Rock Hard Prince Charming: A Royal Bad Boy Romance

by Rye Hart

  Honestly? I didn't want to. I wanted to stay and see if maybe we'd kiss again, knowing that my chances of that happening weren't very good. Something had happened between us, some connection had been formed and I was curious to see if it actually went anywhere.

  Obviously, I wouldn't have been as courageous or curious had it not been for the wine. But I was just going to roll with it.

  “Okay,” I said and gave him a shy smile. “I'll stick around then. But I think we're going to need more wine.”

  “I'll just bring out the bottle, how about that?”

  “Sounds perfect,” I said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MARCUS

  Dammit, Marcus, what are you thinking? After the accidental kiss, you should have let her head home. There's no logical reason for you to be hanging out with her, to continue drinking, You're just asking for trouble.

  But as I stepped outside with the bottle of wine in hand, I caught sight of her sitting there, the sunset in the background, and I was overwhelmed by how beautiful she was. And it wasn't just because she was twenty-one, blonde, and had an amazing body. It was a lot more than that. After all, I'd had my opportunities with women her age before and they'd never interested me, not like she interested me.

  Her beauty was something different. Sure, she had the pretty blue eyes, the nice figure, the blonde hair, but she had a depth and a substance I was finding to be exceedingly rare of women of any age. Her laugh did things to me that I couldn't explain. And seeing her smile, especially when she was playing with my kids, melted my heart in ways I didn't know was possible.

  She made me feel things I hadn't felt since Gina.

  She's twenty-one, I cautioned myself. You're thirty-five. There was no way the two of us could possibly have all that much in common; surely not enough to sustain a relationship. I was somebody who needed to be challenged, stimulated. I needed somebody who was on par with me intellectually, somebody who could share experiences and actually carry on a sustained conversation.

  As I ran over the checklist in my mind though, I knew that Emma ticked off most every single box I could think of. She was very intelligent. We actually did have much in common and even some shared experiences. We always had something to talk about, and she could talk about some very deep, very heavy topics. And she loved my kids – so, there was that.

  Stop it, Marcus, I chided myself. She has her entire life ahead of her and your best days are probably already behind you. Don't screw things up with your neighbors because you have a boner for their daughter. And most of all, don't screw things up for her.

  Except, it wasn't like that, at all. I knew that to be true, but it didn't mean it still didn't feel wrong. On so many levels, it did, but on others, it felt insanely right.

  “Here you go,” I said, topping off her glass and pouring one for myself.

  “Thank you,” she said, turning those beautiful blue eyes toward me.

  “So back to our conversation from earlier,” she said. “Maybe you should consider changing careers.”

  “Hush,” I said. “Can we not talk about work?”

  She looked at me, a slightly disappointed expression on her face. I appreciated that she wanted to help, to offer her perspective and advice, but sitting there with her, the last thing I wanted to worry about was work. I wanted to focus on her. I wanted to figure out if there was any way on this planet that here could be an “us”.

  “Then what should we talk about?” she asked, her lips parting to take a sip from her glass. “Oh, I know, how about that horrible woman you went out with the other night. Stacey, was it?”

  I shook my head. “You're never going to let me live that down, are you?”

  “Not in a million years,” she said.

  “What can I say? I tend to attract the crazies.”

  “Nah, she wasn't crazy. She just wasn't a good fit for you,” she said. “For some reason, you always go after women that are not right for you, and I don't get it.”

  “What don't you get?”

  “How you keep going after the same type of woman. You could have any woman you wanted.”

  “You're delusional,” I said with a chuckle.

  “No, I'm just not blind,” she said.

  Her cheeks were flushing pink and I noticed she was drinking less. Probably smart, all things considered. I didn't want her to go home drunk or anything like that. It would be a really nice way to piss off her parents, and that was the last thing I wanted.

  We talked for a little while longer, and it started to get late. I heard someone step out onto the patio next door, and then her father's voice called out.

