by Susan Stoker
Sent me right over the edge with her.
I came in a rush of fire. It burned hot, and then freezing cold with each burst, and the pleasure was fucking unbelievable. My heartbeat got all fucked up, speeding along. I groaned my satisfaction, letting it roll from deep in my chest.
She was still shaking when it was over. Her body pulsed an aftershock and I jerked inside her. The feeling was overwhelming. There was nothing else I could do but sit there and kiss the shit out of her. It was all I wanted to do anyway.
Eventually, she slowly pulled off and collapsed beside me on the couch. I was burning up, but also disappointed she wasn’t on me anymore.
“You okay?” I asked. I tried not to hold my breath.
“I’m great.” She gave me playful side-eye. “And also, I’m not made of glass.”
“Didn’t say you were.” I pretended I wasn’t relieved and acted casual. “You thirsty?”
She nodded.
I got up and went into the kitchen. First order of business was to ditch the condom. I washed my hands, then grabbed two cans of Bud Light from the fridge. “Don’t be putting any clothes back on,” I said loudly. Her body was too amazing. I might spend the rest of the night just looking at her.
Who the fuck was I kidding? I had lots of plans for her—
The couch was empty and my stomach felt funny. Her dress was still on the floor though.
Bathroom? Nah. The door was open and the light off.
“Courtney?”
“In here.”
I switched the cans so I had them both in one hand and used the other to brace myself on the doorframe to my bedroom. Her hair was messy from sex and her cheeks pink. She had the covers over her, but it didn’t matter. The sight knocked me hard. It was only the woman I loved, naked in my bed.
No big deal.
“I like your bed,” she said.
I stalked toward her. “Then, maybe stay a while.”
Her voice was heavy with meaning, and she gave me the smile that made words fall out of my brain. “I think I will.”
~The End~
I hope you enjoyed this Blindfold Club novella! I was so thrilled for Julius to finally get his girl. If you’d like to read more from this sweet and sexy series, please visit www.NikkiSloane.com. While there, you can sign up to find out about new releases and sales in my newsletter!
About Nikki Sloane
USA Today bestselling author Nikki Sloane landed in graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. For eight years she worked for a design firm in that extremely tall, black, and tiered building in Chicago that went through an unfortunate name change during her time there. Now she lives in Kentucky and manages a team of graphic artists. She is a two-time Romance Writers of America RITA© Finalist, is married with two sons, writes dirty books, and couldn't be any happier.
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Royally Screwed by Alexis Alvarez
French translations are provided at the end for your reading pleasure. Thank you, and please enjoy my book! I had a great time writing it. – XOXO, Alexis
Chapter One
“Oh my God, Prince Erik Bastien of Syldavia is finally getting a divorce. I’m so going to tap that shit and turn into a princess, do you hear me?” Mags held up the phone.
Maya sighed. “You do realize you’ve shown me about fifty-seven pictures of him this morning alone?” She loved her bestie, but didn’t share Mags’ preoccupation with the latest gossip regarding the handsome royal brothers of Syldavia.
“No, but this one is new. It’s about his situation! Read it. And just in time for our meeting with him, too. This is literally the best news I can imagine.”
Maya leaned over. “Okay, but I just have a minute before I have to get my camera ready.” The caption read, Source Confirms Separation between Prince Erik and Princess Euphalie. The picture, taken perhaps in happier times, showed a fashionable young man in a pinstriped suit holding hands with a captivating brunette. Two scowling children stood beside them, one of whom—it was an unfortunate capture—had a slack-jawed, vacuous expression. The other was picking his nose.
“A real bunch of winners there, Mags. You wanna be a stepmom to those jerkoffs?” Maya brushed her red curls over her shoulder and lifted her camera. She slid the lens cap into the pocket of her bag, and put one brilliant blue eye up to the viewfinder. The closer they got to actually meeting Prince Erik, the more manic Mags seemed to get. Maya figured that by the time the prince shook Mags’ hand, her bestie might already have exploded with excitement into tiny shards of glitter and confetti.
