Royally Mine: 22 All-New Bad Boy Romance Novellas

by Susan Stoker

  Her fingers tangled in his hair as he sucked one of her pert nipples between his lips, running his tongue slowly over the ridges of her hardened flesh, letting his teeth raze her skin gently, which elicited a moan from her lips.

  He chuckled against her skin, circling her other nipple with the tip of his tongue as Christina Perri sang passionately about the thousand years that he and this particular Bella would never have together.

  Covering her breasts with his palms to keep them warm, he kissed a trail down her soft belly, wondering what it would have looked like swollen with his children, their hands and feet wiggling beneath her skin, her laughter as she pressed his palm against her flesh, asking if he could feel it too. Banishing the beautiful dream from his mind, he slid his hands down her sides, over the slight swell of her hips, as he glanced up at her face. Slack with passion, her lips were parted, her eyes closed, her neck arched back—the most naturally sensual woman he’d ever known in his life.

  “Bella,” he said, letting his palm skate to the hint of soft hair covering her pussy. “I care about you so much.”

  “I know,” she sighed, her voice thick and heavy. “Please, Nico.”

  He doubted she even knew what exactly she was asking for, but he couldn’t wait any longer to taste her sweetness. Spreading her soft, delicate lips, he dipped his head and touched his tongue to the slick nub of hidden flesh.

  Bella whimpered, her hips bucking from the blanket, and Nico slid his hands under her hips, cradling her in his arms as his tongue licked and sucked, circling her sensitive clit before drawing away to blow softly on the throbbing flesh. She was wet and writhing, ready for him.

  Leaning back on his knees, he pulled his boxer briefs over his pulsing erection, then stood quickly and pushed them over his hips, letting them fall to his ankles and stepping out of them.

  Beneath him, Bella looked up and smiled. “Look at you.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “The moon’s right over your shoulder,” she said. “It’s like you’re standing in the middle of it.”

  “The man in the moon,” he said, smiling down at her.

  “My man in the moon,” she corrected him.

  He knelt down between her legs, leaning forward to kiss her again. “Are you sure you want this?”

  She reached for his face, cupping his cheek. “I’m sure.”

  He bit his lip. “I don’t have protection, Bella.”

  She took a deep breath and held it, scanning his face. “Are you careful?”

  “I am,” he said. “I need to be. Getting someone pregnant isn’t something I should…” His voice drifted off because, truth told, it had momentarily occurred to him to try to get Bella pregnant so that they’d be bound to one another for life. “Are you on the pill?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Shit,” he sighed, rolling onto his back and throwing his arm over his eyes.

  He felt her move, heard her rustling around on the blanket for a moment before she lay back down beside him, placing something on his chest.

  Moving his arms, he looked down to see a square foil packet shining in the moonlight. He reached for it, propping himself on his side and looking down at her with wonder. “You brought one?”

  She shrugged lightly, sitting up and taking it from his fingers. She tore it open with her teeth, which was just about the sexiest fucking thing Nico had ever seen in his life.

  “I knew what I wanted.”

  Breathing in deeply, his cock throbbing for her touch, he was rewarded with her fingers wrapping around the base as she slipped the condom over his erection.

  Unable to wait any longer to bury himself inside of her, he flipped her to her back, smiling down at her, finding her lips with his as he guided himself into her sex. Sliding inside as slowly as possible, he covered her mouth with his, stealing her breath as he broke through her virgin barrier.

  She whimpered in pain, and it clutched at his heart.

  “Are you okay?” he panted, deeply imbedded within her but perfectly still though the walls of her pussy throbbed around him.

  “Give me a second,” she answered breathlessly, her chest rising and falling quickly.

  “Bella,” he groaned, looking into her eyes as beads of sweat broke out across his forehead. “I love you.”

  She raised her legs experimentally, just a little, then a little more, until she was cradling his hips between hers. “I love you too.”

