"He's not doing anything wrong—"
"He hired an airplane! Where did he get an airplane?"
"I don't know," I whimper. "Mother, please—"
"I don't want you tarnishing yourself with this boy or any boy, is that understood? You're going to finish your studies and return home to marry a man of your station to be your prince consort and father your heirs, and that is final."
"Mother—"
"If I learn you're even humoring this peasant, I'll have you brought home immediately. Is that understood?"
"Yes," I say sullenly.
"I didn't hear you."
"Yes," I repeat louder, sitting up.
"Good."
The call ends. I calmly stand up, walk downstairs, and retrieve a potato peeler from the drawer in the kitchen.
"Princess?" Mavra says.
"Be quiet," I snap at her.
I walk into the living room, where Bjorn is watching Storage Wars on television and stand in front of him. I hold up the potato peeler.
"If you ever call my mother behind my back again, I'll skin you alive with this."
I drop it in his lap and stomp back upstairs.
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
I will not—
My phone again. Ringing.
Jason.
I answer. "What do you want?"
"You."
I let out a strangled cry of frustration. "Just leave me alone!"
"I can't."
"Jason, I can't date you, do you understand? I can't study with you again. I can't be seen with you again. Mother will have me taken home if I do."
"You don't have to go if you don't want to."
"You don't understand," I almost scream at him. "I want to but—"
"If you want to, then come on. I'm out in front of the library. Just come."
"I can't, Jason. The picture people will see me and I'll be on a plane home by morning. You have to understand. It has to be this way."
"That's not what you want?"
"No."
"What do you want?"
I bite my lip. A tear burns hot on my cheek.
"I want to be like everyone else. My entire life it's been 'Ana do this, Ana do that, Ana go here, Ana study that, Ana talk to this person, Ana don't talk, Ana wear this, Ana wear that.' I'm sick of it. I've never made a single decision for myself since I've been born, and I can't, don't you understand? I'm royalty. I live for my people."
"Who lives for you?"
I blink a few times, and my eyes blur. "Nobody. I can't, Jason. Go home. I'm not coming. One more time and they'll take me away and I'll never see you again."
He's quiet for a moment.
"Nobody locks a princess in a tower when I'm around, sweetheart."
I drop onto the bed and whimper, holding the phone to my ear.
"I'm going to call you in an hour and read the book to you some more. Nobody has to know."
"I'd like that, but, Jason—"
"An hour," he says.
I trudge downstairs. I look at Mavra.
"Dinner. Please."
"What—?"
"I don't care, choose something."
She brings it fifteen minutes later: broiled fish, rice, and stewed plums. Stewed plums are my favorite, but I barely eat, set the plate on the floor outside my room, and lock my door. She can take it. I don't want it.
Curled up on my side, I wait.
Fifty-nine minutes and forty-seven seconds after he hung up, my phone rings. I set it to my ear and listen.
"Ana?"
"Yes."
He starts reading. Slowly, clearly. I listen, my eyes drifting closed as his voice carries me away, into the story. The longer I listen, the more engrossed I become. My breathing becomes even again, and the constant battle to keep my eyes dry begins to wind down. I sniffle and snuff a while.
He doesn't stop. I end up plugging my phone in to keep it charged while I listen.
By four in the morning he says, very softly, "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
I say nothing for a time.
Finally he says, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair."
"What?"
I can almost hear him smiling.
Rapunzel? I remember that story. The princess locked in the tower with the long hair. She would let it down, and her prince would….
Rising, I pull up the blinds and lift open the window. I jump back as Jason swings his legs in and stands up in my bedroom.
My mouth goes dry. He looks like a god, even in a hooded sweatshirt and shorts. His presence fills the room, and opens something up in me that wants to be filled. I should scream at him, throw him out, call for my guards, but I can't. I can't bear the thought of them hurting him. More than that, I don't want him to go.