“That’s just an unflattering view.” Mags waved to their boss across the pressroom, pointed to her wrist, held up five fingers, and nodded. She turned back to Maya. “Besides. The kids will stay with their mom most of the time, and I’ll never have to deal with them. I’ll spend my time with him and his sexy bod at one of his royal palaces.”
Maya shook her head, peering closer at the screen. “Why does he roll his lip that way when he smiles? No wonder she’s divorcing him. He probably drools all the time like a spastic Rottweiler.” She lowered her voice as some members of the growing crowd pushed past towards the velvet rope near the front of the stage.
“No! He’s very sweet. I’ve read all of his interviews.” Mags patted her blonde updo, adjusted her black-rimmed glasses and pursed her red lips. “Off topic: My lipstick is called Mrs. Mia Wallace. Isn’t that awesomesauce?”
“Lipstick is cool and, with those frames, you totally look like a naughty librarian. But your prince? He’s probably inbred. That’s why the weird mouth thing.”
“You better stop saying that stuff. People could be listening. Please, promise you’ll be professional! This is such a big deal to me.” Mags made a face of utter supplication and grabbed Maya’s arm.
“Yes, because tap that shit is the epitome of sophistication.” Maya rolled her eyes, but softened at her friend’s panicked expression. “I promise. You know I’m beyond grateful that he’s helping raise awareness for Smiles. And I’m blown away that you somehow convinced him to even know we exist, let alone talk on our behalf. You’re a genius.”
“I am, right?” Mags smiled. “A soon-to-be Syldavian genius. You’ll see. He’s going to fall for me from the very first second we meet in person. I can just sense it.”
“You’ll have to leave Chicago and revoke your American citizenship. What do they even speak there?” Maya tipped her camera into the light, checking the lens for streaks and dust.
“Sex. They speak sex.” Mags nodded. “Like every other sexy European country. Also, French, German, and Syldavian. But when I’m their princess, I can speak in Ancient Greek if I want. Everyone will just have to run around with Google Translate plugged into their Bluetooth.”
“Call me when you’re settled, and I’ll fly in on your private jet to hang. I’ll miss you once you’re royal, and I’m still a commoner.” Maya grabbed a lens cloth and rubbed in gentle circles, enjoying the sight of the light reflecting through the multiple lens elements, sending spires of blue, pale lavender and yellow into her eyes.
“You know, Prince Erik has that single, older playboy brother, Henri. You can marry him while I marry Erik, and we can be princess sisters and live happily ever after and have castle sleepovers. Deal?”
Maya laughed and slid the cloth away. “I’m not Cinderella, Mags. And you’ve shown me his picture before, too.”
But when Mags swiped to a new photo and held up the phone, Maya caught her breath. Fuck, but Prince Henri was handsome—and sexier than she’d ever seen him.
The picture was grainy, shot from a distance on a tropical beach, but she could see his olive tanned skin, rippled abs, sexy thighs, and thick black hair. An unyielding mouth and a frown in this picture; possibly for the paparazzi. He looked nothing like his pretty-boy brother. The caption read, Sexy Henri on a break from his adoring women on a beach in Bali.
A
sudden wisp of desire unfurled deep inside her abdomen, and she shook her head to break the trance. “We don’t need princes to rescue us, Mags. We can be our own heroes.”
“Oh, totally. This isn’t about being rescued. It’s about the romance. And it’s real life, so if he saved us, we’d save him right back and make it all equal in the end. Like, I’d take his shitty kids and turn them into really nice awesome people, or something, while also winning some kind of Nobel Prize. And he’d give me true love. Come on, we need to get up there.”
The two women pushed through the milling crowd to the roped-off press area, flashing their pre-printed badges for access, and joined Carrie White Horse. Mags’ boss stood right at the front of the press section, placid and stately as always.
“Carrie, we’re ready!” Mags was nearly jumping with enthusiasm. “I am beyond thrilled that we get to actually talk to the prince.”
