Princess For Them

by Kelsey Blaine

  Shelby furrowed her brow. “But?” she asked.

  “But my company has some very strict policies about employee fraternization.”

  “What do you…” Shelby began, then realized. “Oh. Oh.”

  Andre was still smiling down at her and she had to take a quick step back. Everything was getting to be a little too much, happening too fast.

  Shelby nodded toward Svetlana and Jackson, entwined on the dance floor and moving gracefully between other happily dancing pairs. “It drove him crazy, seeing you roll in here with her as your date. He’s been asking her out for months and she keeps shooting him down, you know.”

  “Oh, I know,” Andre laughed. “Why do you think I brought her?”

  Realization spread over Shelby. Andre had brought Svetlana as bait, something to distract Jackson so Andre could have Shelby all to himself.

  “Well played, Mr. Kennedy,” Shelby said. “Well played, indeed.”

  Andre offered her his arm. “What do you say we slip out, while our dates are happily distracted?”

  “I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” Shelby replied, hiking up the edge of her dress so they could make a fast escape from the ballroom.

  ***

  Andre’s penthouse was like nothing Shelby had ever seen, and she worked for one of the richest men in the world. Jackson Archer Jr. had expensive tastes and Shelby had been in her share of swanky hotel rooms, but Andre’s room took her breath away.

  Every wall was made of picture windows, so they had a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the city of Paris. The Eiffel Tower twinkled brightly in the distance, Sacre Coeur shone from the top of its hillside, rows and rows of windows glowed on the city streets. As Shelby pressed herself to the glass to take in the view, Andre sidled up behind her, running his warm palms down the sides of her biceps.

  He kissed her softly, at the tender juncture of neck and shoulder.

  “Stay with me tonight, Shelby,” Andre whispered into the soft pink shell of her ear, and she trembled as his breath ghosted over her skin.

  “Of course,” she replied, turning away from the view of Paris to the view of something even better. “Of course, I’ll stay with you, Dre.”

  Shelby reached up and stroked his cheek, enjoying the way the pale skin of her hand stood out in contrast to the dark, rich brown of his handsome face. Andre had the beginning of a five o’clock shadow, and the stubble scratched her fingers.

  The electricity that she’d felt earlier, yesterday in Paris when they’d almost kissed, built up again, stronger and more desperate. There was a crackle of current, something rich and intoxicating making the sliver of air between them glimmer with anticipation and longing.

  Andre closed his eyes as Shelby stroked his face, exploring the square angles of his jawline, the softness of his full lips. His eyelids flickered as she traced her fingernail over the edge of his mouth.

  “Kiss me,” he whispered, keeping his eyes closed.

  Shelby did, giving in to an urge that she’d been denying for days. Andre’s mouth was warm and soft against hers, returning the force of her own kiss without pushing too hard and fast, letting Shelby set the pace.

  She pressed in, lining the front of her body against his, enjoying the way the firmness of his toned chest and abdomen felt against her full breasts, her taut stomach.

  Shelby slipped one foot between Andre’s feet, slotting her thigh between his, and pressed her hips forward, reveling in the hardness that pressed back against her.

  “Oh, god, Shelby,” Andre hissed, his eyes still tightly closed.

  She took one hand and led him to the sofa, pushing him back into the thick, plush golden cushions. Andre made to move, to sit up, but Shelby pushed him back and straddled him, returning her mouth to his.

  Andre moaned, the urgent vibrations of his cry sending quivers across Shelby’s skin. She shucked off his jacket and slid him out of it, then turned her focus to removing his crisp white dress shirt, all without removing her mouth from Andre’s.

  “Shelby,” he moaned into her mouth, and then repeated it, her name becoming a prayer against the urgency of the kiss. “Shelby!”

  She busied herself with his belt, fumbling with the buckle, and then finally got his tuxedo trousers loose enough to yank them down his thighs.

  The removal of his pants seemed to break Andre out of his reverie, and he sprang into action, sliding his hands up her thighs, cupping her ass as she straddled him. She ground down against him, the hardness of his cock rubbing deliciously against her delicate silk panties.

