A Royal Pain (Montrovia Royals Book 1)

by Kit Kyndall

  “It’s been a long day, Mia.”

  She nodded slowly. “Stressful too.”

  It was my turn to nod. My fingers were by her mouth, and I deliberately ran the same one I’d had in her slit over her lower lip. To my surprise, her little pink tongue flicked out like a Siamese cat and licked my finger very briefly. Then I dropped my hand back to my side, releasing the breast I still held with my other. Now my hands were on the bed, and the only reason she stayed atop me was her own muscles holding her up. With a grin, though I didn’t exactly feel amused, I said, “I’m going to get some sleep now. See you in the morning.”

  For just a second, her expression betrayed confusion that morphed quickly to irritation. I did feel a genuine flash of amusement when her lips tightened, though her composure didn’t slip. She looked icily polite as she pried herself off my body, my erection following her as it jutted upward against the denim jeans barely containing it. I made no move to hide my arousal, and her gaze flicked there for a long second.

  I was convinced I saw longing in her eyes, but it was gone when she blinked and tilted her head higher, firming her lips.” Well, good night, Paxton.”

  She turned and left without another word, though she slammed the door harder than necessary. I was kind of relieved she did it now instead of in the morning, when my hangover would have a chance to kick in.

  Chapter Four

  Mia

  I couldn’t believe what had happened. I lay in my bed, a lone wall separating us, and wondered what had gone on. I’d been there for the whole thing, but I still wasn’t entirely sure what happened.

  That might have had a little bit to do with the third margarita I’d ordered, enjoying how much it relaxed me, and how fun everything had seemed after months of tension and worry. Mostly, it had to do with my annoying stepbrother, who somehow made me forget all about any kind of familial bond whenever I was near him. I found it disconcerting, since we’d only been around each other a few hours now, but it was enough for my body to be aching for him.

  I still was, and I would have completely surrendered to whatever he wanted to do to me. I couldn’t believe he had just stopped. I figured being a big, badass fighter guy, he would have just ravished me. To be honest, I had been kind of looking forward to that.

  Instead, he’d pulled that sexily bewildering move of touching my pussy and licking his finger, and then sent me on my way. It was like being in the candy shop and having to settle for one piece of peppermint when everyone else was getting the chocolate bars. Did I mention I hated peppermint?

  I wanted to hate him as much as I hated peppermint, but instead, I just ached with frustration, mixed with anger. No, I wasn’t angry so much as I was annoyed. I hated it when guys were ambiguous. They always liked to say girls played games, but in my experience, guys were the players. They never told you what they wanted, and I always guessed wrong. For example, I could have sworn Paxton wanted to fuck me, and I was just as eager to make it happen, but then he told me good night.

  I knew he had done the right thing, considering our parents were married and we were stepsiblings, but my aching slit didn’t feel like it was the right thing. With an annoyed groan of surrender, I reached into my nightstand to retrieve my favorite vibrator. It was a gold and purple frilly thing, with enough vibration to send me to Mars and back.

  I started to slide it between my folds, since I was naked in bed. Instead, a wicked idea came to me, and I went to the wall separating us. I knew from his room’s arrangement that his headboard was against that wall, and maybe he’d hear what I was doing. I flicked the setting to high, though I was usually content with just low, and slid it between my legs.

  I barely grazed my clit with it, because it was just too much too quickly, and I started moaning. I dipped the plastic and silicone rod in and out my pussy, rubbing my clitoral hood before plunging it deep inside me. Normally, I was a quiet masturbator, but tonight I let myself moan and hump against the wall. The vibrator was making the wall rumble too, and he had to know what I was doing. As an orgasm rushed over me, I let out a single drawn-out sound. “Paxton.”

  Satisfied, at least temporarily, physically and somewhat emotionally, I returned to my bed, put the vibrator back in the nightstand, and clicked off the light. Surprisingly, it was easy to fall sleep within a few minutes, and I’m pretty sure I had a self-satisfied smirk on my face as I drifted off.