  And then he moved within her, pulling out then thrusting back inside, cradling her face as his body pumped into hers, loving the way she moaned as he moved faster, feeling the gathering in his balls, which tightened with every push. And Bella’s body—Dio, for the rest of his life, he’d remember the way they fit together, the tightness of her sheath, the way she clung to him, panting into his ear, her sweet breath falling against his straining neck in puffs as her legs locked behind his back.

  “I wish…,” he grated out. “I wish, I wish…O Dio, Bella, vorrei avervi sempre accanto a me!” I wish I could have you always by my side!

  “Anch’io,” she panted. Me too. “Amami, Nico…amami…amami…amami…”

  Her words—love me…love me…love me…love me—were a litany of longing, of truth, of everything that he wished he could have. They tipped him over the edge of passion, and he found his release, crying out his own truth as he came inside of her:

  “Ti amo, mia cara Bella! Per sempre.”

  I love you, my darling Bella. Forever.

  ***

  They slept for a while after making love, and when they awoke, it was much later—the sky almost black but for the full moon and brightest stars. For a while, rolled up in the blanket together, they stayed naked, sipping wine and snacking on cheese. Had Bella thought to bring a second condom, they would have made love a second time, but without it, they stared into one another’s eyes for hours, their bodies flush against each other, holding one another tightly, kissing at will. As the seconds ticked by, though, their smiles were less brave, their hearts ever more heavy.

  When the first light of dawn started brightening the sky, she felt a kind of panic seize her heart, but she pushed it aside, wiggling from their cozy cocoon and reaching for her bra and panties.

  “You’re getting ready to leave,” he said softly from behind her, his voice heartbroken.

  “It’s time,” she answered, clasping her bra. She stood up and picked up her dress, pulling it over her head. “I’ve stayed much longer than I should have.”

  “It’s not light yet,” he said.

  “It will be. Very soon.”

  She gathered her thick black hair at the nape of her neck and bound it into a quick bun. She didn’t want to cry—she didn’t want Nico’s last memories of her to be watching her cry—but her eyes had already started to burn, and she felt the warm wetness slip down her cheeks.

  It had been the most beautiful night of her life. She wasn’t ready to say good-bye. Turning around, she looked down at Nico, still partially covered with the blanket, gazing up at her with glistening eyes of his own. He braced his palm on the floor as though about to stand.

  “Don’t get up,” she said quickly, kneeling down beside him.

  “I hate this,” he said, reaching for her cheek.

  She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes, then forcing them open. “Don’t hate it. Thirty minutes of wonderful, remember? We had a whole week.”

  “I’ll live on it, Bella,” he told her, “for the rest of my life.”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t want that. I want you to be happy.”

  “That feels impossible right now.”

  “Promise me you’ll try.”

  His eyes shuttered closed as tears escaped, sliding slowly down his cheek. “I’ll try.”

  She reached up to wipe away her tears, then leaned down to kiss him. It would be their last kiss, so she tried to notice every ridge of his lips, the way he sounded as he breathed in, the way he smelled—
a mix of him and her—the way his hand felt against her face.

  Drawing away, she swallowed a sob and somehow managed to say, “Be happy.”

  He covered his face with his hands, and she stood quickly, running across the roof to the stairwell door before she allowed herself to cry.

  She walked quickly down the hall to the elevator, pressed the button for the thirty-second floor, and stepped out of the elevator to the glass doors of the salon. Taking the key from her pocket, she unlocked the doors and slipped inside, beelining through the dark space to the staff bathroom, where she sat down on the toilet and wept.

  It was so blisteringly unfair that she should meet the love of her life and have to lose him. Just like Madame.

  Madame.

  She needed to get home before Madame, who was an occasional early riser, woke up.

  Splashing her face with cold water, she straightened her dress, fashioned her long hair into a braid, and then left the salon and headed downstairs. As she pulled her key from her dress pocket, however, the door opened, and there, in the doorway, stood Madame.

  “I warned you,” she said, holding out Bella’s passport to her.

  “Please,” whispered Bella, taking the little red book from Madame’s fingers.

