by Eden Finley
I dumped my phone on my bed and headed for my closet. The wall in the back was a false front. One press and the thing clicked open.
Darkness swallowed me as I followed the emergency strip lighting on the ground, guiding me in the right direction. I didn’t bring my phone on purpose. Bryant the Tyrant would track me down before any fun could happen.
The adrenaline hit I’d missed welcomed me back with a twinge of nostalgia. The old days of sneaking out, getting photographed in a club, and then being splashed all over the news made me miss the days of being yelled at for being irresponsible. Now I was yelled at for pissing off members of parliament with my liberal thinking.
When I reached the end of the passageway, I held my breath and opened the door to the conservatory on the east wing of the building.
No security waiting for me. Thank God.
There was security on the grounds though. A flashlight shone through the glass doors as a man in tactical gear and his German Shepherd strolled past.
I threw myself on the floor, underneath an old grand piano. Probably should have taken up Delia’s offer on a night an event wasn’t being held at the palace.
With the watchman gone, now was as good a chance as any to get to the hedges that lined the fence. I army crawled my way to the door and thought: If the paparazzi could see me now. Headlines would read: Crown Prince, Crawling His Way to a Random Fuck.
The things I do for my dick.
One more glance outside showed the coast was clear. It wasn’t far across the yard from this patio. I could make it.
The door barely made a sound as I snuck through, and as soon as my polished shoes hit the grass, I ran.
My heart sped up and so did my speed as a loud “Hey!” was yelled from behind me.
“Farrrk.” I kept running.
“Stop where you are! Put your hands up.”
Shit, they didn’t know it was me. Most likely, I had a gun trained on my head right now.
I reached the hedges that covered the brick wall fence. As I turned towards the two guys after me, with their flashlights in hand and guns pointed at my face, I threw up my hands in surrender.
“Good evening, boys. I don’t think King Edmund would be too happy to hear you pointed a gun at the crown prince’s head.”
“Y-your Highness,” one stammered and lowered his gun. “What are you doing out here?”
The other holstered his gun.
“Tell Bryant I’ll be home soon, will you?” I didn’t give them a chance to respond before turning on my heel.
Even though it’d been years since I last scaled this wall, my muscle memory kicked in, and with two short steps up the wall, I threw myself over the eight-foot brick monstrosity.
My feet landed with a thud.
I half-expected one of the security guys to follow me, but they didn’t. Damn. One of them—if not both—would be fired in the morning.
Sorry, guys.
A black town car idled on the road, and I hoped to God it was Delia’s.
When I climbed in and met her smug face, it took everything in me not to attack her mouth and ravish her on the spot.
Eh, screw it.
I leaned over the seat and brought my lips to hers. A woman’s mouth was always softer compared to a man’s, but that didn’t stop the surprise at how delicate Delia’s lips were. She opened for me, and instead of diving in like my instincts wanted me to, I found myself cherishing her with my tongue, slowly teasing hers.
The kiss that I thought was going to be molten and needy happened to be sweeter than I expected. That didn’t stop me from panting when I pulled away from her.
This girl knocked me on my ass with a mere promise of dirty things and one kiss.
“Step on it,” I croaked. We needed to put distance between me and the palace. Pronto.
“Was beginning to think you’d lost your touch,” she taunted. “Have trouble getting away from your babysitters?”
“You dare mock your prince?”
“Where we’re going, there is no royalty.”
“Where are we going?”
Delia reached for something under her seat and pulled out two masks. “Somewhere neither of us will be recognised.”
My cock twitched in approval.
Roman
I didn’t know what was worse: working security detail for the bratty princess or my new detail where I had to wear a mask and stand around Mystique—the high-end sex club with the stupidest fucking name.
The fact I had to think which was worse showed how much I needed to get laid.
Usually, I didn’t mind this gig. It was a hell of a lot quieter than watching over a seventeen-year-old who constantly shouted and whined about having bodyguards around her. Suck it up, Princess. Ever since the assassination of the crown prince and princesses, the rules for the royal family had changed.
Her twenty-two-year-old brother, Quincy—Quin to everyone and everything except on his royal letterhead and birth certificate—was second in line to the throne and had more bodyguards than her, but that was an issue in itself because it meant me and my partner, Brad, found ourselves at this highly anonymous club nearly every weekend.
Don’t mind me, folks. I just have to make sure you don’t use your naked bodies to kill my royal charge. Carry on.
Even the smoothest of people couldn’t pull that off without looking like a creeper.
Although it wasn’t said aloud, my assignment changed due to the fact I was able to hide Xander’s sexuality for so long. They could trust me to keep my mouth shut about Quin and his sexual exploits.
Brad approached my side. “The royal prick is otherwise engaged in a private room.”
“Bloody hell,” I muttered. “What part of not leaving our sight does he not understand? He’s already in enough trouble for blowing off the palace charity event tonight.”
“He said he was sick of us perving on him. As if we got off watching him fuck flat-chested girls.”
God, Brad was a dick. Actually, so was Quin. They were matched perfectly to work alongside each other.
