I've also never felt anything like what I feel now, as I lay my head against Nikolai's chest in the hammock. I run my hands up and down his abs through his button-down shirt, and strong tingles of sexual possibility run through my body. He has an arm around me. It feels surprisingly good. I haven't taken an innocent nap together with a boy since college. Well... maybe it wasn't so innocent then, and it's not so innocent now. But damn, does it feel good.
He twists his head, pressing his lips against mine. His lips are smooth, full, and soft, a perfect shade of light pink that complements his dark complexion so well. He has a rough five o'clock shadow, and the sun never seems to set on it.
I can see the outline of his cock through his pants, and I can see that he's hard. Part of me wants to reach out, grab it, and submit myself to the untold pleasures that he can give me. I'm wet between my legs, and my nipples are hard under my shirt. It's like I'm naked in a snowstorm, even though the climate inside this greenhouse is warm and tropical.
But I'm not sure. I still have reservations. I'm not sure that he has my best interests at heart, and I'm still angry that he won't go confront the King right now about what's happening in his country. But I've always been good at seeing through people's bullshit, and my gut tells me that he's going to change his tune when he sees things with his own eyes.
I guess I have to take things at their own pace.
"Jenna," he says, "tell me more about yourself."
That's a vague request. I don't know how to answer it. "What do you want to know? More about America?"
"No. I grow tired of that line of conversation. You said you were engaged. Tell me what happened."
I almost tell him to shove it, but then I remember that his fiancée passed away too. Maybe on this issue we will understand one another.
"Well, I met him in college. And we thought we were going to get married and spend our lives together. But one day he went out to get a bag of cheeseburgers, and he didn't come back. His car was t-boned by a drunk driver."
Nikolai doesn't respond right away. "It saddens me to hear that. My condolences."
"It took a long time to get over it," I admit.
"I too thought I had met the partner of my dreams."
"And what happened?"
"Executed by a terrorist from the south. They used her as a pawn in their game against me." A look of sadness comes over his face. "I was young and naive then, and I failed to protect her. Never again," he says, "will I make that mistake."
"Damn. That's fucked up."
"Yes. It was, as you say, 'fucked up.' But, my little pet, that is neither here nor there. Thank you for sharing your story with me."
"Of course," I say, "I hope it helps you." I actually mean that when I say it. I genuinely feel bad for him, and I understand what he's going through. Well, sort of. Not the terrorist part.
He turns his head to face me as we lay in the hammock, and he runs his fingers through my hair. His fingers feel strong and thick, and I wonder how much pleasure they would provide. They feel pretty good just on the back of my head.
"I want you," he says.
I want him too, but I resist. "How do I know I'm not just a replacement for your fiancée?"
"You are nothing like her. She was beautiful as well, but obedient, not wild as you are. I have thousands of women at my beck and call who would be delighted to be her replacement."
"You really want me?" I ask.
"Yes. Very much so."
Fuck it. I can't say no anymore. Can't deny my body what it wants.
I lean in, and I kiss him deeply.
He kisses me back with a ferocity that I've never felt before. He's like an animal, like the cheetahs in the royal menagerie. Just raw power and desire, his body eclipsing mine in the hammock. He straddles me, and I feel his thick, hard cock pressing against my thigh as he plants kisses down my cheek and neck. God, it's ridiculous how badly I'm aching for him.
He grabs the lapels of my shirt and tears it open like paper, the buttons flying off with a series of popping sounds. He kisses my chest, the rough stubble on his face scratching my soft, pale skin. He brings his hands up my body, running them over my legs, my tummy, and finally my breasts. He cups my breasts through my bra and I feel myself flush with excitement.
I want him so badly to rip my bra off my body just like he did with my shirt. I want him to see everything I have to offer him. I want to give him pleasure. And I want to receive it from him.