  Chapter Five

  Paxton

  I had the world’s nastiest hangover. This was worse than the one time I had been at a sex party, and the guests paying for my services had insisted I drink shots off their bodies. Twelve shots later, I had been loose as a goose.

  The next morning, I’d been a fucked duck as I’d laid on the bathroom floor between hurling sessions. Fortunately, this time the hangover came only with a bit of nausea rather than waves of vomit. What it lacked in nausea, it made up for with headache. My head was pounding in a rhythmic tempo.

  Kind of like the rhythm of Mia’s fucking vibrator against my wall as she screwed herself last night, making sure I knew exactly what she was doing. She’d been lucky I hadn’t stormed into her room, tossed that toy across the room, and taken its place instead.

  To make matters worse, she sat across from me at the breakfast table, looking completely unaffected by the three margaritas she’d had. I was reluctantly impressed, considering she probably weighed no more than one hundred-ten pounds soaking wet, but she could hold her liquor. Maybe it was a Gaithway trait, so I wasn’t so impressed after all.

  I remembered Dirk Gaithway had a prodigious capacity for alcohol consumption, and he had certainly been a functioning alcoholic eleven years ago. I just prayed he was no longer functioning quite so well. Nothing would give me more satisfaction than seeing him ruined. No, I guess one more thing would. Being the one to ruin him. I’d love to beat him to a bloody mass, but I wouldn’t give in to that emotion.

  Being a fighter was about control. If you couldn’t control your emotions and your angry response, you’d get yourself killed or kill someone else. It hadn’t taken me long among the street fighting circles to realize that sure, anger could give you a little edge, but it also blunted your focus. You might use anger to get through to the next round, but if you couldn’t let go of it or use it constructively, it would always take you down. You would be TKO and left with a heap of anger that had no outlet.

  Fighting was good. It had been good to me, and it had taught me a lot. It had helped me cope with some of the worst shit in my life, and I wasn’t about to surrender all that hard-won control just for the brief pleasure of wailing on Dirk Gaithway. I had no doubt the fucker would try to ruin my life and send me to prison forever if I so much as laid a hand on him.

  “You look like hell,” said Mia, sounding entirely too damn cheerful.

  I raised my head just a little bit to glare at her, surprised when she set a cup of coffee in front of me. It was huge and black, and I sucked it down gratefully. “It’s been a while since I drank like that.” A long while. Alcohol could be a temptation I didn’t need, and when I was in training, there was no place in my diet for it anyway.

  I avoided that kind of stuff also because I didn’t want to turn to self-medicating. I’d found a much more productive outlet for my anger, pain, and rage. The gym or the octagon could provide more solace for me than the tallest glass of alcohol or the longest therapy session in the world.

  Shooting a glance at her, dressed as she was in a skimpy bikini covered with a diaphanous cover-up, I suspected there was one more thing that could feel just as good as fighting. Having Mia pinned under me as I fucked her hard, and then have her ride me as she fucked me just as hard, could probably be just as cathartic, or more so, than the longest fight or the roughest training session.

  I decided right then and there I was going to find out. I was still determined she would come to me with the request, because I wasn’t going to bear the brunt of guilt for our inappropriate relationship. I had to be her choice, b
ut I was going to nudge her that way. If she could tease, so could I.

  Chapter Six

  Mia

  Paxton really did look like hell, which I found reassuring. It seemed to indicate he didn’t make a habit of going out getting drunk, and if four margaritas could leave him this ravaged, he probably didn’t have as high a tolerance for alcohol as I had feared.

  That I was feeling so good surprised me, because the only other time I’d ever drank as much, I had ended up feeling pretty bad. Perhaps it’d been my impromptu orgasm against the wall, and my determination to seduce my stepbrother, that left me feeling cheery and with only a moderate headache. I didn’t even have any nausea, and I was able to wolf down a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs as Paxton looked on with disgust.

