Royally Mine: 22 All-New Bad Boy Romance Novellas

by Susan Stoker

  Maybe his luck was finally changing.

  He just needed to meet her first, to see if she was like him.

  And then he needed to get her into bed, or in the shower, or against the wall…

  “Sir? Who is your appointment with?”

  Forcing himself to look apologetic, and trying to remind his cock to be patient, he faced the receptionist again. “Dr. Connor, but unfortunately I think I need to reschedule.”

  “Oh?” The woman’s fingers stopped on the keyboard.

  Finn fought the urge to smile. “Yes, I’ve just had something important come up that I can’t possibly miss.”

  ***

  The edge of the pillow was fraying, the thread coming out from the seam and Aubrey couldn’t stop plucking at it with her nail even though it would surely ruin it.

  “Aubrey, I’m glad to hear how well things are going at work, but you still haven’t addressed my other question and we only have ten minutes left.” Dr. Kirkland tilted her head, relaxing the pen in her hand so that she wasn’t poised to write on her little notebook like she had been most of the session.

  “It’s been three weeks.” Three weeks, one day, and maybe fifteen hours.

  “Three weeks is very good. I believe it was only two last time. That’s progress, Aubrey.”

  “Right.” She forced her hands flat on top of the pillow, trying to ignore the little loop of thread that was sticking up from the dark pattern.

  “Have you been trying the coping mechanisms we discussed?”

  “You mean finding a hobby other than fucking?” Aubrey laughed under her breath, but was quickly disappointed by the lack of response in her therapist. Nothing seemed to shock Dr. Madeline Kirkland, and her sense of humor had probably died with her ability to be surprised. Begrudgingly, she answered the woman, “I tried that pottery class last week, but it ruined my manicure, and I don’t really feel like going to get my nails done more often than I already have to.”

  “Okay, what about your running club?”

  “Oh, well…” she trailed off, dropping her eyes back to the pillow.

  “Aubrey?” Dr. Kirkland prompted her, but she gritted her teeth against the confession that the other woman wanted. The damn blush in her cheeks was likely answer enough. After nine months of biweekly appointments, the older therapist was more adept at reading Aubrey’s nonverbal cues than her parents. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

  “Not particularly.” Flashing a smile, she thought about changing the subject, her perfectly manicured thumbnail finding its way back under the loop of thread, tugging, pulling at it until she ripped another stitch free with a satisfying, silent pop.

  “Talking about it helps to take incidents we’re not proud of and put them in our pasts. It allows us the opportunity—”

  “To learn from them, I know.” Sighing, Aubrey thought back to the week before, the early morning run before the sun was able to start cooking the streets in Redondo Beach. It had been a light crew for a Thursday morning and they’d kept up an intense pace that had her heart pounding in her ears, drowning out the noise of the other runners’ breathing—but nothing had been able to block out the shirtless new guy to the club. Strong arms, a muscular back, tanned like some golden god. It had taken so little effort to catch his eye, barely a smile to get his attention, a simple exaggeration to the roll of her hips to have him walking with her at the end of the run. The thread under her thumb snapped. “I went for a run with them this past week, but I don’t think I should keep going. I can run on my own.”

  “What happened, Aubrey?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Aubrey.” Dr. Kirkland’s voice took on that maternal edge that made her nose wrinkle. “You’re paying me to help you with this, so why are you paying me if you don’t want to talk about your struggles?”

  “There was a guy, and he and I ended up talking after the run.”

  “Just talking?” The question brought back the memory of his hands under her running top, the rough bark of the tree against her spine as he’d pressed himself against her. Hard cock tempting her, and she’d slid her hand low to cup him, stroke him through the thin fabric of his shorts. He’d thrust against her palm, and she’d licked the sweat from his perfect chest, growling against his mouth when he’d lifted her from the ground to kiss her. They had been a few measly layers of clothing away from a sunrise fuck against the backdrop of the ocean—and then Dr. Kirkland’s voice had intervened, and she’d unwrapped her legs from his hips and pushed him back.