  “Not like this,” Andre breathed.

  “What?” Shelby asked, finally freeing her mouth and looking down at him, green eyes dark with want and desire.

  “Come here,” Andre whispered. Then, with one strong pull, he yanked Shelby up until she was supported by her legs wrapped firmly around his waist.

  Stumbling, he carried her through the penthouse, avoiding walls and plush furniture, until they reached the bedroom. Andre tossed Shelby down onto the surface of the enormous white-linen bed and then paused, staring down at her.

  Shelby knew she must look a mess—hair disheveled, make-up smeared, expensive dress rucked up around her thighs—but she didn’t care. Andre loomed over her, dark skin rippling over his firm, toned body. He kicked his tuxedo pants to the side and now he was completely naked except for his tight black boxer briefs, which teased Shelby with the outline of the thick cock contained within them.

  “Is this okay?” Andre asked, gazing down at Shelby’s splayed form with a mixture of desire and reverence.

  “This is beyond okay,” Shelby assured him.

  That seemed to be all the permission that Andre needed. He pushed her dress up around her waist and snatched her delicate, black silk panties off with one deft tug. They made a slight ripping sound as they tore away, but Shelby didn’t care. She’d bought them with Jackson Archer’s credit card, they meant nothing to her.

  Andre collapsed on top of her, the bulk of his toned body heavy and reassuring as he slid his hand between her thighs and slid one finger into the wetness there.

  Shelby didn’t realize how wet she’d gotten, but the slick glide of Andre’s finger in and out of her was a testament to how turned on she was.

  “Andre!” she shouted, not caring if she was overheard. “Andre!”

  Taking his cue from her cries, Andre slipped a second finger inside of her, then a third. Shelby was panting and crying, fucking herself down onto his hand. “Please, Andre, please,” she whined. “I need you now, I need all of you.”

  Andre didn’t wait for her to ask twice. He pulled his boxer briefs down and his cock sprang forth, happily free of the confines of underwear. Shelby sat up for a moment, panting, and propped herself up on her elbows so she could properly admire the naked beauty of Andre’s cock.

  She bit her lip in appreciation, allowing the subconscious gesture to be seen for once. Andre’s abs were like a washboard, a firm plane dipping into the V of his hips, which tapered down to his cock, standing firm and erect, emerging from a patch of thick black curls at its base.

  Andre fell forward again, catching his weight on one propped elbow as he lined the head of his cock between Shelby’s legs, tip pressing urgently at her dripping slit.

  “Andre,” Shelby pleaded, and then he was in her, pressing the full length of his erect cock into her with one quick thrust.

  Shelby pushed her hips up to meet him, urging Andre on as he pushed into her again, and again, and again.

  Time was a thing of the past now. Shelby had no idea how long Andre thrust into her. It could have been hours or it could have been seconds. At some point, he flipped her over, pulling her on top of him until her legs straddled his strong thighs as she rode him, chasing her pleasure at the base of his cock.

  Andre thrust up once more into her and Shelby threw her head back, curls tumbling down over her shoulders. She glanced out one of the picture windows and saw a pink glow burning on the horizon.


  I think the sun is rising over Paris, she thought and then everything faded into the waves of pleasure that coursed over her body as Andre fucked up into her, driving her orgasm through her slight frame as morning dawned in the City of Lights.

  ***

  Andre was gone when Shelby woke up the next morning, but there was a hastily scrawled note left on her bedside table.

  Early morning meeting w/investors. See you tonight?

  Shelby smiled at the note. Oh, Andre would definitely see her tonight.

  She ordered a platter of pastries and coffee up to the room. Shelby was halfway through the carafe of coffee and a second croissant when she finally decided to check her phone.

  Thirty-three missed text messages from Jackson Archer.

  Oh, no.

  Shelby quickly scrolled through them, but nothing seemed to be an emergency or anything life-threatening. It was just a series of drunk texts, each one getting progressively drunker, checking where she was, bragging about Svetlana, and then checking on her whereabouts again.

