His Princess (A Royal Romance)

by Abigail Graham

  Must be nice, feeling safe. Too bad your employees don’t get a taste of that.

  Rolling onto the floor, I slide under his Benz. I figure if this guy is going out for any clandestine trysts he’s going to take the flashy car; his wife’s grocery getter isn’t going to pull the cooze like a brand new SLK.

  He bought the AMG package. God, this car is wasted on this asshole.

  The GPS tracker is pretty unobtrusive. I attach it to the frame with some zip ties; drilling it into place would be too loud and adhesive would lose integrity too quickly. I flick it on and wait for the green light. It has a lithium battery, should last about a month, plenty of time.

  I sigh. What the hell am I doing this for? I should be watching cartoons and crawling into a bottle.

  I slip out from the car and lock the door before pulling it shut. Quarter after eight, plenty of time to pick up Rose.

  Back to the car by eight thirty. I pull into the parking lot at the college at nine on the dot, and wait.

  Wait.

  Wait some more.

  It’s 9:20 when students finally start piling out of the doors, heading for their cars. Rose trudges out wearily, her messenger bag over her shoulder, and scrubs her hand through her hair. Even in the harsh street lamps, she’s pretty. The sharp contrasts give her a hazy, femme-fatale look.

  I wheel the car around to the sidewalk and wince when I realize I’m drawing a lot of attention. Rose looks around with some trepidation on her face and slips into the car, sighing.

  “Sorry. This one likes to give us our money’s worth.”

  She glances at the dash clock.

  “I’m glad you’re here. I’d have missed the bus. The other profs usually let out a little early but Hevermeyer insists we take a dinner break, blathers on up until nine on the dot and makes us meet with our groups for… I’m boring you,” she sighs.

  “No, no, go on.”

  She leans back in the seat. “I don’t know how I’m going to do all this, between work and the kids and school. I’m losing my mind. I have to be up before five tomorrow.”

  “You don’t have to take the bus again. I can drive you.”

  Her voice is tight, like she’s choking up. “Thank you. You’ve been really kind to me today.”

  “I did spray you with a hose.”

  She glances over at me with a hint of a smile pulling at her lips. “Did you do that on purpose?”

  “I’m an asshole,” I sigh, “but I’m not that big of an asshole. If you’re going to get wet for me I’d rather it be voluntary.”

  She flinches and turns red.

  “Did you go to Catholic school?”

  “No, why?” she says, blinking.

  “Nothing.” I smirk. “Straight home, or do you want to grab something to eat?”

  “I am hungry, but I should get something at home. I can’t really—”

  “On me,” I add quickly.

  “Oh. I… If you want.”

  “There a McDonalds around here?”

  “Of course.”

  “I need directions.”

  She nods. I drive, turning where she says, until I spot the Golden Arches and pull into the drive-through.

  “What do you want, like a cheeseburger or something?”

  “Um,” she says, “two Double Quarter Pounders with cheese. Ask for them plain.”

  I blink at her a few times.

  “I’m hungry,” she says sheepishly.

  “Gotcha.”

  I roll up to the speaker. “Gimme two twenty piece Chicken McNuggetses, two Double Quarter Pounders plain, two large Cokes, and a large chocolate shake.”

  “Fries,” Rose chirps.

  “Large fries.”

  After we pull into a parking spot I pass her the bag and the milkshake.

  “For me?”

  “Yeah, we can split it if you want.”

  She eyes me warily. “Oh. Okay. I don’t want to pig up your car here…”

  “Don’t worry about that, Rose. The gods forged the 1968 Impala for eating fast food with a pretty girl.”

  She flinches, color appearing on her pale cheeks, and turns to nibble at her first burger.

  “Just eat it before it gets cold,” I sigh between stuffing nuggets in my mouth hole.

  She gives me a guilty look then chows down.

  It’s like when they feed the cow to the velociraptors in that movie. I’m impressed. After she finishes the first one she burps into her hand, shoots me an apologetic look, and eats the second one more slowly.

