Royal Scandal

by Marquita Valentine

  I suck harder on his finger.

  “Would you suck mine, Della? I haven’t had that sort of pleasure from you.”

  Nodding eagerly, I try to move, but he holds me fast. “Not yet. You first.” Then he does something with his fingers against my clit, something that makes my hips buck and my orgasm rush over me. I scream his name, hear it echo as he curses and pounds into me.

  Colin pulls out of me and I turn around as he rips off the condom, taking his erection in my mouth and sucking him in like my favorite piece of candy. He thrusts his hips forward, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists. His face is strained, his eyes are closed, and he’s holding back.

  I don’t want him to hold back.

  I love him.

  And I want to give him everything I have.

  Using my hands and mouth in tandem, I do everything in my power to make him let go. Doesn’t matter how wide my mouth has to open, how I have to take a breath every other thrust, or that my jaw is starting to ache.

  His eyes open right along with his mouth. He roars out my name, his hands tangling in my wet hair and holding me still while hot spurts coat my tongue and throat.

  My body responds to his dominance—my nipples peaking, my skin heating, and my clit throbbing all over again.

  “Swallow.” I obey him, but not only because this is fun but because I can sense he needs control. He needs me to submit to him and assure him that I don’t find him gross, or his family’s history disturbing—which I kind of do, given how they used and abused their power, but what does that have to do with him?

  He’s not any of them.

  He never will be.

  I let him slip out of my mouth and Colin hauls me to my feet, slanting his lips over mine in a thorough kiss. He lifts me in the air and I wrap my legs and arms around him, not breaking the kiss while he walks out of the pool.

  The humid air hits me as he lays me down on a bed made up of plush towels. Kissing his way down my body, he stops at my pussy and tongue kisses me there until I break into a million pieces and moan his name.

  He doesn’t stop until every last bit of my orgasm is wrung out of me.

  “I really like this place,” I say as he moves from between my legs.

  Wordlessly, Colin lies down beside me and rests his head on one hand while he looks at me. I touch his face, his strong jaw and sexy lips, brush my thumb along his cheekbones as a tender smile pushes up the corners of his mouth.

  “Are you still cold?” he asks and I burst out laughing.

  “Uh no. You?”

  He shakes his head. “Not in the least.”

  The storm rages outside, pelting the second stained-glass dome I’ve seen today with rain. “Do you think it’s set in for the afternoon?”

  “I can check the weather.”

  I grab his arm. “I was only trying to be conversational.”

  Colin laughs. “Was it that bad?”

  I bite at my bottom lip and then smile. “Nope, you made me that stupid.”

  “You’re welcome?” He traces a pattern of his own making in the valley between my breasts. “I’m not sure where all that came from.”

  He might not be, but I am. “Who cares where it came from? You were amazing.”

  “I care, but your compliment makes me feel better.”

  “The orgasm I gave you should make you feel like a rock star prince,” I point out.

  His mouth quirks. “True, but…ah, hell.” He rolls to his back. “I took out my frustrations on you.”

  “If that’s how you work things out in your head, then take them out on me anytime you want.”

  “It’s not right,” he insists.

  “Stop it.” I sit up and look him right in the face. “I know why you did what you did, why you talked and acted like you did, and because I love you, I’m completely okay with that.”

  “You are?” His eyes widen.

  I did not just say that. “What I mean is, I…” I shake my head and hold up my hands. “Just give me a minute to make heads and tails of what I meant.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Chapter 17

  Colin

  Della’s hands freeze in the air. “What did you say?”

  Sitting up, I repeat myself. “I love you, too.”

  “Is that the orgasm talking because I’m pretty sure mine is responsible for—”

  “That is the man in me speaking.”

  “Oh.” Her pretty eyes round. “That’s very romantic.”

  The slight note of disbelief in her tone doesn’t escape my notice. “You have to believe me because I have no reason to admit as much after sex.” I have to tease her a little because she looks ready to bolt. Her eyes narrow, her hands fall to her lap, and her full lips twist.

  That does the trick.

  “So you’re one of those guys.”

  I lift a brow. “Are you really accusing me of that?”

  Blushing a little, she looks away. “No. I’m sorry.” She takes a deep breath, her bare breasts rising and falling. I get a jolt each time I see her like this, not just of lust but of tenderness because we’re more than simply best friends now. “This is the most horrible way to react to someone saying I love you.”

  “Better than thanking me,” I counter.

  She makes a face. “Who would do that?”

  “I’ve heard horror stories from Theo.”

  “Women thank him?”

  “No, he thanks them.”

  Her head moves from side to side. “Seems par for the course.”

  “At least no one can accuse him of a lack of manners.”

  Della snorts. “God forbid.”

  I take one of her hands in mine, noting with possessive pride that my ring is on her finger. “Tell me the real reason you’re so quick to believe that neither of us really mean I love you.”

  “I hate that you know me so well,” she grumbles.

  “I love that you know me so well.”

  “Colin”—she says my name as she sighs—“don’t you get it? Stuff like this doesn’t happen in the real world. Happily ever afters for a maid and a prince—seriously? That’s Disney magic.”