  “I saw you,” said Madame, crossing her arms over her chest and blocking the doorway. A mean smile tilted her lips. “Spreading your legs on the roof. I believe I have a picture on my phone if you want to see it.”

  Bella stared at her in shock and disgust, refusing to answer.

  “Who was he?”

  Clenching her jaw, Bella lifted her chin, looking Helga Gothel straight in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s too late. You’re out. I’ll give you half an hour to get your—”

  “I’m not sorry about last night,” she said, her voice sure and strong. “I’m sorry he didn’t love you.”

  Madame’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “But if you were as miserable then as you are now,” she continued, “he made the right choice when he picked my mother.”

  “Karin stole him from me!” Madame Gothel exclaimed, her face red with fury. “He loved me first!”

  Bella thought about her parents, about the way her father looked at her mother, about the way she tousled his jet-black hair, sighing with happiness.

  “He loved her better,” said Bella quietly, sidling past her godmother so she could go pack up her things.

  She closed the door to her bedroom and pulled a suitcase from beneath her bed. She didn’t have much—some clothes and toiletries, a few books, some framed pictures, and some jewelry that had been her mother’s. Anything else she could replace once she got home.

  Home.

  Her heart ached with the goodness of it.

  Taking the little change purse from her top drawer, she counted out her tips. Four hundred and sixty-two dollars. She doubted it would be enough for a plane ticket home. Sitting down on her bed, she looked at herself in the mirror over the dresser, at her father’s jet-black hair that cascaded down her back to rest on the bed behind her.

  And suddenly she knew exactly how she would get home.

  Chapter Eight

  A week later

  “Bella, devi uscire con noi una sera,” said her coworker, Ilsa, using a broom to sweep the hair cuttings from around her styling chair. You have to come out with us one night.

  “Sí!” cried Tia, who looked up from holding the dustpan for her cousin, Ilsa. “Dai vieni con noi, sul serio. Al meno per un po’?” Come on out with us, girl! Just for a little?

  Bella put the two combs in her hand into the sterilizing solution, then gathered a handful of pins into her palm and shoved them into a drawer.

  “Non questa sera,” she said. Not tonight.

  “You’re too sad!” said Tia, hopping up to dump the contents of the dustpan into the trash. “You were never like this before going to America!”

  Ilsa nodded in agreement. “You’re breaking our hearts, Bella.”

  Since returning home to Bellinzona a week ago, Bella had been lovingly welcomed back by school friends who hadn’t forgotten her. Indeed, Ilsa and Tia Bonasco, with whom Bella had grown up, had even helped her get a job here at Salone Rosa.

  “I just…” She sighed, thinking of Nico’s face and feeling her heart clench with agony. “I miss someone.”

  “But there are plenty of someones going to La Fabrique tonight!” insisted Ilsa. “And one of those someone’s could be a new someone for you!”

  Tia snorted at her cousin. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

  Smiling at her friends, Bella shook her head. “Soon, I promise. But for now? I think I’ll just head home and relax.”

  “Home!” scoffed Ilsa. “A room! A very dreary room! You should come and stay with us.”

  Bella had earned $3,000 selling her hair, which had bought her an $800 one-way plane ticket home, and she’d taken a taxi straight to the Bellinzona Youth Hostel, where she’d lucked out in reserving a single room for two weeks.

  Meanwhile, she’d also found an apartment to rent on Via Ghiringelli, but she couldn’t move in until July 1…which was fine with Bella. While she was living at the hostel, she’d nurse her broken heart, but next week when she moved into her new apartment, she intended to start a new life that didn’t include breath-stealing memories of a certain Italian prince.

  “You two share a bed as it is,” noted Bella. “Besides, my new place will be ready in a week.”

  “So you’re just going to go home and weep some more?” asked Tia.

  “No. I’m going to drink a few glasses of decent wine and watch the sunset before I get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Santa Bella will be ready for church in the morning,” said Ilsa, putting the broom away, “and we’ll just be stumbling home.”