“You want to take lead while I find some pussy?” he asked.
“You’re on duty.”
“You know we’ll be here for hours. One of us may as well enjoy ourselves. I figure you never indulge—”
My backhand flew to his chest to get him to shut up because I was positive my eyes were creating an illusion of their own making.
“Do you know them?” Brad tipped his chin in the direction of the couple who’d walked through the entrance.
Yes. He should’ve too if he were any good at his job.
Maybe it was that I’d spent every single day for two years with the guy. Maybe it was that I had the delusion of once being in love with him. But I knew that gait, that hair, those shoulders. He might’ve been wearing a black mask that covered the top half of his face, but I knew his body. I knew it as if I’d been intimate with the man, when the closest I’d ever come was overhearing him have sex with others in the room next to mine.
God knew how many times I’d close my eyes and wish it were me he was fucking.
My eyes scanned the rest of the dark club looking for his security detail and came up empty.
Prince Alexander was alone. Well, not entirely. An elegant woman in a deep green dress was on his arm. She looked familiar, but with a white mask covering her eyes, I couldn’t pinpoint her. I doubted she was one of the prince’s regulars, though. The women he slept with were rarely elegant and would not be considered noble. He only slept with people he knew weren’t after wife status. Even though he was never in contention for the throne, the palace had to approve the spouses of the first six in line. None of his consorts would have fit the bill.
This woman though. She carried herself with grace, and everything about her was dignified.
Where the fuck were his bodyguards?
Brad’s hand waved in front of my face. “You still with me? Hello?”
“Sorry. I thought I saw someone
I knew.”
“Awkward,” he sang.
“Right. Hey, can you go stand by Quin’s room? I have to check something out.”
“Go for it.” Brad’s condescending tone pissed me off. I was a member of the royal guard and needed to make sure Prince Alexander was safe. I wasn’t going to join in on whatever they were doing there.
That was the story I’d stick to.
The couple grabbed a drink from the bar and then headed in my direction. His arm wrapped around her waist, and she giggled at something he whispered in her ear. My throat dried, and my body froze. I held my breath until they passed me, entering the sheer curtain that led to a not-so-private room.
I knew what was in there—Quin had forced us in there numerous times, and it was way too tempting to follow.
The bodyguard in me told me to make him safe. The man in me wanted to go in there and become the someone he’d need protection from.
My feet and dick weren’t as conflicted as my head. They carried me into what I called the Voyeur Room. I was sure it had some other shitty name like Fantasy Fuckstead or whatever, but it was essentially a room where only sheer curtains covered your view from all the sex. Each bed had its own curtain. Some couples left their nook wide open for others to watch, and some left a stool outside, which encouraged people to come closer. I’d seen a guy get in on the action after watching from the stool and being invited to join.
They always had to be invited. That was a rule here. Consent came before coming. On our first time here, I joked that should be their motto. Our attendant wasn’t impressed.
In the two years I worked for Xander, he’d never had a threesome. Therefore, I told myself I could safely cross that curtain because there’d be no chair in front of their bed. No way. I could go in there and watch—the point of the room—and make sure no one tried to assassinate him.
Because extremists totally hang out in clubs like this.
I told my conscience to shut up and made my way into the room.
Fuck. There was a chair. And a guy eyeing it.
Oh, hell no.
My possessive and protective instincts kicked in before my head could rationalise and tell me to back off.
My stride was borderline desperate as I headed for the seat, but when I knew I was safely going to beat the other guy to it, I slowed down and tried to compose myself.
I slid into the seat with ease and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
Xander and his date didn’t notice me. They were too busy kissing. Lying on their sides, they were wrapped up in each other and not paying any attention to me. I was okay with that, but my cock had other ideas.
The woman’s silk dress pulled tight against her ass when Xander grabbed a handful. I groaned. I didn’t know what I was jealous of—his hand or her ass. The girl was hot, no doubt about that.
I must’ve been louder than I realised because they stopped and lifted their heads in my direction.
Sweat dripped down my neck as I wondered if Xander would recognise me. My mask only covered my eyes, unlike his which covered half his face. Granted, I’d cut my hair and bulked out a bit this last year, but it wasn’t as if I’d gone through an entire transformation. Turned out sexual frustration and babysitting bratty royals was a great incentive to hit the gym.
The blonde giggled against Xander’s chest. “I told you it was a good idea to put the chair out.” She slowly sat up and drank me in. “Which one of us do you like?”
She was forward, I’d give her that.
My eyes went to Xander and then back to her. The complete honest answer would be him. It wasn’t that I didn’t find the woman attractive, but I’d wanted the man in front of me for the entire two years I worked for him and resisted every temptation. This was my only chance to have him. If I was going to take it. Which I wasn’t. Because that’d be a stupid idea. I was still part of the royal guard, whether I was assigned to him or not.
“Both,” I choked out. Shit, that wasn’t the answer I should’ve given. I needed to walk away.
Xander gave a lazy smile. “My type of guy.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered.
