Royally Mine: 22 All-New Bad Boy Romance Novellas

by Susan Stoker

  Cora finished her glass of champagne and set it on the tray of a passing servant. She smoothed a hand through her curls and decided a breath of fresh air was in order. Turning for the balcony, she navigated through the multitude of royal guests, vaguely wondering which of them were indeed of noble blood.

  The king of Ismallia had over a dozen legitimate children, some of whom had children of their own already. And if the tabloids she’d glimpsed on the newsstands were correct, the king was a bit of a rogue, having fathered many children outside of his two official marriages. King Brenul had numerous brothers and sisters who’d all had many children as well. Cora had read somewhere that Ismallia had eighty-nine princes and ninety-eight princesses in total.

  As she stood on the balcony that overlooked a well-lit garden, her eyes drifted upward. The moon was full and beaming, the stars sparkling against the velvet black of the regal night sky. The only person she knew at this gathering was the bride, as none of their mutual college friends had been able to make the trip. She was awash in a sea of strangers, in a foreign country thousands of miles from home, but, thankfully, the magic of this entire day outshined her inevitable sense of isolation.

  But I’m not really lonely. I’m not.

  If she kept telling herself she was perfectly fine, she would eventually start to believe it. Cora believed in the power of positive thinking, that enough good thoughts would lead to good fortune, and she wasn’t about to forsake one of her best habits all because the man she’d thought she would marry and grow old with had betrayed her.

  She released a long breath, imagining all her negative thoughts and emotions departed her body with the exhale to carry away on the faint breeze.

  Everything would be all right.

  She would enjoy the remainder of her weeklong stay at the palace. She would visit every tourist spot in Ismallia she’d originally planned to visit with Mr. Cheaterpants all by herself, and she would have a damn good time without his negativity weighing her down. Then she would return to Manhattan and the job she enjoyed, working for the top public relations firm on the east coast.

  Yes, everything would be hunky dory.

  The breeze picked up, ruffling the sheer layers of the elegant dress Malia had insisted she borrow. One of Cora’s suitcases hadn’t made it to Ismallia, and her friend had graciously lent her a ball gown to wear. Smoothing her hands down the silky fabric, she gazed across the garden, imagining she was one of the princesses who called this grand castle home.

  A smile tugged at her lips, it was a silly thing to pretend, but she kept the fantasy going for a few more seconds.

  I’ve been betrothed to a handsome prince I’ve never met, and this is my engagement party. I’m to meet my fiancé for the first time on the dance floor tonight, while the entire kingdom watches with bated breath. Though I’m initially nervous, my soon-to-be husband’s kindness and charm wins me over, and I fall fast in love. We have a fairytale wedding, and then comes the wedding night, where he takes his time stripping off my wedding gown, his dark eyes flaming with unbridled lust, and then…

  “Champagne?”

  A deep, sexy voice jarred Cora from her reverie. Her cheeks blooming with heat, she turned and found herself face-to-face with a man so darkly handsome he could have been the very prince from her fantasy. Her cheeks flamed hotter, and she took a deep breath, staring into his strikingly beautiful gaze as her mouth grew increasingly dry. She swallowed hard and glanced at the drink he was still offering.

  “I… thank you,” she finally said, hoping the darkness hid her incessant flushing.

  She reached for the flute of champagne and nearly gasped when his fingers brushed over hers in a deliberate swipe of flesh on flesh. The self-assured quirk on his lips told her it definitely wasn’t an accident. He’d meant to touch her just now, but only for a split second.

  With shaking hands, Cora clutched her drink and continued to stare up into the most handsome dark eyes she’d ever glimpsed. The undeniable predatory gleam in his gaze prompted her pulse to quicken.

  This sexy stranger looked like a man used to getting what he wanted, and right now, he looked like he wanted her.

  Her pussy clenched as she took in the rest of his features.