  Dizzy with arousal, soaked in sweat from the run, she’d walked away from him without a word to get to her car. Forced herself to drive away as he stood beneath the tree as confused and lost by her sudden change of mind as she was.

  Why hadn’t she just fucked him?

  “Aubrey, our time is almost up, but no matter what you did you are still a good person, and today is a new day. If the pottery class and the running club aren’t working out, find something else to relieve your stress.”

  “I didn’t do anything with him.” Not anything important anyway. “It was just tempting, and for the record I’ve never thought I’m a bad person.”

  Dr. Kirkland sighed and closed her notebook, setting her pen on top of it. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have used those words, however, you started seeing me for some reason. You didn’t like your behavior, and you admitted to not being able to stop it on your own. Sex addiction isn’t an easy thing to discuss, or to work on, but I’m quite proud of your progress.”

  “Thanks.” Aubrey twirled one end of the broken thread and ripped it further, enjoying the almost inaudible scratch of the seam as it tore.

  “Our next appointment is on Monday. Will you commit to trying something new this weekend? To look for a new coping mechanism?”

  “Sure.”

  The older woman stood and Aubrey flipped the pillow off her lap, leaving the ruined seam aimed down into the cushions as she got up. “If you need another session, just call the office and Allison will find some time for you.”

  Forcing a bright smile, Aubrey shook her head. “You know how hard it is for me to make your last appointment for the day during the workweek, on Fridays that would be impossible. Mondays and Wednesdays work great.”

  “Alright then, we’ll discuss your latest successes on Monday. Have a good week, Aubrey.”

  They shook hands as Dr. Kirkland led her out of the office, and Aubrey could barely contain the itching in her skin. Her hands shook as she paid the receptionist, and she was too antsy to wait and chat with Allison, instead making a lame excuse so she could escape into the hall.

  A few minutes later she was outside the building, in the sweltering heat that was rebounding from the concrete, and it was just making the buzz inside her skin worse. Why had Dr. Kirkland asked about the damn running club? Aubrey hadn’t even thought of him in days. She’d been pouring herself into her job, working twelve-hour days so that when it was time to leave she barely had the energy to drive home.

  And right now, she couldn’t even do that.

  She was too wound up to deal with LA traffic right now. Opening her purse, she pulled out her phone and started walking towards a nearby restaurant. The first call to one of her friends went to voicemail, the second said she already had plans, and by the time she was standing at the bar, she’d sent off four text messages to others looking for a friend to spend the evening with.

  Sure, it was Wednesday night, but they were always asking her to go out. Or at least they had asked her to go out pretty often… until about ten months before.

  “What can I get you?” The bartender was cute. Fuck.

  “A vodka martini, dirty enough that I can’t see the other side.” She said it as plainly as possible, but he smiled and winked at her as he walked away to start her drink. It’s just good customer service, not an offer. Her mouth was dry as she stared down at her phone, trying to will one of her friends to answer.

  A distraction, she needed a di
straction.

  Or a coping mechanism as Dr. Kirkland liked to say every fucking week.

  Just as her martini appeared in front of her, a tall man in a camel colored blazer took a chair two down from hers, raising his hand to catch the bartender’s attention. Aubrey was instantly grateful that she didn’t have to invent small talk that wouldn’t somehow turn into flirting, but it was just some cosmic joke that the new arrival was beyond hot. Dirty blond hair, the barest hint of a five o’clock shadow along his jawline, and when he glanced towards her, he had eyes the color of the Mediterranean Sea. “Rum and coke, thanks.”

  Aubrey swallowed slowly and forced her gaze back to her drink. He had an accent. Fuck. Why those eyes and an accent? An almost aristocratic lilt, but with more music to it. For a moment she could almost imagine what it would sound like against her ear, but she took a long drag from her martini to try and kill the thoughts. Unfortunately, when she glanced over at him again, he was looking at her, and smiling like he knew a secret. “Hi there, rough day?”