  “Emma? Are you over there?”

  “Yes, dad,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “Don't you think it's about time to come home?”

  “I'm fine, dad,” she said. “I'm an adult now, remember?”

  I saw her father look over fence and scowl, shooting me a dark look, clearly upset about something. He muttered something under his breath before going back inside.

  “I should probably get to bed anyway,” I said, feigning a yawn.

  The last thing I wanted was for Emma and her father to argue. I didn't want him upset at me either. We had a good relationship and I hated the thought of jeopardizing that. After all, he was right. It was getting late and she still lived under his roof.

  She pouted. “Really? I don't want to go home right now,” she said. “My father was being a dick earlier and honestly, I don't want to give him the satisfaction. I'm an adult and it's time they start treating me like one.”

  “Wow,” I said, surprised at her language, especially concerning her father whom she'd always appeared close to.

  “Sorry,” she said quietly. “We got into an argument earlier.”

  “Ahhh, I see,” I said. I had no desire to get in the middle of their family arguments, so I collected the wine glasses and headed inside. Emma followed behind me with our dinner plates. “You know, Emma, you're always going to be his little girl, no matter how big you get. That's just something you're going to have to get used to. And he's always going to be protective of his little girl.”

  “I'm not a little girl,” she said, putting the plates in the sink. She pulled off my sweatshirt, standing there in shorts and a tank top, her perky breasts exposed just enough to tease. “Do I look like a little girl to you?”

  My voice caught in my throat and I felt my eyes widen as I drank her in. She stepped toward me, standing close enough that I could smell her sweet scent. She smelled like sandalwood and tropical flowers, the perfect perfume for a girl like her. Standing there, breathing her in, I found her utterly intoxicating. Her scent was heady and I was mesmerized. She stared up into my eyes, almost asking me to kiss her and awaiting my response.

  Though I was nearly dizzy with the thought of feeling her lips pressed to mine, her body and those firm, perky breasts pressed tightly to my body, I managed to hold onto my senses, though just barely. I backed up, bumping into the sink as I did so.

  “Uhh, well no,” I said. “Not at all. That's not what I meant. But, what I'm saying is – ”

  “I know what you're saying,” she said. “And I'm tired of it. I'm tired of no one taking me seriously. I've always been the good girl. I've always done the right thing. I've always been the virgin waiting for the right man to come along, while my sister is out there having fun, sleeping with boys, and doing what she wants. Is it wrong that I'm jealous of her for that? Because I'm tired of being good only to have my father treat me like a juvenile delinquent he has to keep an eye on.”

  “Maybe this is something you should talk to him about.”

  She moved closer to me again, stood on her tip-toes, and licked her lips.

  I felt her breath against my skin. It had been so long since I'd been this close to a woman, and my body was reacting accordingly, and embarrassingly. My pulse quickened, my heart thumped, and certain lower parts of my anatomy began to wake up.

  “Or maybe I should
just do what I want.” she purred.

  “What do you want?” I asked her quietly.

  “Do you really want to know?” She raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Because I'm afraid once I tell you, I won't be able to take it back and if you don't feel the same way – ”

  Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was how long it had been since I'd been with a woman. I didn't know what it was, but I pulled Emma toward me and kissed her. This time, it was no accident. She kissed me back, fully and completely, her tongue pushing past my lips. I ran my hands through her hair and relished the feel of her firm little body pressed tightly to mine. The taste of her mouth lingered in mine and the scent of her filled my nose. It was a heady mix and one that made my body feel like it had caught fire.

  I lifted her up, turning and setting her down on the counter behind us, still kissing her. Though tempted to let my hands explore her body, I kept them on her hips afraid to get too handsy. In case she changed her mind, I didn't want her to feel uncomfortable.

  Then she surprised me when she took my hands in hers and placed them on her breasts, breaking our kiss and staring into my eyes as she did so.

