Plaything at the Royal Wedding: An MFMM Royal Romance

by Lana Hartley

  “Daddy,” I whisper softly and look at the floor.

  “Another thing,” he belts out. “You never take risks. Harry lives for the adventure, and he’s always coming up with new ways to develop the company and knock it out of the ballpark. That’s Harry’s primary edge!” My father spouts.

  “You really think I’m that pathetic?” I look up at my father.

  My father scoffs. “Why would I ever want a boring person with a stick permanently up their ass to inherit my company? Molly, you would run it into the ground the second you got your hands on it. This is the entertainment business, and things have to be fast-paced all the time.”

  Wow. That fucking hurts.

  I push past my father, ready to run from the room and throw up the lunch currently forming a solid rock in my gut.

  “Where are you going?” my father calls behind me.

  “I’m asking to be excused, Daddy,” I say, hatred lacing my words, not looking back as I run out of the manor and into the blinding sunlight.

  Molly

  Storm clouds hang heavy over the city and threaten to further ruin my day.

  I drive my sports car as it should be driven—fast.

  My father’s words ring heavy in my ears.

  How dare he say I have no gumption.

  He doesn’t even know me or see me despite what I’ve done and continue to do for his company.

  Without me at the helm, Harry, not me, would indeed run it into the ground.

  I sigh and hurry back to my place of comfort, NYC, the city that is always alive and is always a comfort to me despite all that I’m up against.

  I contemplate my father’s words to me. No matter how harsh they are, I know deep down they’re true...at least a little bit.

  That still doesn’t make me feel any better, and for the moment, I detest him―as horrible as that is to say about my own father.

  In the end, I know I’ll kill more flies with honey. I’ll grin and bear it when I have to do, but at least for a few moments, I let myself sulk.

  I know I play it safe, and I don’t have what you would exactly call a ‘wild side,’ but I like order and organization―it’s just who I am.

  It’s not like I can completely change my personality at the drop of a fucking hat.

  Or can I…?

  I lose myself in thought as I contemplate ways to be more carefree and less uptight.

  Then it hits me.

  Fuck yes! I know exactly where to begin.

  I have to prove to my father and his little fucking minions that I’m the type to take risks.

  I pull out Owen’s business card. I graze my thumb against its grooved surface.

  I smile to myself and read the print on top.

  Owen Wolfe, Owner and Founding CEO of Lone Wolfe Pictures.

  On the other side is the Post It I stuck on the card after he left.

  I take a deep breath knowing what I’m about to do.

  I’m heading through the Holland Tunnel and there’s traffic. This gives me the exact amount of bravery and time I require in order to punch in the numbers to his private line. I hit dial right in time to resurface on the other side, in Manhattan.

  Once I’m back under the exposure of direct sunlight again, I take an action that, before today, would require much contemplating, in-depth overthinking, and a million brain cells of analyzing before coming to a decision.

  Yes, I know I’m an independent woman, smart and sophisticated. I shouldn’t be toying with the idea of going out with a playboy like Owen. You don’t have to tell me.

  In fact, don’t fucking tell me if I’m making a huge mistake by dialing Owen. That’s not part of the deal. You’re just supposed to sit there and listen to my life unravel―and if it derails into a train wreck, then it’s all on me.

  There’s ringing in my ear on the other end of the line.

  Shit! I can still hang up…should I hang up?

  No, I’m not supposed to take advice from you, remember?

  Owen answers on the third ring.

  “Owen Wolfe,” he says in a gravelly tone that instantly makes me wet.

  “Um…hey…it’s…Molly. You know, Molly Quinn? Um, you were in my office this morning.”

  I feel like I’m rambling, like I sound unsure because I am unsure.

  This was a bad idea.

  I think of his thick black hair, his dominating stature, and his eyes...those eyes that don’t flinch and that reveal a promise of darker things to come.

  “Oh, hi, Molly.” His voice changes instantly and becomes more approachable, smoother and sexier than fucking possible.

  I try to take even, measured breaths so that I won’t have a panic attack on the phone with him. I remind myself that I’m trying to turn over a new leaf and become more daring. Convincing myself will be half the battle.

  “Hi,” I say, and wonder if he can hear the grin spreading across my face.

  In this moment, I commit to myself that this isn’t about trying to score a date or a free dinner from Owen, or any man for that matter. I’m calling for a purpose. I’m using him to achieve that end.

  He will make me seem more fiery and adventurous. And I will make him seem like he actually has some fucking taste, because I already know I’m a class act and unlike anyone he’s been out with before.

  I sigh with whimsical delight. “I’m just calling to take you up on your offer,” I say.

  “You are?” His voice is surprised, but confident.

  That confidence turns me on like nothing ever could. There’s no fucking doubt about it, Owen is a man after my own heart—self-assured, dauntless, and damn sexy.

  “Yes,” I say firmly.

  I’ve gotten through the hard part, the calling and actually speaking to him. Now it should be effortless and smooth sailing from here on out…I hope.

  “That’s great,” he chimes with sincere enthusiasm.

  “My schedule is free now. I almost can’t believe it,” I chuckle. “You’re lucky.”

