by R. S. Lively
I pull off the light cotton t-shirt I had thrown on that morning and toss it onto a chair near the balcony door. Piper giggles and I grin, knowing that sound means she is feeling playful. I unbutton my shorts and let them drop. I walk over to the side of the bed and Piper sits up, beckoning me to lay down next to her.
I lie down and reach to pull off my boxers, but Piper rolls over onto my legs, clasping my hands with hers and pushing forward for a deep, intense kiss.
"Let me," she says, moving my hands out of her way.
Slowly, she pulls down on my underwear until my cock springs forth from them. Once they have been tossed to the ground, she resumes her position on my legs, hovering over my cock.
Achingly slowly, she moves her face down, maintaining constant eye contact with me until she is at the base of my shaft. Her tongue slips out and she runs it along the bottom of my length before sliding up it, all the way to the top, where sweet sticky fluids have already formed. She licks me until I am breathless and lightheaded with desire.
Piper's eyes never leave mine as she places her mouth over the head and sucks gently. Opening her mouth, she takes my entire cock between her lips, and the sudden warmth and softness of her mouth overpowers every rational part of my brain. I can think of nothing I want more in this moment than Piper. She strokes me with one hand while squeezing her mouth around my cock with just the right amount of pressure, sending me quickly to the edge of orgasm.
I know I won't last long, and I reach to stop her, but she pushes my hand down forcefully. This simple act of control from her emboldens and pushes me closer to my release. I can feel my insides beginning to clench and the muscles in my thighs tighten.
"I'm going to come," I say, and Piper slides her mouth all the way down to the base.
I explode into her, the orgasm so strong that I’m temporarily struck mute. She milks me with her hand and her mouth, swallowing with a satisfied whimper as she cleans me thoroughly with her tongue.
She sits up, slowly continuing to stroke me, fully aware of how sensitive I am right now. Silently she crawls forward until her core is above my face, and I can feel the heat of her radiating down on me. I hunger for her, but I want to give her this moment of control, allow her to fulfill her needs before I take what I want from her again. Already my cock is on its way back to full hardness as she moves her panties aside. She lowers slightly, and I slide my tongue out to find her. I hear her gasp as I slide it inside.
Piper
Christian thrusts his tongue inside of me before removing it and sweeping up the sides of my pussy. He is enjoying this moment, and so am I. The power of the man beneath me is so palpable, but I know he’s restraining himself to allow me this control. I know at any moment now he is going to take me, as I can see his erection has recovered and is standing as stiff as when I first removed his boxers.
I feel his hands move to cup my ass. Just his touch alone sends a shiver of lust through me. His tongue is still lazily working its way toward my clit, finding its way to my most sensitive area. One of his hands moves, and I feel it slide down my ass and to my tight slit. At this moment, he begins to gently suck on my tight clit, and I moan loudly. A finger slides inside of me and his other hand reaches up to my breast, massaging it through my bra.
Concentrating on the feeling of his fingers and tongue inside me, I focus on removing the bra to give him free access to my breasts. Once it's off, his fingers reach for one, kneading the breast, and twirling his thumb around the sensitive peak. I use one hand to do the same to the other and I can feel myself barreling toward an orgasm. Christian begins to ramp up the speed of his tongue, and his finger begins to slide in and out of me, mimicking the motion his cock will do soon. I hear myself moaning in pleasure, and the abandon in my own voice sends me even higher. The wave begins to crash around me, and I buck my pelvis over Christian's face. He knows I’m about to come, and he clasps onto my thighs and applies harder pressure with his tongue on my clit, and I scream out his name as a dizzying orgasm roars through my body.
Still enjoying my orgasm, I scoot down his body to his cock, and Christian pulls me into position before ripping my panties off me. I feel him slide into me effortlessly, and I begin to ride him. My speed increases until he picks me up and flips me onto my back. Christian has reached the point where he can no longer resist, and his renewed sense of control sends a new surge of ecstasy through me. I ride wave after wave of pleasure as he pounds into me relentlessly. My arms reach above me to push against the wall, and I arch my hips up to meet his thrusts.
Christian takes the opportunity to take my breast in his mouth and as his tongue twirls around my nipple, his hands reach down and lift my ass off the bed. He doesn't stop his rhythm and instead only increases speed, his mouth now sucking furiously on my breast. I reach my leg up and Christian puts his arm underneath it, folding it back onto me so that one leg is in the air. He slides off the bed now, never leaving me, and stands on the wooden floor. One arm is holding my leg, and I can feel him kiss my ankle. He continues to ram into me and I feel myself losing all control, all sense of reason.
I begin to shake with an intense orgasm, and Christian drops my leg to place both hands on my hips, so he can slam into me as hard as he can. My vision begins to blur as I focus intently on the pleasure of our bodies. A few more hard thrusts, and I feel his cock inside me begin to throb and erupt. He pumps a few more times, a loud growl coming from deep in his chest as he comes inside of me. I feel his cock pulse over and over until he is finally spent and slides back into bed beside me. I curl into Christian, my back to him, his face resting in the crook of my neck. He kisses me gently there and I turn my face to kiss him once more. He cups my breast in his hand, and I hear him let out a long, satisfied sigh.
