by Susan Stoker
“Don’t let him BS you, Finn is the once and future king!”
“PRINCE FINN!” A few of them called out, and then the whole group chanted it a few times, until he raised his middle finger and they all started laughing again.
What the fuck?
A guy to her left tapped her arm, leaning close with a big grin. “We call him Prince Finn because he’s royalty in Norway. He’s just hiding out here in LA, slumming it with the Americans until he takes his throne.”
“That is not—” Finn tried to interrupt, but the man on his other side was already talking again as crimson crept into the blond fuckboy’s cheeks.
“Seriously, he’s actual royalty. In line for the throne of Norway! Where did you think all the money came from?” The guy started laughing as Aubrey settled her gaze on the man they’d all cheered. He was smiling, rolling his eyes at the group as he threw back the rest of his vodka soda and set it down, but there was a dark drink already waiting for him as he leaned up, accepting it from the buddy who had been harassing him with the royalty shit.
If this is a pick-up game, he’s trying way too hard, she thought to herself as she watched him, the slight flush staying in his cheeks even as he tried to act casual. He was avoiding her eyes now, dancing his gaze around the crowd in front of them, but it was only making her smile wider.
Finn was embarrassed.
“Did they touch a nerve, Prince Finn?” she whispered towards him, and he sighed heavily.
“Look… do you want to see the roof?” he asked, voice low.
“Why not.” Aubrey kept a hold of her drink as she stood to follow him, taking note of the way the eyes of the group followed him. He led her down a short hall at the back of the bar, and then through a door she would have pegged for a broom closet, but it was actually a narrow set of stairs. When they came out on the roof, she almost gasped. The sun was burning golden-red, low on the horizon, glinting off the glass buildings in a beautiful array of colors.
Finn walked ahead, leaning against the wall lining the edge of the roof, which someone had taken the time to clean up. A collection of nice tables and chairs were tucked under a large wooden pergola strung with lights—a veritable oasis from the clamor of the bar. “Sorry about them.” He shrugged, smiling to himself before he took a drink from his glass. “They get a little excited around anyone new to the group.”
“They didn’t bother me at all.” Wandering the rooftop, Aubrey finally chose a chair under the pergola that still gave her a nice view of the sunset—but her eyes were stuck on Finn. Broad shoulders filled out his shirt with more than a little help from his firm chest, the golden light picking up the five o’clock shadow on his jaw. She smiled at him when he raised his gaze to hers. “This is a nice spot.”
“Yeah, I know the owner. He let me in on the secret.” Finn said it casually, but it made her grin spread as he wandered over to take the seat beside hers. Why was he trying so hard to impress her?
She’d already fucked him. What else did he want?
Leaning close, Aubrey made sure her lips were almost brushing his ear when she spoke softly, “So, how much did you pay those guys downstairs to play this royalty card in front of me?”
The strange expression on his face when he pulled back to look at her was more of a response than anything else he might have said, and her laughter died on her lips. It was true. She knew it almost instantly, and for a second it felt like the floor had dropped out from under her.
Royalty? Seriously?
“Wow. You really are, aren’t you?” Aubrey leaned back into her chair before summoning a smirk. “Weird. You don’t fuck like a prince.”
Take that, Cinderella. She'd take bathroom stalls over fancy balls any day of the week.
Finn almost choked on his drink, and it made the smile passing over her lips more real. If there was one thing she was enjoying more than anything, it was shocking Prince Finn. He recovered quickly though, angling towards her to correct her, “Look, I am not a prince. Ignore those idiots, okay?”
“Okay. So, what was the comment about you being in line for the throne of Norway?” As much as he clearly wanted to drop it, Aubrey couldn’t. He was clearly anxious, and with all the talk of royalty, and money, and a party—she needed to know just who was sending her cat food and baiting her with snarky notes to come out and play.