  He was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a suit that had been tailored perfectly to his huge muscular physique. Upon further inspection, she decided he wasn’t one of the many legitimate princes in attendance, as they typically wore a small golden royal insignia on their jackets. But whoever he was, he exuded power and confidence, and while she wasn’t easily turned into a quaking puddle of hormones, her body was having an extreme visceral reaction to his sudden presence on the balcony.

  Spasms of heat besieged her womanly core, and her nipples went painfully hard in the confines of her bodice.

  Gathering her senses, she cleared her throat and offered him her hand. “Hello. I’m Cora. And you are?”

  He grasped her hand and squeezed harder than she expected. When she tried to pull away, he didn’t release her. Instead, he kept holding her hand and rubbing his thumb on the soft underside of her wrist. Goosebumps rose on her arms and her heart pounded faster.

  Finally, he introduced himself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cora. I can tell you’re not from around here. American, I presume? I’ve been watching you all evening. My name is Akeen, and I’m the man who’s going to convince you to stay in Ismallia.”

  ***

  The pretty blonde’s eyes went wide, before she flushed profusely and released a nervous laugh.

  Akeen’s groin tightened.

  He’d been watching her long enough to know she’d come to the wedding celebration alone. He’d come by himself too, and he’d been scoping out the gathering for a single woman to warm his bed tonight when he’d spotted her sitting at a table, sipping champagne by herself. Though she’d smiled occasionally while watching people dance, he’d also noticed brief flashes of sadness that he’d felt an inexplicable need to erase.

  When she’d licked a drop of champagne off her bottom lip, the primal urge to claim her had made his cock rouse to hardness in a single heartbeat.

  Except now, he wasn’t thinking about just one night. His balls fucking ached standing this close to her. Once wouldn’t be enough. Hell, twice wouldn’t be enough. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder, carry her to his private quarters upstairs, and fuck her over and over again.

  “So, is that your go-to line when you’re trying to get into a girl’s pants?” Cora asked before grinning into her champagne. She took a sip and then—holy fuck—once more licked a drop of the bubbly liquid off her bottom lip.

  Akeen stepped forward, reached around her, and set his glass of champagne on the surface of the thick iron balcony railing. He remained close to her, peering down into her startled blue eyes, still holding her hand and stroking her wrist. “Tell me your favorite pick-up line, sweetheart, and I’ll use it.”

  She gave him a tight smile, but he detected the rapid beat of her pulse in her neck and the quick intakes of her breath. Her mind was telling her to escape him, but her body wanted the same thing he did—a night of raw, primal fucking.

  She lifted her eyebrows, and, with exaggerated movements that forced him to step back an inch, lifted her champagne and took another sip, finally downing the contents of the glass. Though it was now empty, she still held it between them like a barrier.

  “Well,” she said, her gaze traveling upward, “if you were especially perceptive, you would have noticed I was staring down upon the beautiful garden. Rather than insinuating that sex with you is going to be so good that I fall madly in love with you and decide to never return to America, you could have asked me to accompany you for a walk in the garden. Cheesy, bold pick-up lines don’t usually work on me, Akeen. You’re dressed like a gentleman, the least you could do is play the part and not come at me like a rutting boar.”

  He released her hand and grabbed her empty glass, setting it next to his.

  God, she wa
s perfect.

  If he wasn’t busy envisioning all the ways to put her smart mouth to use, he would’ve been quicker with a retort.

  Cora was a challenge that he fucking accepted.

  Ismallian women normally dropped at his feet, but that’s because they recognized him as the wealthy bastard son of the king, a powerful man who advised his father and worked behind the scenes in Parliament. It thrilled him that this American hadn’t the faintest idea about his identity.

  “I prefer a more direct approach, Cora,” he finally said. “I saw you. I watched you. I decided I wanted you. I will have you.”

  She laughed and gave him an incredulous look. As she shook her head in disagreement, her long golden curls shifted over her shoulders, and the scent of her floral shampoo tickled his nose. “Wow, you sure are cocky. Let me guess—you’re so handsome and wealthy, that most women normally fall straight into your arms.”

