My Royal Sin

by Riley Pine

  I see Diamond, Amethyst and Topaz. Emerald is leading a patron up the stairs by his tie. Opal is putting on an old-fashioned burlesque show on a small stage in the room to my right. A trio of Danish businessmen stare in rapt attention.

  But my Pearl is waiting for me on the third floor, in a room designed to look like the sea. I climb the stairs with slow purpose, my cock stirring in anticipation.

  It’s been too long.

  The door to her bedchamber isn’t latched, so I push it open—and frown. The giant oyster-shaped bed is empty. Instead, there is a Bluetooth earpiece resting in the center of an overstuffed pillow.

  Shit.

  Looks like business is coming first.

  I hate it when that happens.

  I pop in the earpiece. “White Knight is in the castle,” I say, using the old code name for Damien.

  “They’re saying amnesia,” the husky female voice answers in my ear. “Is it real or an act?”

  “Hard to say.” I cross my arms. “Seems legitimate, but we’ve seen good actors before.”

  “This would be just the sort of diabolical ruse Nightgardin would attempt to try to gain access to the Spring. Corrupt one of our own, and turn him into a plant to betray us from the inside.”

  “Or he really has lost his memory.”

  “Figure it out,” she snaps. The line goes dead.

  “Good night to you, too,” I say wryly, removing the earpiece and throwing it out the open window. It self-destructs before it hits the ground in a staccato crack, like a car backfiring.

  I don’t take it personally. The Order prides itself on absolute focus on the mission to prevent a cataclysmic world war over the Spring. But we’re all human. Even her, once my protégé and now my boss.

  We all have feelings.

  The floor creaks behind me, and suddenly I am having a hell of a lot of feelings. I turn to find Pearl dressed like Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany’s right down to the cigarette holder, little black dress and pearl choker.

  She knows she’s killing me slowly.

  “You done with work yet?” She pouts. “Not very nice, kicking a girl out of her room.”

  “Sorry, babe,” I say. “You wouldn’t believe the day that I’ve had.”

  She drops the cigarette holder and crushes the ember with the toe of her stiletto before undoing her dress. It falls to the ground, and my cock responds with unbridled need.

  Even my self-control has limits.

  She stands with her legs spread, wearing fucking garters, and I spy a small wet spot in the apex of her sheer thong.

  “Forget about saving the world tonight.” She kneads her breasts in the push-up bra. “Let me save you for once.”

  “From what?” I lick my lips. Ready for the feast ahead.

  She arches a brow and drops her gaze to the giant erection in my suit pants. “Yourself.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from No Strings by Cara Lockwood.

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  No Strings

  by Cara Lockwood

  PROLOGUE

  Saturday

  HE STOOD BEFORE HER, the curve of his bare chest an invitation as he stood in the moonlit hotel suite overlooking the glass high-rises of downtown Chicago. She ran her finger down the firm slope of his well-defined muscles, amazed at their taut perfection. He gently slid the bra strap down off her shoulder, the wisp of his touch setting her skin on fire, and all she could think was: I don’t even know his name. I’m going to let this man do whatever he wants to me, and I have no idea what to even call him.

  She opened her mouth to ask, once more, but he covered her lips with his, and the question of the night evaporated in the heat of animal want. A moan escaped her, as he deftly undid the front clasp, setting her heavy breasts free. He dipped down, expertly flicking a tongue across one nipple, bringing it to attention. He then cupped the other in his strong hand, kneading it with intent.

  His mouth is on me and I don’t know what he does for a living. I don’t even know if he has a dog. Or hell, a wife. I met this man one hour ago. A simple text exchange from an app on my phone. And now I’m here, half naked...

  “I—I’ve never done this before...a stranger, I mean,” she murmured. He nibbled her nipple, the flick of teeth on the soft skin making her shiver. “This is... I mean, this is crazy. I don’t usually do this.”

  He straightened, meeting her gaze with his unnervingly perfect hazel eyes. A lazy grin spread across his handsome face, warming up his squared-off jaw. “Even good girls should be bad, once in a while.”

  She was a good girl. She never did this kind of thing. She’d only ever had sex with two other men her whole life, and both of them after a minimum of three months of dating first, but something about him made her feel reckless. Wild.

  “I just can’t believe...” She wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten here this fast, how she’d met a man and within an hour, was letting him see her everything. To put his hands and his mouth on her body. “I just... I don’t know anything about you.”