  “I’ll say,” he responds. “You may as well be telling me I hit the lottery jackpot,” he croons.

  “Oh, please,” I snort. “No cheesy lines.”

  “Okay, I can agree to that.” He chuckles, low and rumbling.

  Fuck, even his damn laugh is seductive.

  “Um…so where are you at the moment?” I ask and bite my lip.

  “I’m at home,” he states.

  “Where is home, might I ask?” I use my best flirtatious voice.

  “Are you coming here?”

  We go back and forth like the game I know this is.

  “Sure.” I clear my throat, trying to even the tone a little.

  “I live at The Avalon. Do you know it?”

  “Wow,” I say. “Yes, I know exactly where that is.”

  He’s not bluffing, after all; he is really a rich bastard.

  “Okay, my apartment is on the forty-ninth floor,” he declares.

  “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” I state, and feel the bubble of nervous yet excited energy rise in my belly as we hang up.

  I veer my car towards The Avalon thinking I need a drink or something to take the edge off what I know I’m about to do.

  This is so unlike me.

  Owen better be worth it.

  It seems like it takes ten milliseconds to get to his building, which gives me literally no time to mentally or physically prepare myself―but I’m ready for the challenge. I mean, I have to, don’t I? It’s part of the whole ‘proving myself’ package.

  The valet parks my car and I walk inside The Avalon with purpose and breezy confidence. The doorman lets me right in like he’s expecting me. I hit the elevator button and ride the entire forty-nine floors solo.

  I notice the multitude of floors in this building and marvel at how tall this skyscraper really is. And then it hits me...the forty-ninth floor is the penthouse.

  Owen owns the entire top floor of this majestic building. This sends my nerves into overdrive. And I d
on’t get it because I’m at ease around people with money, but something about Owen is just different.

  He makes my heart beat a little faster and there’s no denying the heated wetness that even now is soaking through my panties.

  On the way up, I wonder how he lives and what kind of people he has over. Do they hang out all the time and sip brandy and puff cigars or something? I wonder what the fuck men do together when they’re so rich they don’t even know how to spend all their money.

  I walk down the hall and ring the doorbell to Owen’s apartment. I take a deep breath and adjust my clothes, running my hands through my long blonde hair.

  A few seconds later, the door swings open and Owen stands before me, gorgeous and sexy as ever. I don’t even know this guy, but I know of him now, and that’s at least enough for me to keep from getting cold feet and running away.

  My mind is already made up, and there’s no turning back now.

  To my surprise the Owen is inciting, hot and barely wearing any clothes. He’s got a pair of black sweatpants on, and he doesn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed to be seen in this condition.

  I instinctively glance down and notice his package bulging between his legs.

  Holy shit, it’s huge, I can tell.

  I want to get my hands on that hard cock of his, and I have no idea where this motivation is coming from, but I’m suddenly compelled with the chemistry that swirls around us, as if I have no control over any of it.

  His chiseled body enthralls me, and I’m becoming completely absorbed by how ripped and cut he is.

  I want nothing more than to touch him all over and have him put his hands on me too.

  “Come on in.” Owen smiles at me and there’s a fire blazing in his eyes.

  I find myself at a loss for words, wanting to be devoured by whatever is fueling that passion.

  He moves aside to let me through.

  We stand in his foyer for a few moments as I continue to take him in. His chest is glistening. I find myself walking slowly towards him, drawn in like a magnet.

  He gives me a naughty, devilish grin.

  “So, why is your schedule suddenly clear?” His eyes flash with mischief.

  I don’t fucking know why I do it, but something takes over me, something uncontrollable. It’s like everything that I am snaps. I realize I’m unleashing my inner bad girl. It’s a side I normally keep firmly in check, ignoring her existence even to myself.

  But right now? I’m ready to let that side come out to play.

  I meet his eyes and try as I might to not look away something in him is stronger than me. And I can’t bear to see it, to have myself be so exposed to this man.

  I’m so strong all the time, but something about Owen catches me off guard and makes me weak at the knees.

  You’re fine. You can do this. Just be adventurous, remember.

  So right in the foyer, I slowly begin to strip down to my black, lacy lingerie. His eyes deepen as he watches me closely.

  I stand before him, nearly nude, taunting him.

  I’m vulnerable and exposed, a feeling that is not normal for me.

  My body radiates the heat that I feel inside.

  And I catch his gaze and he challenges me to say it.

  “This is why,” I say, and eye him seductively, trying to calm my racing heart.

  What the fuck will happen now?

  Owen

  I have to do a double take.

  Fuck. Is she really standing here in front of me with nothing on but a black lacy lingerie dress?

  This is totally fucking unexpected.

  Instinctively, I take a step forward, needing to drink in her intoxicatingly perfect body. Her arms are slender, and her tummy is flat from what I can already see through the lingerie.

  She’s playing a naughty game, and even though I know I’m the bait. I don’t fucking care. I need to possess her.

  She’s biting her lip and staring at me. I know she’s teasing.

  I blink again, this is real…right?

  She’s not just a figment of my imagination.

  To prove this theory, I grab her arms…gently but with a slight tug of force.