  Leaning back in the seat, she says, “God, it’s been forever since I felt full.”

  “I love to fill you up. Pass the shake.”

  She giggles but stifles it as she passes it over and more slowly savors her burger.

  “I can’t believe you don’t take the kids to McDonalds,” I say.

  She swallows a bite and sighs. “I do, for a treat. I try to give them everything I can. I’ll eat ramen noodles if it means they get real food. Sometimes I can’t bring them here because they’ll insist Mommy eats too, I can’t just watch them. I can’t always spare the extra few bucks.”

  “Let’s get them Happy Meals. Before I take you home.”

  “Karen doesn’t get Happy Meals anymore.”

  “She’ll get one if I tell her to get one,” I growl.

  Rose laughs. Really laughs, coughs a little on a bite of burger, and keeps laughing.

  “You’re a trip,” she says.

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  As she finishes the second Quarter Pounder and scrunches up the wrapper, she sighs. “I’m all bloated now.”

  “Good, better bloated than starving.”

  She tucks the trash into the bag and rolls it up.

  “You know,” I say, “this is a bench seat.”

  She blinks.

  Then I sigh, lean over, hook my arm around her waist, and pull her across the seat.

  She gaps in shock and her hands fall on my chest and stomach. Pressed up against me, she breathes hard. I can almost see her pulse trembling in her throat like a scared bird. I release my arm, resting it on the seat. She can pull away if she wants.

  She looks a little scared.

  “It’s not like that,” I murmur. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “I haven’t forgiven you for the hose thing.”

  “I haven’t forgiven you for unleashing your inner bitch on me five minutes after I got home.”

  “I was trying to help you, you jerk,” she says, and plants her lips on mine.

  Her kiss is almost clumsy, too eager. She tastes like cheeseburger and milkshake, and I pull her onto my lap as she kisses me hungrily, surprisingly so.

  My surprise fades into a hunger of my own. Her legs spread over my body, straddling me, and she presses against my chest, her soft breasts pillowed against me. I run my hands up her side and she shudders, takes a break, and kisses me again, harder, with tongue this time. I like the feel of the sides of her tits, as they are squeezed against my chest.

  She rolls her hips and groans, and her eyes flutter open. I’m hard as a rock, and she can feel it, and smiles. Her pink tongue wets her lips and she kisses me again.

  I tug her blouse loose from her waist and she grabs my wrist, holding my hand in place. A full body shudder rolls through her and she lets go, and I more slowly tug the tucked fabric loose and slip my hand up her back.

  “Cold.” She winces and kisses me again.

  My hand grows warm in a hurry. I slip her skirt up, spread my fingers, and grab a big handful of her firm, big ass. She gasps, and then I squeeze again and give her a light smack on the butt. She jerks in my lap and squeaks, and laughs a little before I attack her with a kiss and swallow her giggles.

  I start tugging her skirt farther up, bunching it around her stomach, just enough to get my hand in her underwear. They feel pretty skimpy, and I glance down and realize she’s wearing a black silk thong.

  You naughty girl.

  My finger
slips into her tight, wet body, and she gasps, shuddering all over, and digs her nails into my chest through my shirt.

  She’s too tight for two fingers. For now.

  Rose writhes on my lap, riding my hand as I slowly slide my finger back and forth. My hand is quickly soaked and she paws me harder as my slow strokes inside her hit just the right spot, and her legs jerk, a little groan forced out from between her teeth.

  I feel a sharp nip on my throat.

  She bit me.

  Rose looks almost apologetic, and mumbles, “Sorry.”

  “This is what you get for that,” I say, and a second finger sinks inside her.

  “Oh shit,” she blurts into my throat, “just like that.”

  I hold her against me and feel her writhe as her quivering pussy grips my fingers.

  She grabs fistfuls of my shirt and buries her face in my shoulder. She’s so hot, her skin like flame, her pussy a furnace. My hand is covered in her slick juices, and I feel like she’s going to break my wrist when she jerks and her legs snap together around my hand.