  All the texts were from last night, except one. And that is the one that had Shelby worried.

  From Jackson Archer: I need to talk to you. 911.

  Shelby froze, a bite of croissant hanging out of her mouth. This wasn’t Jackson’s usual texting style. He was normally so casual, his texts were always full of emojis and abbreviations, but this one was different. Terse, cold, straight to the point. Something was wrong.

  Shelby threw on her dress and glittery shoes, not caring that she’d have to do a walk of shame through Paris in an expensive designer dress, and sprinted out of Andre’s penthouse and into a waiting cab.

  As the driver sped across town to Jackson’s Parisian flat—he owned real estate in almost every major city in the world—Shelby took a moment to text Andre and Jackson.

  To Andre Kennedy: Thanks for last night. I’ll text you soon?

  To Jackson Archer: On my way. Don’t do anything until I get there.

  The taxi screeched to a halt in front of Jackson’s building and Shelby lurched out, throwing a handful of bills—way too much money—to the driver, and dashed inside.

  When she arrived upstairs, Jackson was sitting on his bed, knees pulled up to his chest and staring blankly ahead. Shelby had never seen him like this. She’d seen Jackson drunk, she’d seen him angry, she’d seen him hung-over. But she’d never seen her boss looking so…defeated.

  “Mr. Archer?” Shelby asked, hovering nervously in the doorway. “Are you all right?”

  Jackson didn’t answer, just shook his head.

  This was bad, really bad.

  “Mr. Archer?” Shelby finally entered the room, crossed to Jackson and wrapped her arms around him.

  She didn’t think that he would accept the hug but, much to her surprise, Jackson just relaxed into her and dropped his lovely dark head on to her shoulder.

  “Jackson?” she tried once more and this time he responded.

  “Shelby,” he said, voice muffled by her shoulder. “Someone from the board of directors called me this morning. Apparently, someone found out that we had some Archer Enterprise shares coming available and they bought them before we could reacquire them.”

  “What are you saying, Jackson?”

  “I’m saying that I no longer own the majority of Archer Enterprises.”

  Shelby’s mouth fell open in surprise. She knew that the stock reacquisition was an important deal, but she had no idea that it might mean that Jackson could lose control of the company.

  “Oh, Jackson, no,” she muttered, holding him tight like a child. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

  “We don’t even know what happened, Shelby,” Jackson continued. “I was on this, I was so on this, and then…blindsided.”

  Shelby held Jackson as he explained how things went down. They’d been set to require the shares this morning, but when Archer Enterprises brokers approached the seller, he’d already sold to an anonymous buyer.

  “How did he get the contact info for the seller, Shelby?” Jackson whined. “I mean, I had that info. Don, our broker, he had that info. And you had it.”

  “Me?” Shelby froze.

  “Yeah, you were cc’d on all those messages,” Jackson said. “They’re all probably still in your inbox, unless you deleted them.”

  Shelby’s stomach dropped to the floor. They were in her inbox, all her emails were currently stored in the cloud, so she’d have them available on all her devices: her laptop, her tablet…her phone.

  Her phone.

  Which had spent the night in Andre’s penthouse. Which would have been easily accessible to anyone in the penthouse, whether that was Andre or a different member of his staff.

  There was no other explanation. Andre had used her.

  ***

  Shelby held Jackson, her brain whirling through possible solutions, but none of them made any sense. It had to be the most obvious answer: Andre had invited her to Paris, wooed her and then fucked her, all so he could get his hands on the top-secret business info on her phone.

  That bastard.

  For so long, Shelby had admired Andre, compared Jackson’s behavior and business acumen to Andre’s and she’d been wrong—so, so wrong—to do that. Andre was perfect on the outside, but inside, he was a lying, manipulative scumbag.

  And she was beginning to think she’d horribly underestimated Jackson.

  Her boss—Jackson Archer, cocky playboy and general pain in the ass—was now huddled in her arms, trembling like a small child. She had to tell him the truth, she knew she did, but it was so hard to open her mouth and be honest about her part in this.