  “You having second thoughts?” He paused, hazel eyes fixing her in a
locked stare.

  “No,” she said. No, she wanted him. She did.

  He pressed his hard, muscled chest against hers, dipping his face so close their noses nearly touched. “And all you need to know about me is this,” he promised. She felt heat rise in her very core. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. And, God, did she want him. She’d wanted this the moment they’d met in the hotel bar an hour ago. She’d decided then in that split second to let him do what he wanted. She was willing.

  “You can tell me whatever you want me to do to you. I want you to tell me.” She sucked in a breath and her knees trembled slightly. She didn’t have to be a good girl. Not with him. She could be bad. Very, very bad. She could do whatever she wanted. She could let him do...whatever he wanted.

  She could feel her want, soaking the thin fabric of the lace, the last thin barrier between her and this rash act she was about to commit, this terrible, inconceivably bad thing. Part of her wanted to say no, but her body was in control now. Her body wanted this, wanted it badly, and she became simply an animal in heat, overcome by desire and thousands of years of instinct. For this night, she would give in to her basest desires. There was no turning back now. She was going to give her everything to a man she didn’t know, to a perfect stranger. She was going to let him do things to her no man had before.

  And she was going to like it.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The day before

  EMMA ALLAIRE STARED at the newly downloaded Nost app on her phone and sighed. “You’re sure I need to do this?” she asked her best friend, Sarah, once more as they sat together at their favorite brunch place in Lincoln Square, the mild, not quite fall air of mid-September gliding across the open patio as people meandered past them on the busy city sidewalk. Nost, short for No Strings, was the latest hookup app that all of her friends were talking about, a place to meet men for casual sex. The app’s ominous black logo appeared on her phone and she double-tapped it.

  “Em, just give it a shot, okay?” said her gorgeous redheaded friend with the perfect alabaster skin, the curves that didn’t quit and the string of musician boyfriends who paraded in and out of her life. “You never know until you try.”

  “But this is what’s wrong with us,” Emma cried, holding up her phone, to show Nost’s loading page. It read, “No names. No strings. 100% fun.” She pushed up her black-framed, librarian glasses and scowled at her phone. “How is anyone going to find true love like this?” She showed Sarah a picture of a shirtless man making a kissing face at a mirror. The app implored her to “swipe right for a good time” or “nope, swipe left.”

  “Honey, you know this isn’t about true love. It’s about getting off.” Sarah’s eyes gleamed.

  Emma shrieked a laugh. “What are you even talking about?”

  Sarah waved her fork in the air. “Wait, you do get off, don’t you?”

  Emma felt her face flush red. “Um... Yes. I do.”

  Just, you know, with only two guys. Ever. In her whole dating history, but Sarah didn’t need to know that right now.

  Sarah pushed up her sunglasses on her nose and leaned back, lifting her face to the fall sunshine coating the small patio of the restaurant. “Good. I thought for a second you were one of those poor souls who’d never had an orgasm.”

  Emma glanced around the restaurant, suddenly worried someone might overhear. Sarah just shook her head at her friend. “Orgasm!” she cried, louder, and a father of two glanced over at their table and frowned.

  “Hush!” Emma commanded. Not that it would do any good. Sarah spoke her mind. Their server appeared then, placing delicious-looking plates of food in front of them. Sarah dug in, while Emma focused on the app.

  “This is what is wrong with us. Anonymous one-nighters? I mean, you are seriously going to have sex with a man and all you know is his handle is...” Emma peered at her screen. “Hot4U?”

  Sarah laughed a little. “Who cares about love when he’s got abs like that?” she said, pointing to the man’s six-pack.

  “And enough tattoo ink on him to write War and Peace,” Emma pointed out. “He’s got two arm sleeve tattoos.”

  “You just have to fuck him, not marry him,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes, as she forked a mouthful of spinach quiche into her mouth. “And bad boys are very good in bed. Live a little, Em. Seriously. You know you settle too fast for just about any guy who buys you a drink. Then you end up in a two-year relationship with them while they bore your friends to death.”

  Emma knew she was talking about Devin, her last boyfriend with the less-than-sparkling personality. He’d been the only other guy she’d seriously dated other than her high school boyfriend.

  “Not all of my exes are that way.”

  “You need to date around. Hell, sleep around. Not just commit to the very first guy who shows up. You know I’m right.” Sarah studied her friend.