  After finishing eating, I wiped my mouth delicately with the linen napkin before laying it beside my now-empty plate. “The nurses are with your mom right now, and she’s having her morning bath and medications. I usually take a swim around this time of the day, and then I sit with her for a few hours. Would you like to swim until she’s ready for company?” I asked it with a hint of challenge as I let the cover-up slide off my shoulder.

  Though he looked just a little green under his tanned complexion, his lips firmed, and I could tell he had accepted my challenge before he ever spoke. “Bring it on, Mia.”

  I barely bit back a giggle as I speculated if he was talking about the swim or my attempts at seduction. I knew we were playing some kind of game, though I wasn’t entirely aware of all the rules. The fact we were even entertaining this idea was the biggest rule-breaker of all, at least by societal standards, and I found myself not caring.

  I was too used to worrying about what other people thought to maintain an image, but all that went out the window with Paxton. I would have done anything to be with him, and I needed to show him that.

  He’d finished his coffee, so I led him out to the pool and showed him where the guest swimwear was stored. He emerged from the cabana a few minutes later wearing a sinfully tight red Speedo that left nothing to the imagination. I swore I could see the ridge at the head of his cock.

  My bikini bottoms grew damp as my juices flowed down my thighs. It was a relief to strip off the floral cover-up and dive into the deep end of the pool. A splash a few feet away from me a moment later heralded his arrival, and we swam the first few moments intensely, as though both working off our excess energy.

  In my case, it was definitely pent-up sexual energy. I hadn’t really dated since Laura had gotten sick, and my whole life basically became taking care of her. I didn’t mind that or regret giving her those hours, but it had certainly put a crimp in my sex life. Before that, I had enjoyed an active social life and a few lovers, though I had a feeling being with Paxton would be completely different and way better than any of the guys I’d been with before.

  Slowly, our pace eased, and we made it to the middle of the pool, just sort of bobbing around and swimming leisurely rather than the intense workout from a few minutes before. My heart was pounding in my chest, but that was as much the proximity of Paxton as it was the physical exertion I had just put forth.

  I leaned against the side of the swimming pool, relaxing my body and allowing my legs to float freely. It was no accident that they were splayed wide, just like I didn’t think it was an accident when his hand found its way between my thighs.

  His fingers dipped into the side of my swimwear, and he made a low growl in his throat as his fingers slid right into me. I was wet and ready for him, and I shot a furtive glance around the pool to check for anyone who might be around. The staff was nowhere nearby, and my dad was either in his office at work or his home office. We had the place to ourselves, so I pumped my hips to encourage him to go deeper.

  He swam a bit closer, until our bodies were pressed together, and his hand snaked around my back. He pressed me nearer to him as his fingers continued to leisurely explore my pussy. I turned my head to meet his gaze and pressed against his hand, letting every bit of my desire for him showing in my expression.

  “You have such a tight, hot little pussy, don’t you, Mia?”

  With a small whimper, I nodded. It certainly felt tight around the two fingers he was thrusting in and out of me in mimicry of what his cock could do.

  “Do you taste as good as you feel?”

  Again, I nodded, though I had no idea, of course. I simply wanted to encourage him to put his mouth between my legs, so I could feel his tongue squirming around in my slit. I wanted to do all sorts of things with him, the sorts of things I had never done with anyone before.

  Of course I’d had sex, and even some passably good sex with guys my own age, but there were things I had never done. I’d never let someone tie me up, because the trust wasn’t there. I’d never done anal play with anyone, and I had never been spanked. Just silly, sexual fantasies I indulged in while masturbating, but had never found a partner with whom I really wanted to share the experiences.

  Until now. Until Paxton.

  He continued to pump his fingers into my opening, and his thumb swirled around my clit. I rode his hand frantically, at the cusp of coming when he suddenly stopped. I wailed my displeasure as he withdrew his hand and slid a few feet away from me.

  “Do you want more, sis?” He said the last word with a sarcastic smirk and wink, letting me know he felt no sibling feelings toward me, just as I didn’t for him.