I step back, fighting the pull toward him. Every breath fans the flames within, and I want to throw myself on him and let him take me.
"You can't be here," I tell him urgently. "If someone sees you—"
"They won't," he says, closing the distance between us. I want to pull away, but I am drawn toward him instead, my feet carrying me into him, as though I am pulled into his orbit. He rests his hands on my sides just above my hips, as though he means to pull me into a dance, and bends to kiss me.
His lips are warm and soft, and his breath tickles under my nose. His hand gently strokes up my back and cradles my head as he tugs at my braid, loosening my hair. It comes undone all at once, and he runs his fingers through it, finally slipping his arm around the back of my neck.
I pull away from his kiss, but even if I were strong enough to escape his embrace, I couldn't pull my own hands from his back.
"What do you want from me?" I ask him.
"I want to watch you eat your first real cheeseburger. I want to take you to a movie. I want to get in a snowball fight. I want to roll in the grass. I want to run. I want to wake up next to you, make you breakfast, hold you while you sleep, wash your back in the bath. I want to be there when you're sad and be with you when you're happy. I want to save you."
I rest my head on his chest. "You can't. You have to stop this. You'll only hurt yourself."
"Why can't I?"
"I'm a princess. My life is not my own."
"I know you want me. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't."
"I think I do. I know it does not matter. I told you—"
He slips his finger under my chin and gently pushes my face up. His kiss is soft at first, then grows hungrier with every movement of his lips against mine. Pure instinct takes over and I hold him tighter, pressing into him.
I don't know if he pulls me or I push him. Both. We end up on the bed, and I am on top of him. I move my legs up so my knees press into his ribs, curled up around him. He holds me tightly, running his fingers through his hair, his fingertips dancing across my scalp.
"Should I take off my clothes?" I whisper.
"No," he says, "Not yet. Lie with me."
Shifting around on the bed to lie the proper way, he spreads out, and I climb on top of him, laying on his chest. My arms slip around his neck, and he pulls me into a kiss, his hands roaming over my back.
When I cradle his head in my hands, I feel his lips twist in a smile under mine, and the kiss deepens. It's like swallowing a spoonful of warm syrup. The heat floods my chest while a deep, thrumming warmth spreads from deeper down and fills my body, until I feel like I may begin to sweat.
He rolls onto his side, pushing me with him, and holds me tight. My hands slip up under his shirt. His skin is soft, but he's hard as stone, his muscles bunching under my hands as he moves. I sweep my hands all over his muscular chest and sides, and up his back, absorbing the heat of his body.
I begin to kiss his chin, his neck. His body tenses when he feels my teeth on his skin and I grin. I give him a little bite on his shoulder, tugging the collar of his t-shirt to the side.
I want it off.
I tu
g it up and push and pull at it, until he lifts his arm and I drag it back, pinning his arms up over his head. When his mouth pops down from the collar as I pull it over his head, I hold it there, blindfolding him and kissing him. He wriggles loose and discards it, and I lie on his bare chest.
My heart hammers against my ribs, so hard he must be able to feel it. I can feel his pulse against me, his stomach expanding and contracting as I rise and fall on top of him with his breath.
I just want to touch him. I rub my hands and my cheek all over his warm skin, giggle when he jerks as I touch his sides. He's ticklish!
As I slide down his body, I feel his cock against my stomach. He's gotten rock hard in his jeans, throbbing against me.
Before I realize what I'm doing, I'm beginning to rub him through his pants, stroking his length. He groans a little.
"Can I see it?" I blurt out.
His head lifts up, and his expression makes me turn beet-red. "What did you say?"
"May I—?"
"Hell yes. Go ahead."
I pop the button and tug down his zipper. When I spread his fly apart, his cock strains against his underwear, and jerks free when I tug them down. It stands up straight, throbbing with his pulse, long and thick and round.
I swallow, hard. "I've never seen a man's penis before," I whisper.