  Her skin is so soft. Chemistry and heat surge between us as my fingertips brush up against her neck.

  I don’t know which part of her to explore first. Fuck, I don’t want to miss something or leave a single area out.

  “You’re a naughty little slut.”

  I breathe into her neck as I watch goosebumps prickle on her skin. I know it’s from pleasure by the lusty, needy gaze she’s giving me.

  My own eyes cloud over with desire.

  Her perfume smells amazing. I have to explore her body, a fucking temple of erotica.

  I pin her against the wall.

  “Do you like this?”

  I give her a devilish grin.

  She bites her lip again and smiles.

  I squeeze her wrists tighter, firmly holding her against the wall, pressing my cock into her belly, even though I’m still wearing my sweatpants.

  “Come on, baby girl, talk to me.”

  “You’re so hot,” she finally breathes out.

  I know she wants to surrender to me.

  “Is this a wild fantasy of yours?”

  My question is more like a plea.

  I know which direction we’re going, I just want to hear the words from her. My desire is a wild beast that needs taming.

  “Yes.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, a passion-filled moment between us.

  She doesn’t try to escape my grasp. She all but melts into my arms.

  “I want to kiss you,” I challenge.

  “Then why the fuck aren’t you?” She raises an eyebrow.

  Fuck, she’s sexy and she knows it. She’s playing me like a fucking violin, and it’s music to my ears.

  My cock twitches and tingles in my pants, begging to be free to rub against her inner thighs.

  The air is dense and sweaty between us. My heart pounds in my eardrums as my breath catches in my throat.

  I want this moment to linger in my mind forever. I take a mental picture before I lean in for our first kiss.

  I press my face into her neck, burrowing in to kiss her there first, to tease and tempt. I nibble on her earlobe, and she runs her hands through my hair.

  Fuck, it feels so good having her hands on me right now. It makes me want her to touch me for fucking ever.

  Fuck, how I wish that life had a pause and rewind button. This is one scene I’d put on repeat.

  I move my lips to her mouth, hungry with desire for her. With an almost frantic need, our lips finally meet as I crush my mouth to hers.

  She tastes like sweet cherries. Her hair smells like coconut, and I’m in fucking heaven right now, intoxicated by her scent and taste.

  She parts her lips to allow my tongue inside for exploring. Her kisses send electrifying jolts of pleasure running up and down my spine.

  “I want to taste you.” My voice drips with sexual innuendo because, at the same time, I’m talking about her sweet pussy. And she knows it.

  “Feel me,” she begs.

  Good fucking girl. She knows the game already. And a game is all this is. She's for my pleasure.

  I take my skilled hand and push it between her legs.

  “Fuck,” I bite out instinctively as soon as I feel the wet, sticky goodness.

  She smiles wickedly at me.

  “I told you.”

  “Did I do this to you, baby?”

  I already know the answer to my own question is hell fucking yes.

  She grins and giggles a little and I think she's not quite taking this game seriously enough, a transgression I'll have to punish her for later.

  I let go of her wrists and leave her unpinned…at least for now. I’m so hot for her that I could fuck her right here, right up against the wall in the middle of my foyer.

  I want to take care and precision with this one, though, soaking up the moment to mak
e it last forever. Slowly, I take her hand and lead her to the bedroom.

  “Where are we going?” Her voice is thick with desire.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to stop touching you,” I reassure her as I bring her to my master bedroom.

  I turn on a soft lamp. I still want to be able to see every feature of her beautiful shape, her gorgeous face, but I want perfect lighting to fill the room. The ambiance is important, every guy knows that.

  “Come over to the bed,” I instruct, and she does as she’s told.

  “What are you going to do to me?” she asks.

  Sure, I can narrate, but I’d rather show her in actions how I’m going to destroy that sweet pussy and bring her to the exploding finale of orgasm.

  She quivers as I lean her over on the bed and push her legs open.

  “Fuck, you’re so wet,” I groan, stating the obvious.

  “Touch me,” she begs. Her eyes dazzle with erotic longing.

  I push her legs open, as wide as they will go. I take a sweet moment to stare at that already soaking, gleaming pussy.

  Her juices drip and linger on her sensitive, swollen pussy lips.

  “Get ready for the ride of your life,” I state with confidence as I get on my knees beside her on the bed.

  Her legs shake with anticipation and I grip her tight for support. I want to tease her first and make her dance on the edge of orgasm before I even begin.

  I kiss her inner thighs first, slowly working my way up with excruciatingly teasing movements that I know are driving her fucking crazy.

  “Please,” she whimpers.

  I pull her lacy panties off in one smooth motion and kiss the outer folds of her pink, fleshy, dripping pussy lips. She arches her back and moans softly. She’s so fucking sexy when she moans like that.

  Precum drips from the tip of my cock, and I know it won’t be long before I let the snake out of its cage.

  I move my tongue to spread her pussy lips. I taste the first drops of her sweet nectar as I make my way to her engorged clit.

  She moans a little louder now and arches her back again.

  I press my face completely between her legs, devouring all her ripe juices.

  “Fuck,” she yells as she digs her nails into the back of my head, pressing me closer to her.