This honeymoon has been more than I ever could have dreamed of. Knowing Aurora is in the caring hands of her grandparents, and the nanny who traveled to help them, allows me to relax completely. I don’t have to think about anything but being with Christian. I never want this bliss to end, but I’m also looking forward to everything we have ahead of us. After our honeymoon, the three of us will spend several months in the States before heading back to Cambria. Splitting our time is the only way we both can continue our lives while still building a future together. There will come a time when we won’t have as much freedom, so we’re cherishing every bit of it now.
In my short time as Christian’s true wife, I’ve discovered all the incredible humanitarian opportunities available to me because of my new role. I can’t wait to get involved in as many as possible. We’re going to make a real difference in the lives of others. Together Christian and I are exploring ways to do more, both in Cambria, and the rest of the world.
More than anything, I look forward to living happily with him and our perfect daughter, as I cherish the love he gives me, and my new life as his princess.
THE END
A Note from the Author
Thank you for reading Accidentally Royal. We hope you enjoyed it! If so, may we ask you to please write a review? It would mean the world to us and we’d be forever grateful. Reviews are very important and allow us to keep writing!
Flip this page to read another one of our books. Included here as a special treat just for you, Exclusive: My Billionaire Protector you can’t buy anywhere.
Thank you for supporting us by reading our books and letting us continue to write for you!
R.S. Lively
Exclusive: My Billionaire Protector
Chapter One
Carter
Twenty Years Ago...
“What's up, Carter?”
I look up from my book, annoyed at being interrupted, to see Gary standing there looking at me. He's the closest thing I have to a friend, but I don't really like him all that much. He does what I say when I tell him to do it – usually without questioning me – so, he's not completely useless to me.
And, if I'm being honest, having a conversation with a geek like him from
time to time is better than pure solitude all day, every day. I can only stand the sound of my own voice for so long.
“What do you want, Gary?” I ask.
“New kid's getting his ass kicked,” Gary says, a wide grin on his face – probably just happy it's not him being picked on.
“Where?”
“Out on the field out back.”
Field is a pretty generous description for a twenty-by-twenty dirt lot that butts up against the back of the home. But, when you're an orphan, you take what you can fuckin' get.
“Who's doing the beating?” I ask.
“Luke,” he said.
I sigh and shake my head as I shut my book. I've told Luke a dozen times already that he is not to lay a finger on anybody in the home. Not without my permission. And he sure as fuck didn't have my permission to be beatin' on the newbies.
“Show me,” I say and stand up, following Gary out to the back.
Growing up in New York ain't like growing up in other places. When you grow up here, you learn pretty quick just how tough you are and what you're actually made of. New York is a place that will eat you alive if you let it. It takes a different kinda person to grow up here.
That goes double when you grow up in Hell's Kitchen, which has some of the toughest streets in all of New York. And when you're an orphan, growing up in a home in Hell's Kitchen, you have it the toughest of all. You're looked down on and treated like shit by assholes who think they're better than you.
Of course, they tend to lose that attitude after you stomp the shit outta them. Pretty damn quick, in fact.
It was that reputation I've been building for myself in my time at St. Agatha's Home for Children. Somebody you don't want to fuck with. Somebody who's lived on the streets, is tougher than nails, and will beat you within an inch of your damn life if you look at me cross-eyed.
That's why I made damn sure to make it known that I am not somebody you screw with. Not if you want to stay upright and among the living.
It's pretty much the only way to survive in a place like St. Agatha's. You let people punk you and you're gonna be somebody's bitch for a long time. Most of us are in this damn home until we turn eighteen – which means, I still have four years of this shit.
I ain't foolin' myself. I really doubt anybody's gonna come waltzing in here, decide their life is incomplete without me, and whisk me away to some grand estate somewhere in the country. This place is like the goddamn pound down the road – all of us just animals sitting in cages, waiting to be euthanized.
All these idiots who still have dreams of fairy tale endings and a loving family make me sick. It ain't gonna happen, no matter how many times you click your damn heels together and no matter how many stars you wish upon. Whenever some new kid rolls in here all full of hope and talks about how it's only a matter of time before they find a forever home, I want to slap them with a cold dose of fuckin' reality.
Course, the flip side of that is having that kinda reputation also means you're gonna be spending a lotta time alone, because people are gonna be afraid to get near you, so you better like your own goddamn company.
Good thing I have my books. I didn't need anybody as long as I have my books. In fact, it was my books that started me on this road to building the reputation I have.
I was ten when I was dropped off at St. Aggie's with nothing, but a change of clothes and a bag filled with books. My parents – if you want to call them that – got tired of having a kid around. Thought I put a real fuckin' damper on their life and wanted to party, rather than raise a family.
That was fine though. I'm better off without them. They were degenerate pieces of shit anyway. Probably still are.
Anyway, I mostly kept to myself in those early days. Always just crawled into a corner somewhere and buried myself in a book. It was on one of those days – I remember it was raining and cold outside, and I was huddled in a corner in the home's common room, reading a book – that Derrick Newman and a couple of his buddies decided to fuck with me.