He doesn't make me wait. He continues to straddle me, his cock hardening even more, its full length pressing against my thighs and belly. God, he must be nine or ten inches. I'm terrified and excited at the same time. It's been way too long since I've gotten laid, and I've never had something this big inside me. I'm hungry to feel it. I want to know how it feels pressing deep inside me, stretching me out for him.
He runs his fingers under the cups of my bra, and his fingertips brush against my hard nipples. His touch sends a surge of pleasure through my skin, all the way down between my legs. Every time I wiggle underneath him, I can feel my slick folds rubbing against each other, getting looser, getting ready to take him inside me. It's almost as if my body knows how badly I need him inside me.
"Jenna," he whispers to me, "You are the most perfect creature I have ever seen."
I grin, running my hands along his abs through his shirt, feeling the deep ridges. "You're not bad yourself. Now take this off." I tug on his shirt.
He pulls it over his head and throws it onto the ground below the hammock. He's muscled and defined, every contour exactly as it should be, not an ounce of fat on his body.
He grabs the cups of my bra again, then with a quick pull, snaps the elastic fabric completely, uncovering my breasts. His eyes roam over my chest, and I see the lust in his eyes. I know he wants me, but I think I want him even worse.
"Touch me," I beg. I need it so bad.
He leans his head down and places his lips against my right nipple, gently circling it with the tip of his tongue, sucking. I moan, running my fingers through his thick hair, pulling his head in closer to my body.
"Little pet," he says, "I am going to tear you apart."
"Do it," I say heavily. I'm almost out of breath and we haven't even started.
"Tell me how bad you need it."
"I wanna feel your cock all the way inside me," I say. "The whole thing. Please."
"Please, my prince."
Under any other circumstance, I'd laugh him right out the door. But I don't care right now. I'll say anything to get him inside me.
"Fuck me, my prince," I say. "Please. I need it."
He grunts with approval, running his hands over my breasts and tummy, tugging, pulling, squeezing, exploring every inch of my body.
I reach down to his belt, unbuttoning his pants. I slip a hand behind the elastic waistband, and for the first time, I feel the bare skin of his cock against my fingertips. The head is big and thick, and I can hardly imagine how it's going to fit inside me, much less his entire length.
He reaches down and pulls his pants off, revealing the full length of his manhood. God, it's glorious. I wrap my fingers around it, gliding them up and down lightly, feeling his cock twitch in my hands.
"Spit on your hands."
I lick my palm until it's glossy with my spit, and put it back on his cock. He jerks back, closing his eyes and moaning softly.
"Does that feel good?" I ask him, jerking his cock up and down.
"So good," he says, reaching down to my pants. He slides them down to my knees, and I don't even bother kicking them off.
He pushes my hands away from his cock, pinning them down above my head. He shifts himself, and I suddenly feel his erect cock pressing against my tight, wet entrance through the black lace fabric of my panties.
"Oh god," I moan. "I need it inside me."
He puts two fingers over the black lace, pressing them hard against my clit. Pleasure surges through my legs, my body flooding with excitement.
"Stop fucking around, and fuck me," I say.
That's all the encouragement he needs. He slides my panties to the side with his fingers, exposing my wet, swollen slit to him. He pushes the huge head of his cock against my opening, my wetness and my saliva lubricating our skin.
He slides his cock in slowly. I cry out as it stretches me wider than anything I've ever had before. But I feel my muscles loosening up, my body adapting, eager to have this man inside me.
His cock keeps sliding in, further and further, and just when I'm afraid it won't be able to go any further, I feel his hips against my ass. He's all the way inside me, and I've managed to take the whole thing.
Oh my god. I can't believe it all fit inside me, but I'm fucking glad it did, because it feels absolutely amazing.
"Fuck, darling," he says, "I've never felt anything this tight before."
He thrusts in and out of me, building his pace, and I feel pleasure surging inside of me. God, I need a release after being cooped up in this palace for so long.
"Do you like it?" I say, wanting to hear his encouragement. I wrap my hands around his shoulders, and I feel his muscles contract as he fucks me, his entire body working to fill me.
