101 Nights Box Set: Volume One

by SE Reign

  “You can still back out,” I tell him. “You can walk out there and tell them it’s all a huge mistake and to leave me alone.”

  “I could.” He smiles slowly, holding my gaze. Sliding a hand between us, he pauses in his thrusts.

  The vibrator in my ass goes live again.

  I arch instinctively, the sensations slamming into me once more. I’m already raw, worn out.

  Yearning so hard for another orgasm.

  “Or, I can spend the next three months fucking you,” he whispers. He flicks my clit with his finger.

  I shudder at the pleasure-pain, already close to coming. He starts slamming into me, hard and fast. I’m soon lost, clinging to him to keep from falling away from my body again.

  Stretching out on top of me, his hips keep moving, grinding against mine. He interlaces his fingers with mine and pins them above my head, using me to drive harder, faster and deeper into me.

  “Consider yourself claimed, Natalie,” he says against my ear in a ragged voice. “Neither of us is walking away from this.”

  I come quicker this time, my body soon convulsing under the wave that sweeps me away from myself, from him, from my room …

  From my regret.

  Three months. It’s only my life and my body.

  It’s a small price to pay to help ten thousand people.

  Serial Two: Tainted

  Chapter One: Elijah

  One week later

  This deal of ours is working out far, far better than I ever expected. For once, I’m surrounded by good press. The entire country has fallen in line behind their very own Cinderella.

  My father’s announcement of me becoming the next official head of state means I’m spending more time in meetings. I’ve taken on the role of an official government representative in addition to continuing to crush competition in business deals. But I don’t mind, because I’m the darling of the world right now, along with my American princess.

  I get into the back of my limo. It’s an early day for me on the business side, and I look forward to an afternoon fuck when I get home.

  George is there, seated in the back, waiting with a folder of information I’ve been expecting. One of the three people in the world I’d consider a friend, he’s the head of my security as well, and the only person I’d trust to handle it. We became friends at Eton College, both of us suffering the typical treatment afforded to spares.

  Noble families normally strive for an heir and a spare, and we were both second born too much heralded heirs. The limelight and attention goes to the heir while the spare is treated much like an unneeded spare tire: ignored and shoved out of sight unless an emergency arises.

  “The report you requested.” George stretches across the limo to hand it to me. His British accent is thick and cultured, even though he’s spent the past four years in the US with me.

  He’s holding a physical portfolio, and I know what he’s handing me before I take it. In a world where everything done online leaves some sort of electronic signature, sometimes paper is the safest way to convey important information you don’t want shared.

  “A week early, as usual,” I say, pleased. “Thanks, George.”

  Natalie Marie Hanover reads the title.

  The file isn’t large, a sign I take as a good one. I authorized George to hire whomever he had to in order to dig up everything about her they could over the course of the past week.

  “Only two red flags,” George summarizes. “The chick who got Natalie past my security and a three month gap in her history that I can’t find anyone anywhere who knows where she was or any physical evidence of what she was doing. It was about three years ago.”

  “She just disappeared?” I ask, at once surprised and intrigued.

  “My people are still digging.” He gives me a charming smile. Athletic and tall, George has grey eyes, high cheekbones and black hair. The combination of light eyes and dark hair is stunning on him, ensuring him a lifetime supply of women, even if he’s been all but disinherited by his wealthy father.

  I read the executive summary and am quickly reassured that I’ve found someone with minimal complications. Natalie’s debt is inconsequential, around ninety thousand dollars, that consists of student loans, credit cards, and a car. Her friends are few, most with clean records, and only one friend and two ex-boyfriends have their own tabs.

  I flip to those and start to smile.

  Alisha Martinez served one year for breaking and entering, electronic hacking of government databases. Felony charges dropped as part of a plea bargain.

  “That’s how you got in,” I say to myself, reading through the call logs and history of Alisha. “Your little friend is a hacker.” There’s a trail of contact between the two women leading up to the day Natalie broke in.

  I understand now why Natalie refused to tell me how she got into my penthouse. She’s loyal to her friend. Alisha hacked the systems and got her through security, probably even gave her a duplicate key card, allowing Natalie to stroll right into my home.

  “Smart girl and loyal,” I say in satisfaction, once again glad to be fucking the woman who is turning out to be the biggest boon to my life that I’ve ever had. She’s still learning how to be the submissive woman I require in bed, but she’s stirring more and more interest every day. If not because I believe she’s morally incapable of conspiring to take my money, then because I’m growing accustomed to having her in my life, to spending the day with her scent on my skin and clothing and holding her until she falls asleep every night.

  And well, I love the good press.

  “I’d love to ask that bloody hacker some questions,” George said. “I’m personally offended she was able to get past my security measures without me knowing.”

  I smile, amused at his anger, and read about Natalie’s ex boyfriends, her family, her employment history, college history … everything. My satisfaction fades, and I set the file aside, gazing at the skyscrapers visible outside my car window.

  There’s nothing here that tells me why I can’t get enough of her. Nothing that makes me understand her appeal. On paper, she’s about as boring as can get.