  “Come on,” said Tia, putting her arm around Bella’s shoulders as she withdrew the key to the salon from her pocket. “We’re catching the bus. We’ll walk you halfway to the hostel.”

  Her friends buzzed merrily about their Saturday-night plans as they walked with Bella, kissing her good-bye at the intersection of Via Dogana and Via Lugano, where they could catch a bus, then a train, north to La Fabrique nightclub in Castellone.

  Bella waved good-bye to them, strolling through the piazza for Via Nocca, looking up at the castle on the hill and the mountains beyond and trying to feel grateful to be home. She was happy to be away from Madame Gothel, out from under her unkind keeping. She didn’t miss the New York Metro Tower Hotel or any of the employees at the hotel with whom she’d worked for a handful of years.

  But she missed Nico.

  So badly, and with such a profound and constant yearning, sometimes she wasn’t sure how she’d survive it.

  Most nights she cried herself to sleep, remembering the tenderness of his caresses and the gentle sound of his trembling voice in her ear: Ti amo, mia cara Bella! Per sempre.

  But she and Nico hadn’t shared a forever love, just a breathless week of wonderful that she wished could have been more.

  She kicked a pebble in her path, taking a ragged breath as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  You were a fling, Bella, and so was he. A sweet summer fling. Let it be enough. Not all girls can look back and say that once upon a time they made love to a prince under a starry sky…

  And yet she wasn’t comforted by the thought. Maybe because she hadn’t been making love to a prince; she’d been making love to Nico, and she missed him with every breath, every beat of her aching heart.

  As she walked up to the gorgeous old villa that had been transformed into a youth hostel in 2002, she ran her fingers through her close-cropped hair, still trying to get used to it. She took a deep breath, wishing she could remember what kind of wine she’d stashed in the back of her closet. She’d purchased several bottles and was steadily plowing through them each evening in the hostel’s courtyard, sitting alone in a wooden lounge chair by an
ancient fountain until she was just drunk enough to fall into bed and have a cry before falling mercifully to sleep.

  A good Merlot, I think. Or was it a—

  “Bella.”

  She froze in her tracks, clenching her eyes closed and balling her fingers into fists by her sides.

  It wasn’t the first time it had happened this week—hearing his voice like she hadn’t left him in New York without a forwarding address or word of any kind—but it was the cruelest of the tricks her mind played.

  Except…

  Except this time, someone reached for her right hand and was gently unfurling her fingers.

  “Cara Bella. Ti prego…guardarmi.” Darling Bella. Please…look at me.

  She felt his breath on her lips, felt the warmth of his body near hers, but she feared that if she opened her eyes, the beautiful illusion would disappear.

  “You look so different,” he whispered close to her ear. “Quasi non ti reconoscevo.” I almost didn’t recognize you.

  The Nico she left in New York wouldn’t know anything about her cutting her hair…which meant…which meant…he was real!

  With trembling fingers, she reached up to touch his face, sobbing as she opened her eyes to find him standing in front of her.

  “Nico,” she managed to whisper as her eyes traced the lines of his beloved face. There were circles under his eyes, his hair was messy, and his beard was thicker, but it was him. It was Nico De’Medici, her lost love, and he was somehow here with her in Bellinzona. “Tu sei qui.” You’re here.

  “Mi dispiace tantissimo, amore mio,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms. I’m so sorry, my love.

  “For what?”

  Tears trailed down her cheeks as she reached up to wind her arms around his neck, laying her cheek against his chest and inhaling the familiar scent of Acqua Nobile.

  “For letting you go.” She sobbed softly, clutching him tighter as he continued: “As soon as you left the roof, I knew I was making a mistake to let you say good-bye to me. I got dressed, cleaned up, and went back to my room to change. By the time I got to your apartment, you were gone, and that witch—your goddamned godmother—told me she’d kicked you out. I was out of my mind with worry! I had no idea where you’d gone, Bella. Where did you go?”