The woman held out her hand for me to take. “You can call me D. He’s Z.”
I tried to place her—who she was. A Lady D-something didn’t ring familiar. Then again, his name started with an X, not a Z. Maybe she did the same. Maybe now wasn’t the time to care. I took her hand. “I guess you can call me R, then.”
“Argh? Like a pirate?” Xander chuckled.
“I’d offer to wear an eye patch if it got you off, but my mask would be in the way.”
His gaze raked over me and burned with lust.
D tried to pull me forward, but I held still. “Is this a formal invitation to join you guys? Don’t want to break the rules.”
She stepped towards me and pushed her petite body against me. “This is our formal invitation.” Her hand wrapped around my neck and brought my mouth to hers.
Her lips were parted, ready for me, and she shivered when my tongue pushed inside. For all her forwardness and aggression, her kiss was tender. Tentative.
I pulled her hard against me and loved the squeak of surprise that escaped her. Her mouth became more frantic, and shit, how long had it been since I’d kissed someone?
For the last three years, I’d been all about work. I rarely got time off. There were hook-ups in between there somewhere, but I struggled to remember any of their names—or their faces—with this girl’s tongue in my mouth.
This was wrong, and I needed to pull away, but when Xander said, “You two are hot together,” I couldn’t stop.
D broke the kiss and laced her fingers with mine, dragging me towards their bed. She pushed me down next to Xander and then dragged the chair back inside the little nook. She closed our curtain, and while the sheerness of the material didn’t block out much, it was private enough for me.
Instead of joining us on the bed, D took the seat.
There was a moment of awkwardness where she stared at us and us at her, none of us saying or doing anything.
She rolled her eyes. “Are you two going to entertain me or not?”
I couldn’t help laughing because she either didn’t know who Xander was or didn’t give a shit he was royalty. He’d get off on that.
All traces of humour faded when Xander moved closer, and his lips grazed my neck. My cock went from a semi to an iron spike trying to break through my zipper. I tilted my head, giving him more access.
Xander’s lips were on me. That thought somehow made my brain short-circuit. As many times as I’d fantasised about this, I didn’t think it’d actually happen.
He moved upwards, and I turned my head to claim his mouth. He kissed nothing like his date. Where she was soft but needy, he was fiery and dominant. My imagination couldn’t have conjured up kisses so perfect. Two opposites who could each make me feel alive.
This last year, I pushed myself in the gym to the point of pain, because it was the only thing that reminded me I was still here. I didn’t die in the attacks like I should have. I might’ve lost the most important person to me—even if he wasn’t one of the people who died—but I was alive. That had to count for something.
I realised now that what I’d been doing these last twelve months wasn’t living. It was existing. This, where I was right now, was living. It was fleeting, I knew that, but I’d do anything in my power to make it last as long as possible.
When dreams came true, there was supposed to be a moment of disappointment. Expectations ruined everything, but as my tongue stroked against Xander’s, I realised my fantasies were dimmed by misconceptions. I knew he’d be domineering with his take charge attitude he exuded, but his mouth gave as well as took.
I rolled us over so I was on top of him, refusing to break contact. His fingers worked the buttons of my shirt as I wrestled with my jacket. Once Xander had my shirt undone, he slipped it off my shoulders, and his hand trailed down my chest to the hard mu
scles of my stomach.
He stared down between us at my abs. “Fuck, you’re ripped.”
“Problem?” Since when did he have an issue with muscles?
“God, no.” Xander’s hand travelled down my back and gripped my ass to pull me tighter against him.
He was hard under me, and grinding against him brought me to the edge. I had to back off.
Kneeling between his legs, I straightened and reached for his cock, stroking it on top of his tight pants. I loved the view of him breathing hard and struggling to keep his eyes open. I swore I could hear the quiet muttering of counting coming from him, too.
Redness flushed his cheeks and neck, burning its way down his chest. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen, and if I didn’t stop, the sight of him unravelling under my hand could be enough to make me come without even touching my dick.
My hands yanked his already loose bowtie from around his neck, and I got to work on his shirt. Kissing my way down his chest as I undid his buttons, I slid off the small bed and onto my knees.
“I want my mouth on you,” I rasped.
“Fuck yes,” he breathed and reached for a condom on the bedside table.
“Safety first,” I quipped. I didn’t want anything between us. I wanted my mouth wrapped around his bare cock. He’d been tested—I’d been there for his doctor’s appointments—and I was all right to go, but this was a sex club, and he obviously had no idea who I was. An STD scandal was the last thing Xander needed to explain to the king and queen. There was the urge to reveal myself, but I worried he’d reject me if he found out it was me. And I needed this. Now I’d decided to do it, there was no turning back. I needed to fuck him out of my system, because I wasn’t moving on, even a year after leaving his detail. I thought I was over it, but with one kiss, I was back to pining—burning—for him.
I worked Xander’s belt and zipper, pulling his pants down to his ankles. He was going commando which didn’t shock me in the least. Giving him a hard pump, I reached for the condom with the Mystique logo on the foil packet.