  I turn her around so I can grind my cock in her ass while I finger-bang her. She gives me a wicked look over her shoulder, shifts, and grinds her butt against me while I slip my other hand up and cup her breast, squeeze as she pitches forward, curling up around my hand, her legs shaking, one shoe dangling off her quivering foot.

  Her whole body is coiled up like a spring that’s about to snap, and then she does, bucking back against me, crying out before she tries to stifle herself, loses it, cries out again. Her pussy is so tight, I just want to rip her clothes off and shove myself inside her right now until I come over and over, grab her hips, and make her take me to the root and empty my balls in her.

  Panting, she collapses against me.

  I pull my hand loose and press my fingers to her lips. Without hesitation she sucks, and when I feel her hot lips wrapped around my finger and the suction on the tip, I can only think of how I want her to swallow my cock and look up at me with those big blue eyes and adore me while I blow a load down her throat. She licks my whole hand clean, turns around in my lap, and kisses me hard, her lips salty.

  Her butt hits the horn and it beeps, and she jerks back, shocked.

  “I-I-I-I need to get home,” she stammers, shaking.

  She slips off me, all the way across the bench. Sweaty and shaking, she stuffs her blouse back down and looks at me, confused and flushed.

  “Are you okay?”

  She adjusts herself and sits in the seat. “I’m sorry I, uh, bit you.”

  “Anytime.”

  I roll back through the drive-through and order three Happy Meals. The big kid will probably want two of them. I request girl toys.

  Rose takes the bags, her fingers brushing mine.

  “Was this a date?” she says.

  “I don’t know. Was it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  When we pull into the driveway, the kids are at the window, watching us. Being a gentleman, I get out and walk her up to the door.

  “Hurry inside.”

  I manage to resist the urge to smack her ass.

  “Uh, see you in the morning,” she says weakly. “Ride?”

  “Yeah, you can ride me anytime you want.”

  “I mean I want to ride you to work. A ride to work. You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh.

  I plant a kiss right on her lips.

  She blinks a few times before she opens the door and walks inside. The kids are still at the window, staring at me like I just stepped out of a flying saucer that landed on their lawn.

  It’s a little silly to drive back to my house. I should have just parked there and walked her over. I’ll do that next time.

  Goddamn it, Quent. There can’t be a next time. What the fuck are you doing? This is crazy. You’re going to get her killed.

  I roll into my garage. The garage door rumbles down and I head over to the computer.

  Let’s see what Burt’s been up to. I’m feeling frisky.

  6

  Rose

  To my surprise, Karen claims two of the Happy Meals for herself, or at least the food, devouring the cheeseburgers. Kelly ends up with the toys, and that works for me. They eat in the kitchen and then I bundle them off to bed as quickly as I can, and stumble into the bathroom then tumble into the shower.

  I’m still shaking. I can’t remember the last time I came that hard… And I bit him. I feel weird just thinking about it, floaty. I try to wash it away with hot water, but I can still feel his fingers inside my eager body. My skin is tight and hot all over, like I’m glowing.

  I’m full, too. I feel like I swallowed a cow.

  This shower is turning into a bath. I nudge the lever over and lower myself into the steaming water as it rises up around my legs, lean back, and let it fill the tub, the heat drawing into my muscles as the water swirls up around my shoulders. I nudge the faucet closed with my food and lie in it, breathing in the steam.

  That was…interesting.

  I didn’t think I could feel that way about a man anymore. Things were chilly with Russel toward the end, even before I learned about the affair. That time when I was infatuated with him feels like a story someone told me, a happy tale about another person. Not part of my life.

  I knew from the start that Quentin was attracted to me. I mean, it was obvious from the way he was looking at me after I got soaked by the damned hose. I’m not stupid. It was only tonight that I started to like it. It’s nice to feel admired, and he doesn’t send any mixed signals. I can wiggle my butt a little and still feel his cock grinding against me.