  “Just needed a drink,” she answered brusquely. Straight to the point, no flirting.

  “Exactly why I’m here. I spent my whole day having people tell me what to do and I just want to be free of it for a few silent minutes.” He picked up his phone and held down the power button, swiping the screen when it offered to power off. “See? No more annoying calls. And here’s my drink!”

  “Are you a model or an actor or something?” she asked, and couldn’t hide the smile when he almost choked on his rum and coke.

  “No, I’m not, but if that was your version of a pick-up line… I’m listening, gorgeous.” His smile was sinful as he brushed a thumb over his lip to clear it of the alcohol he’d almost spit on the bar.

  “You wish,” she laughed and looked down to twirl the stem of her martini back and forth. Her skin tingled when he moved to the chair directly beside hers, sliding the glass over the bar top, and Aubrey carefully kept him in her peripheral vision—but then he laughed and it was the most rich, enticing sound. Masculine, and rumbling, and full of unfettered amusement.

  “What if my wish was that you let me buy you another drink so I could be distracted a little longer?”

  It was a mistake to look at him. To raise her eyes to those sea green mischievous portals and see what he offered. It was foolish to smile at him, to lick her bottom lip to draw his gaze to her mouth. But the worst mistake was the nod, the agreement to a drink, because she didn’t even have to think about how much trouble she was about to be in.

  Three weeks, one day, sixteen hours… Fuck it.

  She could start over tomorrow.

  Chapter Two

  Finn wasn’t prepared for how much he wanted her attention, or for the almost electric power of her caramel eyes. She had initially glanced at him with the same attraction that a thousand other women had, but then she’d laughed him off like a joke. Mocked him.

  That never happened.

  The bartender delivered the next round he’d requested, and he ran his eyes over her lips as she popped an olive into her sweet mouth and bit down. His cock twitched behind his zipper, already hungry for her and he didn’t even know her name. “I’m Finn.”

  “Aubrey.”

  Leaning back, he took a slow drink, enjoying the curves of her body as she hooked her heels on the rungs of the chair. It was impossible not to imagine those sleek black heels on his shoulders, her soft lips parted around cries of ecstasy as he moved inside her—but he needed to know more than her positively perfect name. Aubrey. As beautiful and fascinating as she appeared. “So, you granted my first wish, think you want to grant my second?”

  Her eyes tracked his hand as he moved the fresh martini towards her, just as dirty as the first. “Depends on the wish, Finn.”

  “Tell me something about you no one else knows.”

  She laughed again, light and bright, and when her gaze landed on his, it was a riddle that he wanted to solve. Was she interested? Simply entertained? Everything about this woman had him focused on more than just what he could do to her. He actually wanted an answer. “I ate cat food when I was six.”

  Almost choking on his drink, Finn slapped the bar and sat up straight as she started laughing again, the sparkle in her caramel eyes tinged with a positively wicked gleam. “You’re joking.”

  “Not at all. I was dared to, so I did.”

  “By who?”

  “A cousin.”

  “I can’t believe you told me that.” Staring at her, he was even more mesmerized. She wasn’t putting on some fake sheen of perfection, not like she needed it, and she wasn’t flirting—but he had to have her.

  “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to,” she warned, trading her empty martini glass for the new one. “Your turn.”

  “My turn?”

  “Tell me something about you that no one else knows.”

  “I didn’t think this was a game,” he said, toying with the rim of his glass, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she took slow, even breaths… but this woman was so much more than a distracting figure, she was captivating.

  “You don’t want to play? That’s fine.” Aubrey turned away from him, tucking her knees under the edge of the bar as she faced forward, dropping her eyes down to her phone to check her notifications.

  For the first time in his life a woman turned away from him while he was hitting on her, and it took a moment for Finn to even process it. This was unusual, merkelig, weird… and he liked it. Reaching forward, he caught her elbow, and answered, “I go to Malaga Cove in Palos Verdes at least once a week just to be alone.”