  Responding, I took a moment to straighten my bikini pants so they covered my labia before slipping closer to him. To my frustration, he dodged a few feet away again. “You know I do.” I tilted my head, speculating on his motives. “Don’t you? Or is this some kind of game?”

  “Yes.”

  I glared at him, his ambiguous answer doing nothing to clarify his intent. “So why are you doing this?”

  He shrugged halfheartedly as he lifted himself out of the pool and grabbed a towel from one of the loungers. “You know where to find me, and all you have to do is ask.”

  As he sauntered off, my eyes widened with surprise as I tried to absorb his words. What exactly did he want from me? Did that mean he wanted to fuck me as much as I wanted to fuck him? Was I supposed to go tell him that? God, I didn’t know what he wanted exactly. All I knew was my pussy was on fire, and I had to come. With another furtive look, I slipped my fingers between my legs and brought myself off.

  Thankfully, I hadn’t made any verbalization, because my cunt was still twitching around my fingers when I heard the sound of my name. Like a guilty child, I pulled my hand from between my thighs and turned around to face my father, hoping there wasn’t a trace of satisfaction on my face to show what I had just been doing—or what I had been doing with my stepbrother in the pool just a few minutes before. “Hey, Dad,” I said with a small smile.

  He looked tired and worn, and I knew business kept him up late into the night. He hadn’t said anything to me personally, but I had inferred money troubles were the root of why he had worked so much lately, even though Laura was sick. She seemed to understand, though I didn’t. Money was important, and I liked having our house and our lifestyle, but Laura wouldn’t be here much longer, and it seemed like Dad was wasting the remaining days with her.

  He knelt down carefully, staying several feet away from the edge of the pool. “I saw you with that boy.”

  Boy? I frowned. “You mean Paxton? My stepbrother?”

  My father grimaced. “He’s hardly that, is he? Once Laura dies, he won’t be anything to either one of us.”

  I gasped. “What? You’re just going to cut him off and ignore him after his mom dies?” That was so heartless. He’d be alone in the world, because he and Laura were the only biological family each of them had. His father had died long ago, and both sets of his grandparents were gone, so he would essentially be an orphan. I knew he hadn’t really been part of our family for the last eleven years, but it seemed so cruel just to cut him off and not have anything more to do with him.

  Apparently, my
dad didn’t share that twinge of conscience at the notion. “He wrote us off a long time ago.” That was all he said about the estrangement, but he added, “You should stay away from him.”

  My frown deepened. “Why do you want me to stay away from him?”

  “He’s probably still heavily involved with drugs, and he’s a bad influence. I don’t want him filling your head with all kinds of lies and nonsense, so just stay away from him.”

  My glared deepened, and anger buzzed in my stomach on Paxton’s behalf. My dad was clearly judging him unfairly. “We don’t know what he’s been doing the last eleven years, and for all we know, he wasn’t ever involved with drugs. You’re being too harsh.”

  His glare matched mine. “However you feel about how harsh I am, I’m giving you an order. Stay the fuck away from Paxton Marsh, or you’ll get hurt.”

  I gasped at my father’s tone and the dictate. He’d never been one for laying down the law, and he’d always seemed to trust my judgment. When I had a problem, it was true I usually went to Laura, but I had assumed she would share my issues with my dad, and he offered his input to her. Perhaps I had been wrong, and she had never involved him in the process.

  This side of my dad was unsettling, but there was no way I was going to agree to that edict. “He’s in our house, and he’s family, at least for however long he’s here. You’re being horrible to him for no reason, Dad.” My eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to me. “Are you the reason he ran away?”

  My dad shot up, stiff and straight, a cold glare on his face. “Just listen to me, and that’ll be the end of it. I don’t want to hear anymore speculation or talk about Paxton Marsh, and I want him gone the day Laura dies.” Without another word, he spun on his Italian loafers and strode across the concrete toward the garage area. He must be headed to the office.