  When the water goes cold I rise, wincing. I’m too young to be stiff all the time. I’m only thirty-four. I step out and look at myself. My stomach isn’t as flat as it was when I was younger, and I’m a little heavier, but it doesn’t matter. I feel sexy, and twist my hips and blow a kiss at the mirror.

  God, Rose. Stop acting like a teenager with a crush.

  Once I’ve dried off I slip into my bedroom and into bed, pulling the covers up to my neck. God, I’m tired. I have another class tomorrow and I’m really, really looking forward to seeing Burt tomorrow after that little show Quentin put on.

  At least sleep comes fast.

  Maybe because I’ve relieved a little, ah, tension.

  The alarm clock follows it, bleating at me in an acidic monotone, beep beep beep. I slam the thing with my fist and swing out of bed, lean on the dresser, and sigh. I could sleep for fifty years.

  First things first, the kids. Karen practically claws my eyes out when I wake her up, and Kelly stumbles around in a stupor. They were both up too late last night waiting for me to get home. I should put my foot down and insist they get in bed at a proper hour, but I can’t make them go to sleep without seeing me.

  I hate this. I’d get a babysitter, but I can’t afford it. If Russel finds out I’m leaving them alone like this, he might use it against me in court and sue for custody. I can’t stop, though. I have to get a better job. I can barely feed them. Karen will be old enough to drive soon, and how will she get a car if I can’t pay for it? They don’t pay kids enough at part-time jobs to afford a car anymore, and even if they did, she’d need the car first. I’m not putting her on the bus every day.

  Then there’s college, and four years behind Karen, Kelly will be ready to drive. They’ll want things I can’t provide. Neither one of them wants to live with their father, and I bless them for that, but they might have to. The thought of giving them up sickens me.

  “Mom?” Karen says between bites of eggs. “You okay?”

  “Just tired, honey. I have a lot on my mind. Try to actually stay in school all day this time, huh?”

  “Yeah, I will.” She nods.

  After I walk them to the bus stop and get ready, I find Quentin leaning on his car, in his driveway. He beckons me over and I smile as I stride across the grass. He’s looking me over and even in these stupid scrubs, it feels good.
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  “Hey, need a ride?”

  “Yeah.”

  I drop myself into the car and fight off fatigue. I want to nod off even before he starts it up. The sound of the engine startles me awake, and Quentin backs out.

  Mrs. Campbell is eyeing us again, from her front porch as she waters her little garden. Her head swivels to watch us roll all the way down the street.

  “What’s her problem?”

  I shrug. “Your car is too old for her.”

  He snorts. “Whatever happened to taste?”

  I sigh.

  I’m dreading work like my daughters must be dreading school. I don’t want to get out of the car when Quentin stops to let me off.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I sigh. “Should I take the bus home, or…”

  “I’ll pick you up.”

  “I have another class tonight.”

  “That’s fine.”

  I start to step out of the car then slink back and look at him.

  “Um, could you do me a favor?”

  He leans back in the seat and smirks at me. I swallow, trying to wet my throat.

  “Would you mind staying with the girls? Maybe you can get them to go to bed while I’m gone. They stay up too late when I’m in class.”

  “I could, I guess.” He shrugs.

  “I don’t want to impose…”

  “I can work around it. It’s only a few hours. What the hell.”

  I beam at him. “Thank you so much.”

  “It’s nothing. See you after work.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Resigned to my fate, I trudge inside. Laura is already behind the desk, in my spot.

  “You’re on insurance today,” she says, giving me a funny look.

  Great. I have to process the insurance claims. I’d rather deal with angry patients with broken teeth and screaming children. Sartre said hell is other people. He was almost right. Hell is other people who work for the insurance company.

  I settle into the desk to find that Laura has left me a pile of claims to settle. It’s mostly tedious computer work, until the computer inevitably pops up with an exception.

  The first claim I enter pops up with an exception. I can’t do anything else until it’s fixed. So I spend the next hour listening to crackly, barely intelligible hold music that sounds like the distant wailing of the damned.