  “That’s not interesting,” she scoffed, tugging her elbow free and taking a sip of her martini without as much as a side glance at him.

  Dropping his phone on the bar between them, he nudged it closer to her. “Go on, turn it on and tell me how many missed calls and messages I have just in the time we’ve been here.”

  That earned a look from her, full of doubt, but enough curiosity that she finally reached for the phone and held down the power button to turn it on. Finn knew the moment it was fully powered on, because it started to buzz against her delicate fingers. Once, twice, three times, and then more. Again and again as the little device downloaded the missed messages from the maybe ten minutes they’d been talking. It had been a gamble, but the slight widening of her beautiful eyes showed that it had paid off.

  Finn plucked the device from between her fingers and turned it face down on the bar. “None of them ever know where I disappear to, but now you do. Maybe that’s not interesting to you, but there are a lot of people who would love to have that bit of information.”

  Her smile widened into a wicked grin, and he was rewarded with her gaze meeting his full force. “So, why should I keep your secret if it’s so valuable?”

  “Why should I keep yours?”

  “No one cares about mine,” she answered, a hint of vicious intent in her voice that turned him on more than he wanted to admit.

  “Oh, you think so? I’m sure there’s some boyfriend who—”

  “There’s no boyfriend.” More carefree, tinkling laughter that made his pants feel tight, while confirming her freedom—not like it would have stopped him. “And they wouldn’t care anyway.”

  “So you think… I’m not sure that girls who eat cat food are that hot on the market.” Finally, his usual cocky smile graced his lips, and the slightly shocked look she gave him made him want to kiss her. To taste the mixture of vodka and olive juice on her tongue.

  Aubrey leaned closer to him then, almost whispering the words, “You must not know LA very well, Finn. No one gives a shit about your past, or where you hide, they just care about what you look like and what you can do for their resume.” It was said with such bite that he knew she believed it—and the worst part was that he couldn’t argue it. Most of the people he knew were because of his looks, and his connections, but she was something new. Different.

  “I’ve b
een here for almost six years.”

  Aubrey laughed again, suppressing it with a long drink of her martini as she tipped it up. “Then you have no idea what LA is like, pretty boy.”

  “You think I’m pretty?” he grinned, and she rolled her eyes.

  “I should not have stroked your ego.”

  “Want to stroke something else instead?”

  “I would ruin you,” she purred, and the blood surged to his dick so fast his vision tunneled. Narrowing on the hint of cleavage. Her slender legs. Those bottomless soft brown eyes... Then she reached forward to brush her palm over the hard bulge of his cock, and his body tensed, well aware of the others scattered around the restaurant. “Trust me, you don’t want to keep flirting with me, pretty-boy-Finn.”

  Fuck it. He’d never cared about an audience before, and he wasn’t going to start now.

  Not if she wanted to play.

  Leaning towards her, he ran a thumb across her cheek before he caught the side of her neck, pulling her within inches of his lips. “Ruin me?” he chuckled. “That’s usually my line, Aubrey.”

  “I like the way you say my name.” Her palm stroked more firmly over the outline of his dick, and he had to suppress the shudder that tensed his balls and thrummed up his spine.

  “Aubrey,” he repeated, a little lower, a little more of a growl to it, and she squeezed just enough to have him groaning and wishing he could reach under her skirt to return the favor. But the shiver that ran through her muscles made him smile, wicked and predatory, and he wanted her more than he’d thought possible. Not just as some conquest, some notch on his scarred bedposts, but to ruin her like she’d promised to ruin him.

  “I think I have your third wish already.”

  “You think you know what I want?”

  She leaned forward, rubbing him through the pale fabric of his pants until he had to clench his teeth against a moan. Aubrey’s lips brushed his ear, whispering, “Meet me in the women’s room, last stall, and fuck me.”