  In my presence, she holds my undivided attention.

  The contradiction is as intriguing as the woman herself, and I’m not sure I like it. I never get myself into something without knowing what I’m dealing with and more importantly, how to emerge from any challenge victorious. I know well that I can keep her in line. She wants to help her family too badly to act out.

  So then … what’s bothering me? The fact that it doesn’t seem like enough to have her fully obedient participation in my life and submissive in my bed? That should be enough in every way.

  “She’s generally clear. I already discharged her debt per your directions and had profiles written up on the exes. From what I can tell, there’s no one in her life that will raise a stink about anything,” George says. “But … Alisha is a problem for two reasons. With her skill set, she can probably make Natalie disappear. Might be an issue if she manages to shake you down somehow, which I’m not at all worried about. I think you can take care of anyone who tries. I am worried about Alisha accessing any of those secrets you don’t want revealed.”

  My attention returns to him. “You can’t prevent it?”

  “The best I can do is put an alarm system on the accounts linked to any of your … unassociated interests.”

  “Even using cut outs to hide the money trails?”

  “Yep.”

  “Shit.” I lean forward, not at all pleased with the information.

  “Which brings me to the second problem. You can’t ban Alisha from Natalie’s life, because the two are described by everyone who knows them as being closer than sisters.”

  I nod, understanding. “I tell Natalie not to see her, and Alisha might dig up dirt out of spite.”

  “One way to fix it,” George says, clearing his throat. “Permanent closure.”

  “Unlike my father, I won’t resort
to that measure. There’s nothing I can’t control by using pressure and money.” I’m quiet for a moment, thinking. “Why don’t you bring in Alisha for a chat?”

  George starts to smile. “An invited guest or compulsory one?”

  “Compulsory.”

  “It would be my honor,” George says and bows his head. “I’ve got some questions for her as well.”

  “Tomorrow sometime will work. I’ve got a gala tonight, Natalie’s first outing.” I flip through the file again. “These three months where Natalie disappeared. What potential is there that something troublesome can come out of it?”

  “From what I can see, I don’t think we have to worry. The girl has never broken a law, aside from two speeding tickets. She’s defaulted on student loans, mainly because she does a lot of charity work when she should probably be working overtime to pay the bills. She’s quite dull.”

  “She is, isn’t she?” Then why can’t I take my mind off her?

  “You chose well.” George chuckles.

  “She has no hobbies?” What is it with this girl?

  “None that I saw. It looks like she devotes a lot of time to charity.”

  “I don’t think charity can be a hobby.”

  He snorts.

  The portfolio isn’t going to provide me the answers I want. I hand it back to him.

  “Burn this,” I direct him.

  The car comes to a stop, and I glance out at the bright, sunny day to see traffic at a stand still.

  No surprise.

  “Your detail is briefed and ready for this evening,” George says. “Will you be headed anywhere before then?” He stretches out his legs. He’s wearing dark slacks and a button down shirt, his shoes are off so he can wiggle his toes. He’s always hated shoes. It’s one of the first memories I have of him – getting expelled from morning classes because he kept wearing sandals instead of the shoes that were part of our school uniform.

  “No,” I say and pat my briefcase. My father sent the legal paperwork he’s insisting be included in the pre-nup, stipulations meant to protect the Crown and its wealth in the event of a divorce or separation of any kind. “Today’s the pre-nup.”

  “She’s a loon if she signs that,” George says. “Three hundred pages?” He shakes his head.

  “She’ll sign it,” I say. No one knows of our deal, even George. “This is my father’s way of objecting to the marriage he’s all but ordered me to have. He put so much shit in this contract, he’s counting on scaring her away.”

  “What did your attorneys say?”

  “That she’s a loon if she signs it.” I smile.

  “You always get what you want.”

  “Of course.” No part of me doubts my little farasha will do what I tell her. She’s got too much riding on this to disappoint me.

  What I’m starting to doubt: if my father won’t just disown me anyway for pulling an American girl into the mix. Americans aren’t popular in the Middle East, and putting one on the throne as a queen has won over the States while possibly alienating my father’s kingdom from the rest of the Middle East.

  Fuck you, father. I’m doing what he wants – on my terms.

  “You sure about this girl?” George asks casually.

  I meet his gaze. I know what he’s really asking, as both a friend and a professional security advisor.

  “She’s not pregnant, and she doesn’t want my money. She won’t sell me out, that I can tell,” I tell him. “She’s a good girl.”

  “You don’t like good girls.”

  “I trust you more than anyone, Georgie. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

  “You always do,” George agrees. His grey eyes are sparkling. “I worry about you, old boy. Nothing more. I’ll keep pushing until I find out where she was for three months.”

  “I know.” I relax. “You were always my protector, weren’t you?”

  “Not that you need it, now. But you did at one point.”

  I say nothing, unwilling to acknowledge the period of my life I’ve worked hard to block. It’s too painful to remember. The only takeaway worth recalling: George was the only person anywhere in my life to stand by me through everything.

  “Take the night off, George,” I say quietly. “You work hard.”