“Thank you for contacting his administration and making it happen.” Carrie’s voice, slow and measured, held her trademark blend of kind approval and careful assessment. “Having a prince of Syldavia donate and mention our charity is one of the more famous celebrity endorsements we’ve received. I think his attention will inspire many people to donate.”
“Work never seemed so rewarding,” Mags said, face beaming. “It’s totally worth all the boring hours.”
Carrie White Horse never rolled her eyes, but Maya thought that if she planned to start, this particular moment might be a good cherry popper. Carrie’s lip twitched, but her voice was solemn. “I’m glad all of your royal stalking has paid off in dividends today.”
Mags nodded vigorously. “I do it for the kids. For Save Our Smiles.”
And that was the thing of it; no matter how silly Mags might sound right now, she was a tireless advocate, lending her exuberance and her bubbly personality to fund-raising, donor-enticing, countless hours of cold calls, and PR. She’d probably done more to raise money for the life-altering cleft palate surgeries than anyone else had, and everyone knew it, especially Carrie White Horse, the founder of Smiles. So if Mags wanted to turn into a gushing, giddy fan-girl today over the prince she’d stalked for the past year? No problem.
“I’m just dying for my private interview with him,” Mags said, her voice lowered. “I don’t even think I’ll be able to focus.”
“I’ll focus,” said Maya, tapping her camera.
She volunteered her local photography services to Save Our Smiles. She took some pictures after the cleft palate surgeries, if the children were local, but most of them were not. A very small percentage of the children who received money and aid from Smiles were in the USA. Most of them were overseas in third world countries, like Morocco, Honduras, Colombia, or Vietnam. Typically, she photographed local Chicago events like this one, although their usual guest speakers were doctors or local business people. Smiles received periodic celebrity endorsements, but those events were normally photographed by volunteers at the L.A. branch of Smiles. This was her most interesting shoot, that was for sure!
“Oh my God, here he comes.” Mags stiffened, and the buzz rose to a dull roar as the room noticed his entrance. Applause started swelling as Prince Erik reached the sleek brown podium, two men in black flanking him, standing back a few meters, eyes scanning the crowd.
Maya glanced around the room and saw several more bodyguards, standing strategically near entrances, some of them facing away from the stage. It hit her in that moment that this was real—Mags had convinced a real live fucking prince from somewhere exotic in this world to mention them in a globally televised press conference!
“Thank you.” The prince held up a hand. “Thank you so much.”
The applause intensified, and a reporter shouted out, “Is your divorce official?”
“Thank you for coming today. I’m going to talk about our inner… international conflict resolution summit plans. And the conference on global warming that Syldavia will be sponsoring later this year. But first, let me mention a charity I’d like you to hear about. Please hold your questions until the end.”
Another reporter called out, “Is Princess Euphalie in London with the kids?”
“Is it true that you’re having an affair?”
Private security guards stepped up to the rogue reporters. Fascinated, Maya watched as there was a muted discussion, and the reporters left the room with the guards.
“Too bad,” she whispered to Mags. “I wanted to hear the answer.” She raised her camera and snapped a picture of the prince with his hands up. That might make a good shot for the newsletter.
“Shhh!” Mags pointed, spellbound, at the front of the room. “He’s going to talk.”
“I’m glad to be here today to share with you one of my dearest.” The prince cleared his throat and casually placed a hand on the podium. “And that is, helping children who need. Are in, that is. Need.” He swallowed.
Maya snapped another picture. Were his eyes a little red?
“As you know, I make it a point to help out charities each year, and Save Our Smiles is a growing non-profit that helps children around the world receive life-altering facials.” He paused and looked down at his script. “Surgery! Facial surgeries. Did you know that they’ve helped over a thousand children over the past five years? These are shildren… who otherwise would be shunned, deserted or left to die. For a donation of juss $250, you can provide surgery to a needy child worldwide. Because, ah, because doctors volunteer their services, the cost goes to supplies and planning.”