"I guess I should be honored. What do you think?"
I look at him, and he starts to snicker at the expression on my face.
"It's, um…."
Too damn big.
"Very nice."
I can't stop staring at it. Or touching it, for that matter. It's so hot to the touch and so thick, how is this ever supposed to fit inside me?
Wait, did I just think that?
Jason shifts, bending a little to push his jeans and shorts down with his hands, and I can see it all. He tenses when I touch his balls, gently cupping my hand around them.
"I should have made a deal."
"What deal?" I ask.
"I show you mine, you show me yours."
I sit up, leaving his throbbing cock bobbing against his stomach. "What do you want to see?"
"Everything."
I brush my hair back over my shoulders, cross my arms, and pull my sweatshirt over my head. Jason's eyes rake my body, his gaze hungry. Even in a t-shirt and jeans, I feel naked already, but it's a good, warm feeling, like sunlight on my skin.
Trembling, I pull my t-shirt off, leaving me in only a bra. I fall back and end up in the crook of his arm as I wriggle out of my jeans, and kick them to the foot of the bed.
I reach for my bra strap, and he catches my wrist. My eyes go wide.
"Let me. Lie on your stomach."
I do as he asks, trembling as he stands up. He takes his jeans off completely and turns around, his cock heavy with arousal. I can't take my eyes off it.
Jason undoes my bra and spreads the straps, then runs his hands together down my back, hooks his fingers in the waistband of my underwear, and pulls them down.
They slide down my legs, and I feel the air on my bare ass, on my sex. Jason tugs them away from my feet, and his hands run back up my legs as he throws one leg over me. My hips rise from the bed.
Oh God do it, do it now, do it, please.
The rough skin of his palms glides over mine, back up to my shoulders. Shifting my hair to the side, he presses his lips to the back of my neck, then lower, between my shoulder blades, all the way down my back. With every kiss the heat inside me grows. I start to turn over, and he stops me, pressing my shoulders down.
"Not yet."
His fingers knead my muscles, easing the tension out of my shoulders. I look back at him, and he's still hard as a rock, his eyes hungry. My God, he's so perfect, like a man carved from marble, pure muscle and raw, masculine power, almost frightening.
A little tug on my arm and I roll onto my back.
"Holy fuck," he says, looking down at me.
Jason almost falls on top of me, kissing me, pressing his chest and stomach against mine. His cock presses hard into the bare skin of my lower belly. All he would have to do is roll his hips and draw back, and then thrust inside me.
He kisses me hard, and then his mouth moves to my throat, my shoulders, planting soft kisses on my skin, a little harder. I shudder and shiver and grasp him with my arms, trying to goad him to just fuck me already.
Jason's mouth is warm and gentle on my nipple. I respond immediately, arching under him, groaning softly. Every touch is an introduction, a promise. I've never been so excited, so nervous. Does he like my body? Does he like me?
Not a word escapes his lips, but his mouth shows he does. Every hint of his hand and mouth is worship, reverently teasing me until my nipples are diamond-hard between his lips, until they ache, until I throb between my legs. I dig my fingers into his shoulders and pull, trying to tell him to take me now, but he goes lower, his mouth on my stomach, his body pushing my legs apart. I spread them on the bed and grip the shits in my trembling fists.
He's going to….
He does. He puts his mouth on my mound, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. I sit up but sink back down as he works his lips and tongue. It feels incredible, and I shudder in pleasure and excitement and even embarrassment. His hands slide under me and squeeze my ass as he works his mouth on me.
I start to pant and shiver, choking down the noises I want to make as I knot my fingers in his hair and rake his scalp with my nails. He pulls me down the bed a little, lifting my rump with his hands, and I lock my legs around him.
I want him. I want him inside me, on top of me, kissing me, squeezing me, stroking me, petting me, pinching me, licking me, holding me. I want him so bad it hurts, so bad I thrust my hips into his face, stroking myself against his tongue as much as he licks me.