  Emma twirled a loose tendril of hair around her finger and sighed. She glanced down at her flowy, flowered peasant top and her modest jeans and tried to imagine herself meeting up with Mr. Tattoo and taking all her clothes off. She simply couldn’t.

  “I need romance,” Emma declared. “There’s no romance in this. This is what men want. It’s not what women want.”

  Sarah snorted. “How do you know if you’ve never tried it?”

  “I know that this is just one more way men are manipulating us into thinking that what they want is somehow us being liberated,” said Emma, her women’s studies major coming out in blazing good form. “This is just Girls Gone Wild in sex app form.”

  “Em, can you spare me the feminist rant until after I’ve finished my mimosa?” Sarah held up her champagne glass.

  “No...this is what I do for a living.” She wrote freelance stories about women’s issues for a women’s online magazine, and she had a small but loyal following. “And because clearly you’re being manipulated by the patriarchy,” Emma declared and grinned. She knew what she sounded like: a militant femi-Nazi. But honestly, she felt like she was the only one who could see it—the fact that the wage gap was still a thing. And that the US was the only industrialized nation not to offer paid maternity leave, and...now there was Nost. Like Tinder, but in its most extreme form. The app men didn’t have to even try to get laid. She was all for the sexual revolution, but not when it meant that the advantage went entirely to men.

  “This is just...this is just one more way men have tricked us into getting what they want. Sex and no commitment.”

  “Fine, so delete it,” Sarah said, sighing, showing her exasperation, as she finished off the last of her meal. Emma, who had already devoured her blueberry waffle, wondered, not for the first time, how she and Sarah, so total opposites, ever got along. Their random pairing as college roommates had set off an unlikely friendship: Sarah, the impulsive redhead, who never flinched at a dare, and Emma, the bookworm, who one day hoped to run for elected office. If she were honest with herself, finding Mr. Right ranked somewhere between growing her blog readership base and putting money in her IRA. Dating just didn’t seem important at the moment—she was just twenty-eight. She had plenty of time. At least, that’s what she told herself. After her last disastrous relationship, where her boyfriend, Devin, chose a new job in Seattle over her, she just wasn’t too into the idea of putting herself out there again.

  “Actually,” Sarah said, sipping her mimosa. “You don’t even need to delete it. Your profile will become invisible to the guys on your screen in forty-eight hours.”

  “What? Why?”

  Sarah put down her fork, and looked exasperated. She flipped her dark red hair off one shoulder.

  “Because the whole point of it is not to have a relationship longer than that. Every two days, you get a whole new slew of potential guys and the old ones can’t find you. Every time, it’s new, and the best part is, there’s no awkward follow-up. You have sex and then—whoosh!
—you disappear. It’s ghosting, but the app does it for you. Everybody knows the score. Nobody gets hurt.”

  Emma put her head in her hands and groaned. “Are you kidding me?” She peeked at Sarah from her fingers. “The profiles become invisible?”

  “That’s the point,” Sarah said. “Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. Emphasis on the bamming part.”

  “Sarah! What about rapists? Serial killers?” Emma couldn’t believe her friend was even seriously suggesting anonymous sex. Wasn’t that beyond sketchy?

  “The good ones already have a background check. See that little v next to ‘Hot4U’? He uploaded a background check. No felonies. Nost verified him. So, you don’t have to.”

  Emma blew bangs out of her eyes. “What about...STDs?”

  “See that little c next to him?”

  Emma nodded.

  “That means he’s been tested in the last month. He’s clear.”

  “I guess they’ve thought of everything. You know, except real human intimacy.”

  “Ha. Ha. Very funny. Don’t knock it till you try it.” Sarah pointed at Emma with her fork.

  “Seriously, though, how can you do...this?”

  “I’m busy. I work sixty hours a week because those commercial buildings aren’t going to sell themselves. And, yeah, it’s kind of hot.” She took a swig of her mimosa, finishing it, and glanced back at Emma. “And, a one-night stand? I mean, who hasn’t had one of those?”

  Emma froze. She hadn’t, actually. She could never imagine herself getting naked in front of a stranger. She’d only ever had sex with her high school boyfriend, whom she’d dated three years before they’d even had sex, and then her post-college boyfriend, Devin, whom she dated three months before they’d done the deed. How could someone just... jump into bed with a man they’d only just met? By the time she’d had sex with someone she was already emotionally invested, even in love. She couldn’t imagine it any other way.