” I was clueless about pop culture at this point. I only had time for my dissertation.

  “Forget Harry. He’s just an example. But I heard about The Titan. It’s where that can happen.”

  “Where what can happen?” I eyed her.

  “Where you can have your famous fantasy.”

  “That’s absurd. They are fantasies for a reason. They aren’t obtainable.”

  She shook her head. “No. There’s a club. It’s here. It’s in Freychon. And for one night we get one of those fantasies.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She leaned across the table. “I’m saying if you want to fuck the prince or the guy on the cover of GQ, tonight is your chance.”

  “No way.” I continued to shake my head, not believing a word she said.

  “It’s one night. No strings attached. The ultimate fantasy. This is life-changing, Molly.”

  I folded my arms. “It’s insane.”

  She looked over her shoulder, but the suited man was long gone by now. “He chose us. We might not pass the interview. But if we don’t go, we won’t know.”

  “Why would I even consider something like this?”

  “Come on, it’s been on my Galona bucket list ever since I heard about it. I just didn’t know if it was real. You have to do it with me. Think of the memory this night will give you. For the rest of your life you’ll be able to say you slept with a billionaire. And you got every fantasy you ever wanted. They have the money to make it happen. You’ll never see him again. He’ll never see you. Just a night of off the charts sex with an A-list celebrity. Doesn’t that interest you just a little bit?” She pinched her fingers together.

  “No one would ever know?”

  She shook her head. “Nope.”

  I twisted my lips together. “And we might not even make it through the interview process?”

  “Right. I’m sure it’s intense. But we have no way of knowing if we don’t at least try.”

  She held up the card. “Come on. You need a night to let loose. One night to leave the post-its and note cards and have fun with a hot guy.”

  I sighed. It sounded more luxurious than a bubble bath. It also seemed impossible. There was no way I’d make it through the interview.

  “Fine. But I’m just going to check the place out. And make sure you haven’t been duped into some scam.”

  Brooklyn squealed. “Yes! This is going to be amazing.”

  That was this morning.

  It seemed like days had passed since I made the decision to walk to The Titan.

  “I will not ask again.” The king’s voice was clipped.

  His fingers lingered on my skin, exploring with possessive pressure.

  There was something predatory in his stare. An iciness in his tone that made me shiver. But I wasn’t afraid. I was drawn to him when I should have been cautious. I was attracted to his high cheek bones and dark eyes when I should have been questioning my judgement. I was falling for the heat in his fingertips when I should have been pushing his hands away.

  My eyes locked on his. “I want my fantasy,” I answered.

  7

  Damon

  It was supposed to be her fantasy, not mine. But those words did something to me. I wanted to crush my lips against hers. Slide my hands between her thighs. Make her sweet voice moan in my ear while she came in my hand. Fuck. I was losing it.

  I held my composure while Georgan walked to open the door.

  “Good girl.” I breathed into her neck before releasing my hand. I felt her body tense.

  Tonight, needed to be savored. I had rushed it with other women. Fucked them and sent them home the next morning. But, I wanted to explore every inch of her body. Admire her curves and the pinkness of her skin. Taste her. Drink bourbon off her lips.

  My cock was hard, picturing her flush with sweat as I buried myself inside her. Her pillowy lips parted as she whimpered my name over and over.

  “Your highness,” Georgan announced as the door opened to the private entrance.

  He took Molly’s hand and she stepped from the car before I followed. I needed a second to settle my trousers. Tonight was about taking my time. Enjoying her. Pleasing her. Because there wasn’t going to be another night.

  The security detail led us inside. Molly glanced at me as we walked through the foyer.

  “We’ll take my elevator.”

  She nodded. “Ok.” Her voice was quiet.

  The first guard pressed the button and the carriage arrived on the first floor. We stepped inside.

  “Good night, sir.” They both nodded, folding their hands in front of their waists.

  “Good night.”

  I pressed the button to take us to the top floor of the palace.

  I turned to Molly. Her eyes look at me with such innocence. “Your fantasy begins now.”

  One hand snaked around her waist as the other cupped her chin. My lips crashed against hers with pent-up fury. The car lurched another floor. I held her tightly, slipping my tongue against hers, tasting her lips. Relishing in the heat. She purred softly as I nipped at the corners of her mouth. My hand twisted in her hair, tilting her upward, pressing the softness of her into me. I wanted to possess her warmth. As if I could be less cold. Less harsh. As if some of that sweetness I tasted on her tongue could somehow belong to me.

  The elevator dinged and the doors retracted. But I couldn’t stop kissing her. I couldn’t take a step away from her. My hands roamed over her body, annoyed there were clothes in the way.

  I backed up, dragging her with me into the main living quarters.

  Her breathing was erratic. Her lips searched for mine. Eager for the next kiss. Eager for what I wanted to give her.

  I kissed her slowly before turning for the light. I reminded myself to savor this girl. We were already moving with our foot pressed full speed on the pedal. I needed air. I was g
oing to have her on her knees in five minutes if I didn’t hit the brakes.

  “How about a drink?” I asked. “I know the rules at The Titan.”

  I reached for a crystal decanter. Alcohol would calm my cock for a few minutes.

  She nodded, still trying to catch her breath. “Yes. A drink would be good.”

  I poured two. “Welcome to one of my palaces.” I handed her the glass.

  “How many are there?” She looked around the room. Her cheeks were flushed.

  “Three,” I reported. “I don’t count the summer homes.”

  “I see. Slumming it in the summer?”

  I chuckled. She was sassier than I expected. “I suppose.”

  She walked around the room, observing the paintings.

  “These are beautiful. Do you collect?” she asked.

  “I do. Mostly abstracts, though you won’t see them in any other part of the palace.”

  “Why not?”

  I chuckled. “If it’s not Renaissance or a family portrait, I’m afraid it won’t meet the royal decorator’s criteria.”

  I walked next to her. Her eyes followed me.

  “You like them?”

  “Yes. Very much. It’s a fascinating collection.”

  I had collected the pieces from galleries around the world. She had excellent taste. I wondered what other things she might like.

  I chugged the bourbon.

  My eyes landed on hers. “Tell me, Molly. What shall it be tonight?”

  She blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “The fantasy. What do you want from it?”

  “Oh.” She clutched the bourbon with both hands. I noticed the pale pink on her nails. Everything about this girl was soft and innocent, even her damn nail polish.

  “You do have some idea, don’t you?”

  I tipped her chin toward me.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  I pulled her close, taking the glass from her grip. I kissed her, drinking the bourbon from her lips. I groaned, my cock hard and strong. Throbbing for this innocent girl in my hands.

  My lips trailed along her neck. I watched a vein pulse with heavy beats as I circled to her throat, my tongue flicking before I nipped with quick bites.

  “You had to have a fantasy you wanted to play out tonight. Something dirty? I strip you to your panties and tie you to the king’s bed, perhaps?” Her eyes flickered. There was something there. Something that surprised me. I continued. “Or maybe you’d rather take your clothes off while I watched, spread your legs and let me drink every last drop of you?” She inhaled sharply. I couldn’t help the devilish smile on my face. That was going to happen, I’d taste her. Know what she felt like coming hard in my mouth.