Rubbing a hand over his face, he sunk down a little in the chair, raising his eyes to the pieces of multi-colored sky that were visible through the rectangles of wood above them. “I’m sixty-first in line for the throne, which means absolutely nothing. My father is a cousin of the royal family, but he doesn’t hold any titles, I’m not going to inherit any titles, and every new kid born up the chain knocks me down another peg.” He glanced over at her, a shadow in his usually playful expression. “It will never fucking happen.”
***
“Okay.” The single word left Aubrey’s lips, halting his train of thought instantly, and then her eyes were on the sunset. He stared at her profile in shock for a moment, unable to ignore the delicate point of her nose, or the way the sun was turning her hair copper in places.
“Okay?” he asked, stunned.
“Yeah, why does it matter? You’re not as special as you think.” She grinned, and he found himself laughing because she’d said almost the same thing to him the night before in the bathroom.
The pressure in his chest eased as he smiled. “Don’t you remember, Aubrey? I always feel special.”
“Right.” She laughed. “You know, feeling special doesn’t actually make you special, Finn.” There was an edge to the way she said his name, a sharpness that made him want to take her again, up here on the roof. Special, or not, he’d still made her come hard and that had just been a quick fuck. If he could take his time? He could absolutely ruin her.
Which had been the whole purpose behind the gift.
“Touché.” He took a sip of the rum and coke, letting the sweetness coat his tongue, and he briefly wondered what she tasted like—but that could wait for a few more minutes. Tracing a pattern in the wood with his thumb, he kept his voice casual. “Honestly, I’m just surprised you don’t care about the royalty thing.”
“Money doesn’t impress me.” Aubrey shifted in her chair so that she could see him more easily. “Neither do connections, royal or not.”
“Oh, it’s not the money part that surprised me. That wouldn’t have impressed you with the work you do.”
“Yeaaahh…” She set her martini down on the short table in front of them before meeting his eyes again. “How exactly did you find out where I work?”
Fuck.
“Google.” Finn lied, plastering his normal cocky smile on his face. “You gave me your name, and your number. It’s not like you were hard to find.”
“Why didn’t you just call me?”
“Would you have answered?” he asked, grinning when she pulled the bottom of her perfect pink lips between her teeth.
“No,” she admitted, before grinning back. “I don’t answer numbers I don’t know.”
“And whose fault is that? You didn’t ask for my number.”
“I didn’t want it,” Aubrey retorted, and a laugh escaped his lips as he stared at her. Astonished.
Who the fuck is this girl?
“You didn’t want it,” he repeated, doubt tinting his voice.
She shrugged, leaning forward to pick up her almost empty martini so she could finish it off. “Why would I need your number, Finn?”
Ignoring her question, he asked one of his own. “Why do you keep saying my name like that?”
“Because it sounds like a fake name.”
“My name is Harald Finn Solberg, so I’m sure you can tell why I go by Finn here in the states.”
“That’s a mouthful,” she laughed.
“Not the first time a woman has told me that.” Smiling, he reveled in the way she laughed. It wasn’t a fake laugh, one of those bright, delicate giggles that women used at parti
es to try and sound feminine. It was real, a little husky, and full of the hum of her voice when she moaned—and his cock twitched in his pants remembering the way she’d sounded against his ear.
“You think you’re hot stuff?”
“I know it, beautiful.” He winked at her, and then she started laughing again and he couldn’t help but join in. Aubrey Dean, CPA and random bathroom fuckbuddy, made him feel different, made him feel not special, which was strangely appealing.
Everyone always deferred to him. Either because of his looks, or because they knew he had money, or because of his loose connections to the royal line in Norway—something his father never missed an opportunity to mention.
But she didn’t care, hadn’t even wanted to see him again, and hadn’t changed her attitude at all since she’d learned who he really was from his idiot crew of friends.
She pushed a hand through her chocolate colored waves, the laughter making her warm brown eyes sparkle. “God, you’re so fucking cocky. This is why I thought you were some wannabe actor, or model, or whatever.” She shook her head at him. “But instead you’re some off-brand prince? I hate to admit it, but you’re actually interesting, Finn.”