  “Your favorite kind.”

  “I’m afraid that I’ll wake up and none us this will have been real.” She traces a pattern on the floor. “Especially not today.”

  I tuck my finger under her chin and lift her face to mine, placing a soft kiss on even softer lips. “This is not a dream. I love you and nothing in this world could make me take that back.” Her mouth trembles like she’s about to cry. “Don’t, love. If it bothers you that much, I swear I’ll never say the words again.”

  “Shut up.” She laughs, then sniffs. “I want to hear those words every day. Like three times a day at least because I’m going to tell you how much I love you at breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

  “When you wake up,” I say, and kiss her.

  “When you go to bed,” she replies, and kisses me.

  “In the middle of the night.”

  Another kiss.

  “When you’re sick.”

  And yet another kiss.

  “A bloke could get use to this,” I warn her, my voice rough.

  “When you’re in a beastly mood.”

  I laugh while her lips claim mine in the sweetest of ways. “In the library.”

  She nods. “I love you there the most.”

  “I love you here, in this room, at this moment, and forevermore,” I vow and pull her down to the floor with me.

  —

  We’re watching boats and ferries as the former dart about and the latter studiously try to avoid them. When I was younger, I joined in on the fun, Theo and Beaumont by my side. Sometimes even my father would join us.

  Those were happy times. Nothing was amiss in my world and my family seemed to be happy. And when the twins came along, two girls to rule our world, the entire Isle rejoiced.

  I remember staring down at those two tiny bundles of blankets with Beaumon
t at my side.

  “You are to protect them with your life, Colin.”

  “Theo, too.”

  “Yes.” He nods, then gets down on my level. “But you are the crown prince and one of your duties to the Isle is be the Crown’s protector. Your mother never had that, so you must make sure that your sisters remain safe.”

  “I will,” I promise, and cross my heart, like any other seven-year-old. “I love them.”

  “They love you, too.” He ruffles my hair. “You’re a good son and big brother.”

  “I can’t believe it’s our last day,” Della says, pulling me away from my memories. She leans back in my embrace, her back to my front as a roaring fire crackles and burns near us in the enormous hearth. It puts out enough heat that even with the balcony doors thrown open wide, the room is comfortable.

  “We could always extend our honeymoon.” I press a kiss to her head. Soft, silky hair teases my lips.

  “The boys would revolt. Besides, I miss them. Tressie, too.” She glances up at me. “When you said that you didn’t plan to move back right away, does that mean you’ll eventually want to move here?”

  I stare off into the distance, at the outer edges of the island that I love. But that love is nothing in comparison to what I have at home, with Della. With my boys.

  “If I did, would you come with me?” I ask.

  “Does that mean y’all are no longer in exile?”

  I wish she would simply answer my question, but perhaps she’s waiting on an assurance from me. “I suspect that our exile was merely a ploy to get us the hell away.” Or it could have been to save us. “In any case, you didn’t answer my question about moving.”

  “That would be a really big deal—I don’t know if I could leave Tressie.” She swallows. “Our agreement is for—”

  “I don’t give a damn about the agreement. Our marriage of convenience became anything but convenient the first time we kissed.”

  “Are you saying that you want this to be real?”

  “It’s already real. I want this to be forever.” She turns in my arms and I smile. “I know you’re not used to this kind of talk from me, but I can’t be blunter about what I want than I already have been.”

  My heart slams against my chest as I wait for her reply. “I want forever, too.”

  There is no way in hell I’ll ask her if she means it. I won’t chance it.

  “Prepare yourself, love, because this Sinclair keeps what’s his.”

  —

  That evening, I take Della dancing—not the easiest thing to do when you’re a prince with security. Every bit of the hassle and coordination is worth it to me.

  Her silver eyes sparkle and her cheeks are pink as we do the latest dance that’s spread like wildfire. I drink a pint, watching from the bar as she shimmies and shakes her delectable ass to the beat.

  She crooks her finger at me when the music changes.

  “I’m going in, lads,” I announce to Beaumont and Peter.

  Della laughs and wraps her arms around me the minute my foot steps on the dance floor. “This is the best wedding present ever.”

  “I didn’t buy the entire bar, love.”

  “Only the first and second rounds.”

  My impromptu planning might have not been very welcome. All right, so it wasn’t welcomed at all—hence why I bought two rounds for everyone. I’d gone a third round, but the mood had changed considerably as soon as the locals had finished their first drink.

  It also helped that we assured them that we had no plans to kick them out to make this a private event. Everyone could stay, drinks, dance…I lift my brows at the bloke checking out my wife’s ass and he grins, lifting his mug to toast us…and ogle us.

  What can I do in response, really? Della doesn’t deserve it, but as long as personal spaces are respected, I can’t complain.

  Besides, my wife’s ass is very fine.

  Sliding my hand down her back, I cup a plump cheek and squeeze.

  “Oh, that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” She promptly grabs my arse with both hands.

  Throwing my head back, I laugh. “Claim me however you wish, love. I won’t stop you.”

  She kisses the base of my throat. “Will you take me dancing when we go home?”