With a shudder and an exhaled, choked cry of pleasure, I twist on the bed, but he has ahold of me as much as I have of him, gripping my sides just above my hips. The pressure and soft heat of his tongue rubbing on my most sensitive spot drives me into a frenzy. I hug myself and clench my teeth, whimpering as the heat spreads through my body. Building, building, building.
I thrash on the bed, and it's all I have not to cry out as it explodes through my body. My own pathetic explorations with my fingers are nothing compared to this. I can barely think, barely remember my own name.
The tension tightens in my limbs until I feel so good it hurts, overwhelmed by the crashing sensations ramming through my body. When I finally relax, Jason sits up from between my quivering legs and lies on top of me.
"I want to have sex," I tell him bluntly.
"No," he murmurs. He wipes his chin on his arm and touches his lips to my forehead.
"You're awful," I tell him.
His face becomes serious, his touch severe.
"It's almost first light. I have to leave."
"No." I try to wrap my legs around him, but I can't move. "It's not fair. I should do you."
"Do me?"
I manage enough strength to lift my arm and slip it between us, take hold of his cock, and start to stroke. I rub it against my stomach as much as I caress it, and his hips start to move, thrusting in my grip.
"You're so fucking hot," he growls in my ear. "I'm going to think about you when I come for the rest of my life."
He shudders, and I stroke him faster. I'm clumsy, inexperienced, but I don't think it matters. His whole body is tight with excitement, shaking.
"I want to fuck you," he growls in my ear. "Hard. So hard you'll be comparing every guy you ever sleep with me to me. I want to break the bed and blow a load in you and watch your eyes while you take it. I want you to come on my cock."
"Do it," I plead. "Fuck me right now."
"I'm not doing a one-night stand."
He pulls my hand away from his cock and rises up.
I sit up and grab at him. I even try to take him in my mouth, but he pulls away and grabs his jeans.
"It's almost first light. I have to go or someone will
see me."
"Don't," I whimper. "Stay with me. We can…."
I don’t know what else to say.
He kneels in front of me and takes my cheeks in his hands. With a gentle kiss on my forehead, Jason slips his arms around me and holds me tight.
I want him to take me with him. Carry me out the window over his shoulder and take me to bed with him.
"You. I want you. Please."
"Anastasia," he says, carefully pronouncing each syllable. "I don't want you for a fast, cheap fuck. I told you what I wanted. It's here."
He touches the middle of my chest.
"My boobs?"
He sighs. "Yes. I do want your boobs, but I meant your heart, silly."
I swallow. "Do you like them?"
"What?"
"My boobs."
He rolls his eyes. "Yes, Ana."
"I'm sorry. I'm not very good with this. I've never been naked with a man before."
"You're doing just fine."
I sniff, and my eyes start to burn. "I don't want you to leave. Nobody has ever made me feel like this before."
He sighs. "I don't want you to get sent home. What the hell are we supposed to do?"
I shake my head. "Even if I am not sent back, I can't stay. When the term ends I have other things I must do, other places I must go. One day, I will be queen. A queen does not belong to herself. She belongs to her people."
"I don't care about kings and queens. I care about you."
"You don't, but I must."
"Can't you have this one thing? Just be with me?"
"It can't last."
"A thing isn't beautiful because it lasts. Give me one week."
"One week?"
"One week. We'll date, we'll go out. We'll have our time together. Then we'll decide what we have to do."
"One week."
He takes my hands. "Don't decide now. If you want to take the chance, come to my game on Saturday. If I see you there, I'll know."
He touches his lips to my forehead and stands up.
"Wait," I say.
I leap to my feet and do up his jeans. He goes quiet as I pull his shirt down over his head, smooth it over his muscular body and tuck it in. I even tie his shoes.
"I've never had a naked girl dress me before."
I stand up. "Nudity is not such a taboo in my country."
Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance) Page 11