Had she just called him an off-brand prince? Wait. Had she just called him interesting?
The insul—compliment?—made his cock twitch, forced him to adjust in his seat, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with Aubrey, but having her say she was interested somehow felt like scoring the winning goal in a soccer match, topping 190kph on the highway, and cliff-diving into cold water all at once. Disbelief followed by more than a little pride. “Thanks, you’re pretty interesting yourself.”
She hummed an acknowledgement, looking down at her empty glass. “So, why did you invite me here if you were just going to hide out on the roof all night? You’re making this feel like a date again.”
Just as he was about to argue the point, the lights in the lattice above them came on, bathing her in their soft white glow, and his witty response dissipated on the tip of his tongue. Dirty minded, smart, and gorgeous. Aubrey Dean was like no one else, and that meant all his usual lines were useless. As they stared at each other in the evening light, he was stuck.
It felt like a bad joke: What does one sex addict say to the other sex addict?
If anyone could tell him the punch line, that would be really helpful.
He knew it was wrong to have had someone research her, to have sent the gift, to have lured her here just so he could see her again, to try and have her again—but he didn’t really give a fuck about right and wrong.
He never had.
For Finn, it was always going with whatever felt good, and Aubrey felt fucking amazing.
Reaching forward, he slid a hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her towards him before she could protest. Their lips collided like flint striking in a spray of sparks. She nipped him before opening her mouth so his tongue could brush hers, tasting the salty brine of the olive in her martini, along with the intoxicating flavor of her. It was stupid, and dangerous, because she could just as easily walk away like she had the night before—but she leaned towards him instead, and he wanted it. Wanted her. The kiss burned hot, the intensity of it making his balls tighten, blood filling his cock, and then her hands were in his hair gripping tight.
It was the soft moan that buzzed against his mouth, just before her body lifted from her chair and onto his lap, which snapped him back to reality. Pulling away from her lips as she straddled him in the chair, settling back on his thighs, he tried to think straight, to focus, to speak before he lost control. “Come to my party tomorrow night.”
“What party?” she asked, cheeks flushed in the most perfect way, her breaths a little harder than normal, which just made him want her even more.
But if he wanted to ruin her, there was only one place for that.
“I throw a party twice a month at my place. It’s how I know all those idiots downstairs.” He grinned, running his palms up her thighs, skipping over the edge of her skirt to grasp her hips. “I do have to warn you though, it gets pretty wild.”
“Wilder than me?” Aubrey grinned, wicked and deviant, and he almost said that it was perfect for her, because she was like him—at least he hoped she was like him.
Only one way to find out.
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” he teased, and it worked. She landed her hands on the chair back on either side of his head, those intense caramel eyes closing in, her breasts almost brushing his chest.
“You’re fucking with me. You just want me at the party. Admit it.”
“What part of ‘come to my party tomorrow night’ made you think otherwise?” Finn kept his voice steady, ignoring the erection pressing painfully against his fly, which she’d feel if she moved forward even an inch further.
“Why do you think I’d even want to come to your party, Harald Finn Solberg?”
Fuck it.
He grabbed her hips and dragged her forward, buckling her knees against the chair so that he could feel the heat of her core over his hard-on. Aubrey’s cheeks were flushed, her breaths coming faster, and then he rolled his hips against her in one sinfully mimed thrust. “Tell me you don’t want to come to the party, Aubrey middle name Dean, and I won’t ask again. I won’t call you. I’ll delete your fucking number. Right here, right now.”
Her lips parted like she was going to speak, but he reached up and cupped her cheek, thumb tracing her mouth as he held her head still.
“Say you don’t want to see what I can show you, find out all the things we could do, and you’ll never hear from me again.” It was risky, a hell of a gamble, but he knew she was worth the all-in.
He just had to hope he’d played his cards right.