"God, there's nothing I love more. Fuck, I'm getting close."
"Oh, me too," I moan.
"Squeeze for me, baby," he says. "Squeeze tight."
I squeeze my muscles as tight as I can, and it intensifies the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of me.
"Like that?"
"Oh fuck," he says, "Exactly like that."
He penetrates me deeper and harder with every thrust, and I feel my own orgasm surging up inside me.
"Fuck," I cry out. "I'm gonna cum!"
My orgasm sends him over the edge. As I start to cum, he squeezes his eyes closed and I feel streams and streams of his warm seed shooting up inside me, deeper than ever before. I've never fucked unprotected before, and the sensation of his warm cum filling me up is absolutely intoxicating. It's like a drug, and when the spurts get weaker, I feel disappointed, wanting them to continue until his cum is pouring out of me, dripping everywhere.
God, he fucks so good.
Breathing hard, he rolls off of me and pulls me close to him. The sun is starting to set outside. I sigh, resting my head against his chest.
"Hey," I say, "what if we finish up this nap and then get something really good to eat later?"
He grins at me. "Now you're living like royalty."
A FEW DAYS LATER, I'm hanging out with Ashley in her room while Nikolai attends a Caprion city council meeting. She and I borrowed English translations of classic North Molvanian novels from the palace library. We're reading together, bullshitting and passing the time.
I don't tell her what happened between Nikolai and I, although I think she's onto me. She's hung out a couple times with a handsome young guard who does night duty at the palace, and I also suspect she's not telling me the truth about him.
We're laying on her bed with our feet kicked up in the air when there's a harsh knock at the door. I've gotten accustomed to rude interruptions at this palace, but something about the intensity of the knock just doesn't seem right to me.
"I'll get it," says Ashley. She hops off the bed.
When she opens the door, it's my favorite person, Gaius. Today he's wearing a jet black suit. He looks like he belongs at a funeral.
"Can I help you?" says Ashley. I can tell she doesn't like him either. He's probably been on her nerves this entire time, too.
"Orders. Straight from the King."
I feel a nervous knot forming in my stomach. I don't know if Ashley has had an opportunity to meet the wonderful King Alexandr, but I know that any orders from him can't be good.
"Deportation," says Gaius, and the word rings in my ear.
They're sending us home? Now? After all this?
I think back to what Nikolai said, about him being in charge of the capital city while the King handles the rest of the country. Since we're in Caprion now, surely this decision isn't the King's. I hop off the bed and join Ashley at the door.
"Listen," I say, "The prince invited me to stay here. So that goes for Ashley, too." It's a weak argument, but it's all I've got.
Gaius laughs cruelly. "You misunderstand, little girl. The King has final authority. This decision is not Nikolai's to make."
"I want to hear it from him," I demand. I wish Nikolai were here instead of at the city council meeting, so he could set this asshole straight.
"Your wishes are irrelevant," says Gaius. "Orders are orders. Count yourselves lucky that you're not meeting a worse fate. Pack your bags and be in your respective rooms by four o'clock this afternoon."
He leaves without another word.
Ashley's hand is still on the doorknob, but I grab the edge of the door and slam it closed.
"Well," she says, "That's disappointing. But it's probably a good thing we're finally heading home. This place seems unpredictable."
"Yeah." I fear that my voice betrays my doubt. Of course, I can't spill the beans to Ashley. Oh sorry, home doesn't sound so good after all, because I'm fucking the prince.
But the truth is, I'm torn. First, because I thought I actually had a chance to make a difference for the people of this country.
Second… well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to see Nikolai again.
That afternoon together in the hammock… I'm very eager to try that again.
But there's nothing I can do about it. Maybe he could do something if he were here. But I have no friends, no allies in this palace. No one to pull strings and get a message to him.
Oh well. At the very least I'll get a story out of this. That is, if I still have a job when I get back. Honestly, I'm terrified of what the American media is saying right now. Our faces are probably plastered all over the cable news networks and the Internet. The real Internet, that is.