  “I want you to touch me. I want you to feel my body,” she said, her voice breathy. “I want you to kiss me. And most of all, I want you to fuck me.”

  My head was spinning. Yes, I wanted her. God, I wanted her with every fiber of my being. To be inside of her, to feel her naked, firm, young body against mine would be absolute heaven. But I had to think, to keep my head. I couldn't be stupid about this. She was, after all, my next-door-neighbor's daughter and my babysitter. Was I taking advantage of her? If her father found out, would he see it any other way?

  Before I could answer my own questions, however, Emma pulled me closer to her, wrapping those strong legs around my waist and kissed me again. There was fire and purpose in her kiss. It was powerful and overwhelming.

  She dotted soft kisses down my neck, whispering, “Yes, yes, yes,” over and over again. “Yes, Marcus. Please touch me.”

  My hands were still on her breasts, so I kneaded them gently. She moaned, her head falling forward on my chest, as I teased her nipple through the thin fabric of her tank top. She shuddered against me, and when she lifted her head, I saw the look of pleasure in her eyes. But even more than that, I saw the look of absolute need in them.

  She wanted me.

  I wanted her. God, I wanted her.

  “You said you were a virgin?” I said, my voice cracking.

  She nodded. “Yes, I am,” she said. “I was saving myself for someone special, and I want you to be my first.”

  Oh God. The idea of how tight she'd be made my erection ache against my jeans. The thought of being her first filled me with indescribable feelings. But could I bear the responsibility of being her first? Did she really want her first time to be with me, in my kitchen, while we were both tipsy? Was that really the way she'd envisioned her first time?

  Back in my college days, I wouldn't have hesitated to rip her clothes off in a heartbeat. I would have had her on that counter over and over again and not thought twice about it. But the fact of the matter was, I wasn't back in my college days. Not even close. I was a grown man, an older man. And the last thing I wanted to do was ruin what should be a special memory for a special girl.

  Being a responsible adult sucked sometimes.

  “Emma, listen,” I said. “I don't want your first time to be like this. You've waited for a reason, it should be special. And I don't think what we're about to do here is exactly special.”

  Her eyes were wide and filled with something that looked like hurt as she stared at me. “But I want this, Marcus,” she said. “God, I've wanted this for so long. Please, just be with me. Am I not pretty enough for you? Is that it?”

  “No, trust me, that's not it at all. Not even close, Emma,” I said, stroking her cheek. Her skin was so soft and so warm. “And trust me, I want to do this. I want nothing more than to make love to you, but-”

  “But what?” she said, her tone getting defensive. “You're afraid I can't make my own decisions, is that? Or that I'm a stupid little girl who's acting on an impulse that I'm going to regret?”

  “No, that's not it at all,” I said. “I just don't want your first time to be in my kitchen. Not like this. It should be in a bed, it should be romantic, not a quickie on the countertop after having too much wine. ”

  “But I want my first time to be with you,” she said. “The details don't matter. It's you who would make it special for me.”

  I took a deep breath. All this time, I'd been looking for a woman like Emma, someone who was sweet, someone who was good with my kids. Someone I enjoyed spending time with. I'd been looking for somebody like Emma, instead of looking at Emma herself.

  And I didn't want to screw this up.

  I kissed her gently, holding her face in my hands and gave her a soft smile. She looked back at me with expectant and yet, disappointed eyes. It was as if she knew I was going to put an end to this and she was trying to come up with a reason for me not to.

  “Then let's do this right,” I said. “Let's not rush things. Let me make it perfect for you. If you still want to do this, let's get together next weekend. The kids can go to their grandparents again and we can make it perfect for you. You deserve that.”

  Her eyes filled with tears and I could see that she was disappointed but still hopeful. She looked at me, giving me a weak smile, and nodded.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being so amazing to me.”