Derrick had walked up and snatched the book out of my hand. When I went to grab it back, he laughed and tossed it to his buddy, who then tossed it to the other guy. Around and around the fucking game went on until I'd had enough. I pushed Derrick and told him to give me my book back.
He laughed and drove his fist into my stomach. I can still remember how bad it hurt to have all the air in my lungs blown out of me at once like that. I remember doubling over. Remember the sting of the tears in my eyes. Remember the sound of their voices when they laughed and taunted me, called me a pussy for crying.
I remember feeling this dark rage well up inside of me. And then, I snapped.
Filled with that dark rage, I launched myself at Derrick, fists and feet flying with a reckless abandon. I connected with his face and his body, driving him backward. I remember howling like a banshee as I rained down kicks and punches on him.
His buddies stood by in shocked silence as I continued kicking and punching him long after he'd gone to the ground and tried to cover up. He was sputtering and gasping, and I saw blood on his face – which only fueled my anger more and made me punch harder. I was like a bull seein' a fuckin' red cape or something.
Eventually, the nuns pulled me off him and I was put in solitary for a couple of days afterward – and then given all kinds of spiritual counseling for my anger. They completely ignored the fact that Derrick was a fuckin' bully and he deserved everything he got.
After that, he and his buddies never bothered me again. I remember how powerful I felt. People looked at me with a mixture of fear and respect. And although I'd had to beat the shit out of a few people after that – mostly newbies who walked in thinkin' their shit didn't stink – nobody threatened or bullied me again.
After that, people whispered, and some gave me a wide berth and others came to me begging for protection. I kinda liked the little position of power I'd carved out for myself. If nothing else, it got people to leave me the fuck alone for the most part.
We step out of the house and into the sweltering summer sun. Sweat beads on my brow and rolls down my back as we walk across the yard. Summer in Hell's Kitchen sucks. Rounding a corner, I see a crowd of the kids gathered in a circle and in the center, I see Luke looming over one of the new kids.
“Luke,” I call as we approach. “What the fuck are you doin', man?”
He looks up at me, his fists balled at his sides. I see a flash of fear cross his face as he takes a step back.
“I was just showin' the new kid how shit works around here, Carter,” he says. “I was –”
I stood less than a foot from Luke, my eyes boring into his. “Did you have my permission to do this?”
Despite the fact that he's a few inches taller and about thirty pounds heavier than me, he looks away, unable to meet my eyes.
“No,” he mutters.
“Then what made you think it was okay to lay your hands on this kid?”
He shakes his head. “I was just tryin' to help –”
I don't let him finish his statement because I reach back and drill him square in the face. The sound of my fist meeting his nose cracks like a gunshot, drawing a collective gasp from the kids gathered around.
Luke goes sprawling backward, landing flat on his ass with a grunt. He clutches his nose and blood squeezes out from between his fingers. His voice muffled, he wails and moans. My fist stings like a son of a bitch – Luke has a hard damn head – but, I bite it back, unwilling to show the slightest bit of weakness. My reputation is built on not showing weakness.
“The rest of you,” I turn and address the small crowd. “Get out of here. Show's over.”
The kids who'd gathered to watch the fight quickly filtered away, low mumbles all around. But nobody is going to challenge me. Luke gets to his feet and won't meet my eyes as he turns and shuffles away, his hands still over his nose.
I turn and look at the kid on the ground. He's about my age. Maybe a year older. His cheeks are flushed, his
nose bloodied, and there is a stricken look on his face. A few feet away is a little girl – maybe seven or eight years old – and the resemblance between the two is unmistakable. Her eyes are wide and shimmering with tears. She looks absolutely terrified.
“That your sister?” I ask.
The kid on the ground nods. “Yeah, that's Darby,” he says, his voice sullen.
“It's okay, Darby,” I say. “Everything's cool now.”
She says nothing. She just stares at me with those wide green eyes. Her lips tremble and the tears start to roll down her cheeks. She chokes back a sob, letting out a high-pitched squeaking sound.
I reach my hand out and pull him to his feet. “I'm Carter.”
He wipes the thin stream of blood away from his nose with his sleeve. “Mason,” he says.
“New here, right?”
Mason nods. “Yeah,” he says, his voice colored with sadness. “I'm hoping we're not here long.”
I let out a long breath. He's one of those. I open my mouth to disabuse him of his little fantasy, but see that the little girl is still staring at me. Her eyes seem to bore into me and all of the sudden, they seem like eyes that belong to an older woman. They're eyes that have seen far too much for somebody her age.
As she stares at me, I feel a pang of guilt shoot through me. The little girl – and her brother – obviously need to cling to that belief. Need to believe that somebody's going to come riding in on a white horse and rescue them from this place.
I close my mouth again without saying anything. If he wants them both to live in that little fantasy world, so be it. Who am I to burst their little fantasy bubble.
“We've got an aunt and an uncle who live Upstate,” Mason goes on. “They're going to come get us.”