He wiped his forehead and then put his hand back onto the podium. Maya watched, spellbound, as he started to tilt ever so slightly to the left. Horrified, yet unable to look away, she grabbed a shot, then another. Jesus.
Suddenly, another man stepped out of the wings and joined the prince at the podium, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “As my brother stated, our entire family is proud to donate to Save Our Smiles, and we encourage you all to do the same. You can find the pledge drive on their website, Facebook, or Twitter. Read stories about actual families whose lives have been transformed by the surgeries they could otherwise never afford. Your generosity today, even a small amount, will help children for a lifetime. Thank you.”
Maya caught her breath—the helper was none other than Prince Henri, the older playboy brother of the apparently intoxicated Erik. Nobody had mentioned that he’d be here, too! She noticed that Henri’s hand remained firmly on his brother’s shoulder, and that his smile looked forced.
Working on autopilot, she took multiple captures of the brothers, and then zoomed in on Prince Henri’s face. Click. The way the light came in made him look even sexier. He smiled, and she captured, that, too.
“Thanks for your support. We have a packed schedule today,” Prince Henri said, his voice firm. “So, unfortunately, my brother and I have to cut this press conference short. Our PR rep will answer questions about the charity, then our envoy Marc Bitternburg will join you all to discuss the international diplomacy issues. Thank you so much.”
The room erupted into a babble of disappointed chatter, flashes, and calls. “Can you tell us more about the divorce?” “Prince Henri, are you dating anyone right now?” But the two men strode backstage and disappeared.
***
Later, standing in their assigned conference room with Mags, an hour after they were supposed to meet with Prince Erik, Maya was irritable. “If he agreed to do a private interview, he could at least be on time for it.”
“He’s busy with his adoring public.” Mags crossed her legs and tapped her knee. “But it is taking a while. I hope he didn’t forget about us.” Her face held a look of such disappointment that Maya felt sad on her behalf.
“Aw, Mags. You did great getting him to talk about the charity. We’re going to raise so much money now. You’re a hero! I can’t believe he showed up drunk, though.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He was weaving like crazy. I thought he was going to fall down.”
&
nbsp; Mags crossed her arms. “You’re imagining things because you have something against him. You’re not even making sense.”
“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t noticeable, then.” Maya rolled her eyes. “That’s not the kind of publicity we need. Or he does.”
“You have such a chip on that shoulder.” Mags pretended to brush at her friend’s arm. “Can’t you just be fun about this for a single second? Can’t I daydream about being romanced by a prince?”
“Romance with an idiot? I kind of think I can do better. So can you.”
“Well, he’s got to be nicer than that jerk you dated last month, Pete Whatever. The one who turned out to be a misogynistic asshole.”
“Okay, that’s not fair. Yes, I made a mistake with Peter, but at least he could put words together into reasonable sentences. Your magical Prince Charming can’t even do that consistently.”
“They were both educated at Oxford, Maya, and served in the Syldavian army. They’re not idiots.”
“They seriously have an army? I can’t imagine what the hell they even do. What, do they shoot cheese pellets at their trade rivals? Smother them with pure gold dust? I can just imagine their drills.”
She made her voice deep and demanding. “Drop and give me five, gentlemen. Five bars of platinum, that is. You! Corporal Henri! Since you’re always chasing a piece of ass in the tabloids, I sentence you to enjoy a nice round of juicy pussy in your castle. DIS-missed!” She burst into laughter at her own joke, but checked herself when she saw that Mags, instead of giggling, was staring past her with an odd, fixed grimace.
“Mags?” she said, a cold icky feeling creeping up her spine.
Mags made a little squeak.
“Um.” Maya turned around and looked right into the drop-dead gorgeous face of Prince Henri Bastien IV, His Royal Highness of Syldavia. He didn’t appear pleased. Nor did the bodyguards behind him, behemoths in black, silent, watchful, their eyes cool, their mouths concise.