  “Actually, they usually fall right into my bed.”

  She grinned, her eyes lighting up the night. “Wow, again. As tempting as crawling between the sheets with a total stranger sounds, I’m going to have to pass.”

  “In that case,” he replied quickly, “I would like to invite you to accompany me on a stroll through the garden.” He stepped back and held out his elbow.

  She sighed and rolled her eyes, but surprised him by taking his offered arm. “Well, I suppose a walk won’t hurt. You lead the way, Mr. Cocky.”

  Oh fuck. That mouth.

  Yes, he was going to put that smart mouth of hers to work later. But first, he had to woo her. He wasn’t worried. No woman he’d chased had ever turned him down, even the few who’d displayed a bit of reluctance in the beginning.

  By the time sunlight broke across the mountains of Ismallia, she would have screamed his name countless times during the throes of passion.

  He guided her toward the servants’ staircase that was hidden behind a large pillar. It was the fastest way down to the garden, and it would afford them more privacy than the main staircase, which was crowded with royals and their guests. If Akeen had to engage in polite small talk with one more relative or member of Parliament, his head was going to explode. He’d attended the wedding and a few hours of the reception to show his support for his half-brother and his new bride, but now he was ready to leave. But not until Cora agreed to accompany him.

  They were quiet on the way down the narrow staircase, and luckily, they only passed a few startled servants. Finally, they reached the garden level and strode out into the warm, fragrant evening air.

  God, his cock ached. The thought of stripping off Cora’s gown and kissing every inch of her body, then holding her down and teasing her with slow thrusts into her sweet little pussy before he commenced fucking her hard, made him half-dizzy with lust. There was something about her that beckoned him. He doubted she was a virgin, but there was still an innocence about her that begged to be defiled.

  Proper. That’s what Cora was. She was a proper young lady. The kind of girl who’d only had missionary style sex with the lights off. The kind of girl who didn’t have one-night stands.

  Before the night was over, he would strip Cora of not only her dress, but her inhibitions as well.

  He placed his hand over hers and led her deeper into the garden, wondering how long she was planning to visit Ismallia.

  With all he had to teach her, two nights, let alone one, wouldn’t be enough.

  Chapter Two

  What the hell was she doing?

  Cora wasn’t certain why she’d decided to accompany Mr. Cocky to the garden. Well, except she was certain, and she didn’t much like her reasons for choosing to hang out with him.

  As difficult as it was to admit, she was seriously thinking about spending the night with this handsome stranger. He hadn’t spoken since he’d brought her to the garden, and she didn’t know a thing about him, but every cell in her body was pleading for her to throw caution to the wind and enjoy herself for once.

  One-night stands didn’t count if you were out of country, right?

  The increasing sound of nighttime bugs carried over the din of the party and the live music within the castle. They were alone in this section of the garden, and her heart fluttered every time she glanced at her companion. She was pretty sure no man had ever looked so sexy in a suit.

  “Are you a guest in the palace?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  “Yes, I’m staying in the west wing.”

  “Ah, that explains why I haven’t seen you around. My quarters are in the east wing.”

  “Your quarters?” She pressed her lips together for a moment. Was he about to tell her that he was indeed an Ismallian prince?

  “Yes, I live here.” He didn’t offer further explanation, and she paused beside a thick flowering vine that was surrounded by lightning bugs. He turned to face her and she shot him an impatient look, urging him to stop beating around the bush. He was obviously an important person in the castle, and he might as well stop with the vagueness and inform her of his title already.

  “Must I really ask the question?”

  “What question?” His expression was a poor feign of innocence.

  Beneath his contrived surprise at her question, he still looked like the same mildly infuriating self-assured man who’d approached her on the balcony. But damn, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering more about him or from picturing what he would look like with his suit stripped off.

  She rolled her eyes and released a dramatic huff. “Are you a prince? You don’t look like a servant, and I can’t imagine another reason you would live in the castle.”