  She kissed me as I helped her hop down from the countertop. My body ached with need, but I knew I'd done the right thing. If she still wanted to move forward, after a week of thinking about it, we'd see what happened. It allowed us both to step back, take a breath, and really think about doing what we were considering doing. It was a big decision for her, and for myself as well.

  I had a massive case of blue balls, but in my heart, I knew I'd done the right thing. As much as it pained me to admit.

  CHAPTER TEN

  EMMA

  I laid in bed that night, trying to sleep, but all I kept thinking about was how close I came to having sex with Marcus Pratt. We came so close I felt his cock pressing up against me. It was so large and hard, the memory of it almost brought me to orgasm on its own. He had wanted me, and his body had told me that.

  I was giddy with excitement, and felt a fire burning inside of me as I thought ahead to next weekend. The fact that we might actually make this happen, that I might finally get to sleep with the man of my dreams, had me excited beyond belief. My heart was beating hard in my chest and adrenaline still coursed through my body as I thought about it. As I imagined what it might be like to finally fuck him, I began to touch myself. Circling my clit with my fingertips, I imagined his tongue against me, kissing and licking my most intimate parts. I reached for my dildo, which was tucked away in my bedside table, something my parents would be appalled to know I had, and slipped it against me.

  As I imagined Marcus on top of me, his hard body pressing down on mine and feeling him inside of me, I slid the dildo in my pussy slowly, gasping with both pain and pleasure as it entered me.

  I'd need to get used to this, I thought. If I wanted to be with a man like Marcus, I'd need to get used to having a large cock inside of me. Slowly, I moved it in and out of me with one hand, quivering with pleasure as I circled my clit with the other.

  “Yes, Marcus,” I muttered, thrashing my head side-to-side. “Yes, yes, Oh God, yes!”

  My orgasm came on quickly, sending me into spasms of pleasure. The thought of how close we'd come to sealing the deal sent ripples of intense sensation through me. And as I came, I imagined wrapping my legs around his waist and coming hard, calling out his name as an electrical energy moved through every muscle of my body.

  One week. One week until the real thing.

  It was going to be one long week, that was for sure. Marcus better not change his mind, or else I was going to
be one sad girl. I was looking forward to this more than anything I'd ever looked forward to in my entire life.

  My body starting to come down off the orgasm high. I slipped the dildo out of me and cleaned it off, a smile on my face.

  I didn't care what my father thought of Marcus, I thought he was perfect. His past was his past, but that didn't define who he was today. He was a good man, an honorable man.

  And we were finally going to be together.

  ooo000ooo

  “Emma, we need to talk,” my dad said as I walked upstairs the next morning.

  He was sitting in the kitchen at the table with his cup of coffee, pretending to look at the newspaper. It seemed pretty clear that he'd been waiting for me.

  “Right now?” I said, opening the fridge to find something for breakfast. “I just woke up.”

  “Yeah, right now,” he said, putting the newspaper down.

  I closed the fridge and grabbed a banana off the counter instead. Sitting down across from my father, I waited for the lecture to start. I steeled myself for it, reminding myself to not roll my eyes or sigh dramatically – to just listen and endure.

  Instead of a lecture though, I got a question I wasn't expecting.

  “Are you sleeping with Marcus Pratt?”

  I nearly dropped my banana and stared at him open-mouthed. “What? Why would you think that?”

  Had he spied on us last night? I thought back, trying to remember if the curtains in the kitchen had been open or closed and couldn't recall. Usually, they were kept closed as Marcus was someone who appreciated his privacy.

  “Because you two were together late last night,” my dad said after a few moments of staring me down. “And because of how defensive you were when we spoke yesterday.”

  “Doesn't mean I'm sleeping with him,” I said.

  In my head, I added “yet” to the end of that sentence, but there was no way in hell I was going to say that to him. I tried my best to not look guilty about lying to my father and wasn't quite sure that I'd pulled it off. I'd never gotten anywhere near as good or comfortable as Riley when it came to lying. I always felt bad and most of the time, it showed in my face.