I return to my room reluctantly and pack my shit. I go to one of the wooden wardrobes and swipe a traditional Molvanian dress, which I also stuff in my suitcase.
I'm sure nobody will notice it missing.
And if they do, they can afford to replace it.
At four o'clock sharp, a contingent of guards comes to my room. They're not fucking around this time. It's not just Gaius in his starched suit, it's a squad of guys with gigantic black assault rifles. They mean business.
I don't see Ashley, but I'm assured she's being treated well and will be put on the same plane.
As we step out of the main palace entrance, I see a van waiting to pick me up, the same kind that brought me in. It feels strangely sad to be departing this place now. It was almost starting to feel like home… almost.
That thought worries me. Maybe I've developed Stockholm Syndrome. Maybe that's the reason I was attracted to Nikolai.
I assure myself that this is all for the best, and I honestly am excited about the stories I'll be able to break at EDGE. Nobody else from the West has had the experiences I have. Although, the part about the hammock isn't getting within a hundred foot radius of any story I write.
I expect the van to take us toward the border so they can channel me back into Transylvania through the underground tunnel. But instead, the van takes me to a small airport on the outskirts of Caprion. It's about a 20-minute ride. There's a lightweight Cessna aircraft waiting for me there, and I can see Ashley climbing up the staircase to board the plane.
That's a relief. At least we're both getting out of here.
The van pulls up near the plane, and I board the aircraft, joining Ashley. It's a regular old plane, not a princely one. I'm surprised how accustomed to luxury I've become during my time here.
One of the guards tells me what's going to happen. We're going to be flown out of the country, through cooperative airspace, until we reach Iraq. From Baghdad, we'll take a commercial flight back to the United States.
I have no doubt there will be plenty of federal agents waiting to meet us the instant we disem
bark the plane.
I look at Ashley, and neither one of us speaks. For better or for worse, our adventure has come to an end.
So long to Nikolai, I think. I wonder if I'll ever find another man like him.
CHAPTER 5
- 15 MONTHS LATER -
THE BABY'S crying wakes me up. Again.
I look at the alarm clock, my eyes cloudy from my massive accumulation of sleep debt. It's 4:30 in the morning and I have to leave for work at 6:00. I've already been up twice tonight, and at this point it's not even worth going back to sleep.
I swing my legs out of bed stiffly, my body and brain fiercely objecting. Every part of me wants to lay down and sleep for days, but I have a little boy to take care of now.
He's crying in his bassinet, so I pick him up, cradling him in my arms. I gently rock him back and forth, trying to carry a tune. I'm so exhausted I can barely remember the words to "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."
They say birth control pills are 99 percent effective, but I guess the one afternoon I spent in the hammock with Nikolai was that last one percent. Because when I got back to the States, I missed my first period. Then I missed my second one. For a long time, I refused to even take a pregnancy test, not wanting to face reality. But my willful ignorance didn't change the fact that he'd gotten me pregnant.
I named the baby Josh, after my oldest childhood friend.
After feeding him, I take a hot shower. My vision is funny. Everything seems small and far away. That's what happens when you're as sleep deprived as I am. I've gotten used to it, though.
Josh sucks on a pacifier as I pack my bag for the day. I sigh, looking around the room. My old loft outside of downtown L.A. was like the fucking North Molvanian palace compared to this place. With how fucking expensive daycare is, there was no way I could afford to keep renting it. Now we have to make do in this tiny studio in Compton. It's not so bad though, at least when I wear ear plugs and remember to change the roach traps each month.
I tuck Josh into his stroller, making sure he's buckled in tight. Despite how hard my life has gotten since I had him, I wouldn't change it for the world. He's the greatest blessing I've ever received. But I don't think I'll ever tell him the truth about his father.
Prince's Dirty Little Secret (A Royal Secret Baby Romance) Page 5