  He leaned down until his eyes were level with hers, his face so close, the heat of his breath wafted across her skin. “If I told you I was a prince, would that increase my chances of…”

  “Probably not,” she said, cutting him off. “However, you are obviously someone of importance in this country. I’d like to know.”

  “Very well. I’m the oldest bastard son of King Brenul. Perhaps you’ve heard of me. The tabloids used to call me the ‘bastard prince,’ but these days I’m usually referred to as ‘Royal Advisor Akeen.’ ”

  Cora’s pulse thundered in her ears. She blinked at him as all the headlines she’d seen on this week’s tabloids at the newsstand came rushing back. Akeen had been wearing sunglasses in all the photos she’d seen, otherwise she would have recognized him. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth.

  “I’ll admit I’ve seen some of the tabloids, but I didn’t actually read any of the articles.” Oh, but she certainly remembered the specific headlines that pertained to her present companion.

  Trusted Royal Advisor Akeen Thwarts Assassination Attempt

  Sex Crazed Royal Advisor Akeen Proposes Marriage—She Says No

  Royal Advisor Akeen Is Most Eligible Bastard Prince

  Waitress Tells All About Passionate Night With Royal Advisor Akeen

  Jealous Prince Masoom Accuses Royal Advisor Akeen Of Mafia Ties

  The corner of Akeen’s mouth curled, and his eyes darkened as he reached for her, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. She shivered at his touch and longed to step closer to inhale his delicious masculine scent. He wasn’t the sort of man to whom she was usually attracted. She was used to dating well-mannered, respectable men who looked like they wanted to get married soon, have 2.1 children, and move to the suburbs.

  Of course, none of the men she’d dated had ever made her entire body thrum with a desire so heightened she could actually detect the moisture pooling in her sex.

  She pressed her thighs together and tried to ignore her burgeoning arousal, but when Akeen brushed another strand of hair behind her ear, a rush of tension and longing curled in her nether region. A sudden wave of dizzying lust stole her breath, forcing her to inhale with little gasps.

  Embarrassed, she felt her face heat.

  “The king has a lot of bastards, but it seems you’re the most famous of them all,” she said. As soon as she got a moment a
lone, she planned to Google the fuck out of his name. Except, she wasn’t sure how soon that private moment would come. If her libido got its way, she would be waking up beside this gorgeous bastard prince come morning.

  “I try not to pay attention to the tabloids. Not everything in print is true.”

  “So, you’re not the sex crazed bad boy the sleaze rags make you out to be?”

  “Sex crazed?” He laughed for a second, then his face turned serious. “Depends on the woman.”

  She grinned wryly and drew herself up taller, mimicking a confidence she didn’t quite feel. “Yeah, I’m the same way. Uh, of course, I mean, it depends on the man.”

  Smooth, Cora. Real smooth.

  Her poise started to wither, but when his features transformed into a genuine smile, she decided she hadn’t blundered too badly. The smile didn’t last long; the serious, dark lustful look soon replaced his humor.

  The air around them suddenly felt charged with electricity, as if a violent thunderstorm was about to break overhead.

  “How long until you return to America?”

  “Five days.”

  “Not good enough. I’m going to want you for longer.”

  Before she had time to protest his continued brashness, which she found infuriatingly charming, he cupped her face and leaned down to capture her lips in a soft, sensual kiss that soon turned urgent. A series of deafening blasts made her gasp against his mouth, but when she opened her eyes and pulled back slightly, peering at him in confusion, she saw the colorful explosions reflected in his gaze.

  “Fireworks,” he breathed.

  He clutched her face harder and leaned in to press his lips to hers again, sliding his tongue inside and claiming her with a force that left her as breathless as the crowd on the balcony became from cheering at the fireworks.

  Cora settled her hips against his and reveled in the feel of his growing hardness as he deepened the kiss. Oh yes. More please. He tasted like champagne and the chocolate cheesecake that had been served earlier, and she couldn’t seem to get enough.