  “As often as you like…and as often as Beaumont will allow it.”

  She giggles, looking over her shoulder. “He’s such a dad.”

  “I’d say we make a run for it, escape this like naughty teenagers, but he’d find us and make us promise never to do it again.”

  She turns her attention to me. “He only cares about your safety.”

  “Yours as well.”

  “Such a good man.”

  “He is.”

  She shakes her head. “No—yeah, he is, but I was talking about you. A lot of guys in your position wouldn’t bother to listen to Beaumont.”

  “Then a lot of guys in my position would be kidnapped, dead, or worse.”

  “Worse?” She swallows nervously, then wets her bottom lip with her pink tongue. “I haven’t thought of that.”

  “And you won’t again. You—we are perfectly safe, else I wouldn’t have allowed you to come.”

  She gets this look on her face, the one that says you don’t allow me to do anything because I’m a modern woman. “Really?”

  “Absolutely.” I stare deeply into her pretty eyes as our bodies sway with the music. “You are so very precious to me. It’s not worth my pride or stubbornness not to listen to Beaumont’s advice.”

  Della’s face softens. “In that case—allow away.”

  She doesn’t have a choice. Hell, I don’t, either.

  At least I was able to choose her.

  Chapter 18

  Della

  I don’t think I’ve heard Aiden and Pierce shout so loud in my life. I don’t think they’ve ever squeezed me this hard, either.

  “We didn’t think you’d ever come home,” Aiden complains, and Pierce, that quiet, sweet boy, nods.

  I push back a lock of russet-colored hair that rests on Aiden’s forehead. “Hey, your daddy made a promise to always come back and he kept it. I kept it, too.”

  Colin kneels beside me, Pierce in his arms as he whispers in his dad’s ear. “Yes, of course, we can talk about that.”

  Puzzled, I eye Colin, but he shakes his head and mouths, “I will share later.” Guess it must be a secret father-and-son talk.

  My heart swells at the sight of the two of them and at Aiden as he hangs on to me for dear life. “Can we sleep here tonight?” he asks.

  I panic a little. Colin and I never worked out the details of where we’d live. I don’t want to leave Tressie living all by herself. It would feel like I was abandoning her. We are the only family either of us has in the world.

  “Up to Della and Tressie. I certainly won’t mind.” Colin winks at me.

  “You wouldn’t?”

  “No.”

  “Looks like y’all are staying,” I tell the boys, and they whoop and holler like good southern boys.

  Colin winces. “I assume that’s your influence.”

  I shrug. “Tressie’s, too.”

  He kisses Pierce’s head, then grabs Aiden and does the same before instructing them to go wash up for supper. Their little feet pound on the hardwood floors as they run to the bathroom.

  “Is it weird I like the sound of that?” I ask, feeling slightly shy. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, since I’ve known those boys since they were tiny and have had them over more times than I can count.

  “Perhaps you’re thinking you’d like the sound of more.”

  My heart races and not in a good way. Yes, I love children. Yes, I love Colin and I’d love to have his children, but it’s not possible. Not even in a fairy-tale romance like ours. But that doesn’t mean we can’t adopt or have a surrogate mother—I’m open to that.

  I’m just not quite open to sharing yet.

  But I have to. It’s only fair that Colin know the tru
th.

  I’m scared to death to tell him, but I take comfort in the fact that he already has kids with a woman he loved. He experienced the very thing I can’t ever provide and, yeah, I’m a little jealous, but I can’t help but feel sorry for the woman who won’t see her boys turn into men.

  Who didn’t get to see Pierce’s first step. Aiden’s first loose tooth. Basically, all the things I treasured being part of.

  Tears fill my eyes at the thought of all the things I got to see and do.

  “I love kids and I’ve always wanted to have a house full of them.” Tonight I’ll tell him the truth.

  “As you wish,” he says, and then he gives me a wicked look that rocks me all the way down to my toes. “How about we start tonight?”

  Before I can answer, the boys come racing back into the room, Tressie on their heels. “Don’t just stand there, get to work. Supper’s not going to cook itself, Your Highness.”

  “Is she talking to me or you?” Colin asks softly.

  “Both,” Tressie replies. “I’m not deaf.”

  Laughing, I shake my head. “She’s totally not, which made it impossible for me to sneak out with Lola in high school.”

  “No boys were allowed in your room?” One of his hands coasts down my back.

  “Nope.” I shiver under his touch. My breasts get heavy and tingly. “But you get to sleep with me.”

  Tressie bangs together pots and pans as she rummages through the cabinets. “Boys can sleep with y’all or in the guest room.”

  “With Della and Daddy!!!”

  Colin groans. “Yay.”

  Snorting, I smack my hand over my mouth while my stepmother shoots me a dirty look. Grabbing his arm, I pull him into the living room and turn on the television.

  “What did you do to piss her off?” I mutter.

  “I might have told her she can retire now,” he admits.

  “What? She loves her job.”

  He sighs, running a hand through his brown hair. “I know, but she’s over sixty-five and deserves to relax. I thought that with you married she could be free to travel or see her gentleman friend more often.”