  “Mr. Archer,” she began, but Jackson cut her off.

  “Mr. Archer is my father, Shelby,” he said. “My father was an excellent businessman and I…I don’t deserve to share his name. Just call me Jackson. Please.”

  Shelby took a deep breath. This was going to be harder than she had imagined. “Jackson, I need to tell you something.”

  She pulled away from him and Jackson sat up, gazing at her with his big blue eyes. He looked open, childlike. She’d never seen her boss without his snarky, shit-eating grin. This wasn’t the man she knew and disdained.

  “You do?” he whispered. “Shelby, there’s something I need to tell you, too—”

  “Mr. Archer—”

  “Jackson.”

  “All right,” Shelby conceded. “Jackson. Please let me go first.”

  Jackson shook his head. “No, Shelby. I think I know what you’re going to say or, or a variation on the theme, so please. Let me go first.”

  Shelby really, really doubted that he knew what she was going to say, but she’d been taking instructions from the men of the Archer family for so long, following along was an instinct.

  “I’m sorry, Shelby,” Jackson said. “For being such a shit to you these last few years.”

  There were a lot of things that Shelby thought Jackson might say, but this definitely wasn’t one of them.

  “I know what people think of me, what my father thought of me and I, I don’t know. I guess I was just trying to live up to all their negative expectations,” Jackson admitted, running a hand through his thick black waves. “But you…”

  “Me?” Shelby had an idea where this was going and was beyond shocked.

  “Do you remember when my father made you be my date to that gala? When I was dating that actress and he freaked out?”

  Oh, Shelby definitely remembered.

  “Well, you took care of me that night, Shelby. You looked after me, you got mad at me when I said something shitty, you actually made sure I got home safely,” Jackson said. “You were the first person to ever really call me out on my shit, or the first woman anyway. Most of them are content to just let me misbehave, act like an idiot. They don’t care if I’m safe or happy or whatever, they just want me for my money. But you, Shelby, you never gave two shits about Jackson Archer Jr., billionaire bad boy. You cared about Jackson,
a guy who was making some really bad choices and I…I appreciated that.”

  Shelby chose her next words carefully. “Then why did you continue to…behave badly even after your father died? You could have made any choice you wanted, you were in charge of the company. You didn’t have to keep being an idiot, Jackson.”

  Jackson laughed, low and thin, but at least it was a laugh. That was one step toward getting the old Jackson back.

  “I love it when you call me an idiot, Shelby.” Jackson said, reaching one hand out to stroke along the edge of her jawline.

  Something else clicked into place for Shelby.

  “Jackson—” she started.

  “I love you, Shelby,” Jackson finally admitted, and Shelby froze. “I think I’ve loved you ever since I almost threw up on you at that first party, but I didn’t realize it then. I realize it now, though, and I’ll be damned if I let you—”

  This was all too much for Shelby. She didn’t know what she was going to say, but she needed Jackson to stop talking. Immediately. And there was only one surefire way of doing that.

  She shoved Jackson back on the bed threw herself on top of him, stopping his mouth with her kiss. She could feel his lips form a brief ‘O’ of surprise before they relaxed into the kiss, pressing back against her with a sweet tenderness.

  Jackson explored the kiss, losing himself in her mouth as his tongue desperately chased hers. When Shelby was sure his attention was elsewhere, she deftly unbuckled his belt and tugged his trousers down around his thighs.

  “Shelby?” he asked, pulling away for a brief moment to suck in air. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him, stroking the outline of his cock through his thin boxers. “Tell me I can do this?”

  “Do what?” Jackson whispered, eyes big.

  Shelby slid her hand into his boxers and wrapped her clever fingers around his thick shaft. “This,” she murmured, sliding her hand up and down with surprising ease.

  “Y-yes!” he stammered. “Yes, you can definitely do that, Shelby.”

  She pulled her hand free for a moment and offered her palm to Jackson. “Lick,” she commanded and Jackson eagerly lapped at her palm, providing all the lubrication that she’d need to properly take care of his hard, needy dick.