  “You compensate me well, EJ. I’m happy with what I do.”

  “Nonetheless. I’m sending you a list of escorts, all of whom you’ve personally cleared. Enjoy yourself while I’m at the gala. On me.”

  “A gentleman never refuses a free night of fucking.” He laughs.

  “I’ll email you a list in order of my preference,” I reply with a smile. “Kinkiest on top.”

  “You are the best man in the world.”

  I pull out my smart phone and quickly send him the list. The moment I finish, the car pulls next to the curb in front of the Waldorf, where I’m living until my apartment in the city is ready. I see Mr. Jenkins, the prominent attorney Natalie used to work for, and two of his fellow attorneys waiting for me, right on schedule.

  “Security team in the lobby,” George says, sharp gaze on the figures outside the limo. “I’m working on your weekend plans, still. The Americans are insisting I provide them updates on your schedule and security measures, since you’re now an official diplomat of sorts.”

  “If they give you problems, let me know,” I say.

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  What I love about George: he’s as ruthless providing security as I am in business deals. I know without a doubt George will be effective in anything he does. Before parting ways with his family, he went into the British military’s version of special forces. I trust him with my life and now, with Natalie’s.

  “Wait for your team,” he says, as I place a hand on the door to get out.

  He’s also the only person on the planet who I’ll take orders from on occasion.

  Speaking of security … I reach into the small drawer where I keep them, condoms, and other pleasure items for long trips in the limo and rummage around.

  “You got any handcuffs?” I ask him, not finding them in the limo.

  “Always carry two pairs,” he says with a smile. He hands me one, and I tuck the cool metal cuffs into my pocket.

  Members of the press are loitering around, waiting for Natalie to come down, I suspect. I’m of interest, but we’ve spent the past week starving the press of any information about her. She’s been in my penthouse, partially at my direction.

  And I think, partially, because she’s afraid of being mobbed again. For now, it fits my plan for her to stay away from everyone. After she signs the pre-nup this afternoon, we’ll start the charade publicly.

  Although I’m not really looking forward to losing the intimacy of our little world. I enjoy coming home and finding her there, her warm body and soft skin always waiting for me, her legs ready to spread at my command. I’ve never had a live-in girlfriend, and it strikes me as odd how much I actually enjoy the company after the long days in meetings. Curling up with the same woman each night is not something I ever thought I’d want.

  The driver opens my door, and I step out to greet the three awaiting me.

  Mr. Jenkins wasn’t my first choice of attorney in the city. While prominent, he’s one of a dozen I might’ve reviewed when looking for someone local.

  There’s power in a client-attorney privilege. He can’t openly talk about Natalie – who worked for him for three years – without my permission, since he’s representing both of us. It’s one less potential leak of information I have to control.

  I am the master of my world. As she’s learning, I’m also the master of hers.

  “Mr. Jenkins,” I say, holding out my hand.

  “A pleasure,” he returns with a smile that crinkles up the skin around his eyes. We shake, and I lead them into the hotel, ignoring the press.

  Mr. Jenkins walks beside me. My assistants, Maya and Issa, are waiting in the interior of the hotel and join us at the private elevator leading
to my penthouse. The brother and sister pair are distant cousins, ones with no hope of inheriting any of my family’s wealth. They jumped at the chance to become my assistants four years before, after I graduated from Oxford.

  They’re quiet, effective and extremely loyal, all traits I require.

  We arrive to the penthouse, and I motion for the siblings to show the visitors to the conference room tucked behind the kitchen. With a nod at Jamil, I trot up the stairs to the second level.

  My heart is already beating faster, my dick growing hard. The first thing I do when I get home every evening is fuck Natalie until the tension of my day disappears. Even if I’ve got people waiting on me, today will be no exception. My body is thrumming in anticipation.

  I enter our suite, at once grimacing at the loudness of the television. The wall-sized TV is on one of those horrible gossip channels. Natalie hasn’t watched TV in the week she’s been here. Or maybe, she does until I get home.

  She’s clearly not expecting me. My gaze sweeps hungrily over her body. She’s wearing underwear and one of my t-shirts – and nothing else. Her long hair falls in loose ringlets down her back.

  Her ass is the thing of wet dreams, perfectly rounded and tight. The television is too loud for her to notice me, and I stay where I am, watching her. I still can’t pinpoint what it is about her that makes me want to hurry home to touch her, strip her clothes off and fuck her. Being with her calms me, makes my thoughts stop racing the way they always do. I even sleep better with Natalie than I ever have alone or with other women.

  I’ve fucked so many women, all shapes and sizes, and yet, this one, I can’t get out of my head.

  Her expression is both fascinated and troubled as she gazes at the screen.

  “Grace Kelly and Natalie Hanover … Two American princesses who wed into incredible wealth and privilege. More in our next story.”

  I’ve seen this story a few times today.

  I can’t imagine what Natalie is thinking. I’ve had women do everything under the sun to try to gain the position she’s in. Of all the women in the world, I managed to find the one who doesn’t want anything to do with becoming a princess.