Those caramel eyes evaluated him, performing whatever risk assessment she normally did at her day job, using areas of her brain he’d probably never even touched in his, and it only turned him on more. She was so damn different, so unique, and he wanted to hear her say yes, wanted to demand she say yes—but that would make her run. He knew it, so he stayed quiet, meeting her gaze with the same intensity she stared at him. Feeling the heat between them that threatened to scorch them both without moving an inch.
“Tomorrow wouldn’t be a date either,” she whispered, and energy rushed through him like static electricity, making his hair stand on end with the possibilities. Aubrey Dean at one of his parties? The options were fucking endless.
He grinned, chuckling softly as he slid his hand to the back of her neck so their lips were almost touching again. “Trust me, beautiful, you wouldn’t mistake tomorrow for a date.”
“Is that a promise?” she panted, her knees tightening against his ribs.
“I promise.” As soon as the words left his lips, he kissed her, and she moaned against him, rocking her hips. More than anything he wanted to be inside her, his cock screaming at him to take the chance, to sink into the warm, wet, tight place that would satisfy them both for the moment—but he held back. Luxuriating in the feel of her tongue against his, the soft sound of her satisfaction as she moved against the hard ridge of his erection, torturing them both, and he let himself have it for the moment. Relaxed his guard just enough to grip her hips in both his hands and control her, grinding against her like they were teenagers making out, and the sounds she made were heavenly—or sent straight from hell to torment him—either way, he didn’t care. He enjoyed it for a moment longer, memorizing the way she smelled, tasted, felt, and then he abruptly forced her off his lap.
Heels clicking to the roof, he held on as she found her balance, and then let go because touching her any more would be disastrous. He had found the edge of his self-control and frayed it to fuck. One more taste of her and he’d lose it and take her on the hot concrete.
“Marilyn,” she breathed, and he stared at her in lust-dazed confusion, wondering for a moment if he’d lost his mind.
“What?”
“It’s my middle name. Only fair since I know yours.” Her pretty pink lips were closer to rouge now, swollen from their kisses.
“Like Marilyn Monroe?” Finn asked, trying not to imagine her singing him happy birthday.
“Exactly like that. My mom has a thing for the golden age of film.” Aubrey’s eyes traced down to the blatant outline of his erection tenting the front of his khakis. “I’ll come to the party.”
It was a miracle that he didn’t come in his pants right then, watching her tongue trace her bottom lip, reminding him of just how good it had felt inside her throat, between her thighs, her pussy clenching him—Finn cleared his throat and forced his gaze back to her eyes. “Good. I’ll text you the address, and then you’ll have my number.”
“Okay,” she answered, sounding just as dazed as he felt. “I think I want another drink.”
Standing slowly, adjusting himself in his pants as he thought of kittens, and puppies, and the idea of his visa getting revoked, he demanded his erection disappear so he could follow through with what he was about to say. “Then let’s go back downstairs and rejoin the party, I’ve got a few friends who would love to buy you a drink just to find out who you are.”
“I can buy my own drinks,” Aubrey mumbled, turning away from him as she tucked her chocolate colored waves behind her ears.
“I remember.” He grinned, guiding her to the stairwell, wondering how in the hell he was going to last until tomorrow night without fucking her.
Isn’t patience a virtue or some shit? Finn clenched his jaw tight as he watched her descend the stairs, her thighs teasing him with each swish of her skirt, and he knew one thing for sure.
If she didn’t show up tomorrow, if he never got to touch her again, he was never going to forgive himself for missing this opportunity with her.
Chapter Five
Sitting in the Friday morning meeting, listening to her peers drone on about updates to accounts, Aubrey couldn’t stop re-reading the simple text message Finn had sent the night before, after they’d gone back downstairs and started drinking with his friends. While she was desperately trying to ignore the humming tingle between her thighs, listening to everyone laugh and cheer as she was grilled for personal information—she’d felt the buzz in her purse and seen him smirking down at his phone.