Accidentally Royal_An Accidental Marriage Romance

by R. S. Lively

  “Put this on me,” he says, his voice firm.

  I tear open the package and drop it to the floor, placing the condom against the tip of his cock. Squeezing him tight, I unroll it, sliding it down the length of him, the soft moan passing his lips telling me he's enjoying the sensation.

  Carter softly pushes me back down onto the couch and I spread my thighs as he climbs on top of me. He braces himself on his thick, strong arms, his face hovering above mine, the head of his cock pressing against the warm, wet center of me. My body aches to feel him inside of me, feel him driving that thick shaft into me over and over again. I lift my hips, trying to slip him into me, but he pulls himself back.

  “I need you, Carter,” I say.

  He grabs hold of my hands and pins them to the couch above my head. I struggle to break free from his grasp, but he tightens his grip, holding me tighter. My hands pinned above my head, his body pressing down on mine, I can't move. He looks at me, a slow grin tugging one corner of his mouth upward.

  I open my mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a long groan as he thrusts his hips, the void within me suddenly filled with his long, thick cock. Fully sheathed inside of me, we pause for a moment to let our bodies adjust to being with one another again after so long. I'm a small woman and Carter is easily, the largest man I've ever been with. His cock stretches me open and fills me up in ways I'm not used to.

  He kisses me hard and starts to move his hips, moving his dick inside of me. He's so large, there's a pinch of pain that blends with the rush of pleasure that jolts my body. His tempo is slow at first. Sensual. But, he quickly begins to pick up steam, driving his cock into me harder and faster.

  The sound of our bodies slapping together as well as our cries echo around the room, somehow blending seamlessly with the soft jazz that's playing in the background, creating an erotic soundtrack that fills me with desire. Carter groans low as he pounds himself into me and I call out his name, the rush of pain tinged pleasure overwhelming me.

  “Carter, God, yes, baby,” I stutter and gasp.

  I writhe and thrash beneath him, trying to break free of his grasp. I want to touch him. To feel his skin beneath my hands as he fucks me, but he holds me fast. Holds me tight. I can't move. All I can do is lay there, let him drive his cock into me. Let the waves of ecstasy wash over me.

  I feel the warmth spreading out inside of me as the pressure builds higher and higher, driving me on toward another crescendo. Carter surprises me by pulling out and standing up. He grins at me as he pulls me to my feet and turns me around. I feel his hands on my back as he forces me down, bending me over the arm of the couch. He grabs my hands and pins them behind my back. I struggle, but know there's no breaking free from his iron grip.

  I cry out as he drives his cock into my suddenly once more. I pull at his hands, but he keeps me bent over, hands behind my back, as he begins to pump himself into me hard and fast. He's groaning as he slams his hard dick into me and my body is awash in sensation.

  I hear the sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh a split second before I feel the warm sting spreading through my backside. I've never been spanked before and I wince at first. But that sharp sting of pain is soon replaced by a rush of pleasure, making every sensation rolling through me that much more vivid. That much more intense.

  “Yes, baby,” I groan. “God, yes.”

  Carter smacks my ass again, harder this time. After the initial sting, it only makes the pleasure that fills me even greater. He pounds his hard cock into me again and again, punctuating his thrusts with a sharp slap on the ass. My entire body is vibrating with sensations, my every nerve ending feeling like it's on fire.

  Pushing myself back against him, my eyes open wide as he slips even deeper into me. I hear his breath catch in his throat and a low grunt pass his lips.

  “Jesus, Darby,” he gaps. “Fuck, baby.”

  “Yes, Carter,” I say. “Fuck me, baby. Fuck me hard.”

  As if my words spurred him on, he complies, fucking me harder and harder. The feeling of his prick moving inside of me, combined with the sharp sting of his spanking sends sensations rushing through me I've never felt before. My vision is literally wavering, and my breathing is so ragged, I fear I might hyperventilate, but I don't want him to stop. I don't want these sensations he's giving me to end. Ever.

  Carter drives himself deep one last time, holding himself inside of me, as he lets out an animalistic growl. I feel his cock pulsing inside of me and a moment later, he exhales a loud breath as he blows his load into the condom. I feel him throbbing and seemingly out of nowhere, my orgasm comes crashing down over me.

  I call out his name as my body tightens up harder than I've ever felt it before, and then it lets go. Waves and waves of pleasure batter me. The sensations are so intense, it's almost overwhelming and I feel like I can't breathe for a moment.

  Our bodies still linked together, we ride out the pleasure, reveling in the warm glow that seems to surround us. Eventually, our orgasms subside and we're both left feeling spent. Carter collapses down onto the couch, laying on his back, and pulls me onto it beside him. I lay my head down on his chest, tracing circles on his taut stomach with my fingertips. He places a soft kiss on the top of my head.

  “I've missed you, Darby,” he murmurs.

  “I've missed you too,” I say softly.

  “You're mine, you know. Nobody else's,” he says dreamily, though I hear the firm conviction in his voice. “And I'm yours. We're supposed to be.”

  Slowly, the darkness of sleep creeps in at the edges of my vision. I suddenly feel exhausted. Wrung out. But, in a good way.

  It's not long before I close my eyes and let the darkness pull me under.

  ~ooo000ooo~

  My heart lurches when I wake up. I don't recognize my surroundings and a panic starts to set in. The fire in the fireplace burns low and the clock on the mantle says it's nearly three in the morning. I turn and look, seeing Carter still stretched out on the couch – still naked – his breathing deep and even.

  What have I done?

  Slipping off the couch, I quickly find my dress and slip it on. I look around for my panties, but can't seem to find them. Screw it. I don't need them. In fact, I think they're forbidden on the walk of shame I'm about to make.

  “Where are you going?”

  A lance of fear pierces my heart as I turn around and see Carter, propped up on one arm, looking at me. Even in the dying light of the fire, his eyes glitter like cold chips of diamond, yet they're still somehow warm and inviting. I don't know how he manages to pull that one off, but he does it. And they're fixed on me.

  “I uhhh... I need to get home,” I say. “I have school in the morning.”

  “Can't you take the day off?”

  I shake my head. “Not all of us have the luxury of being able to blow off the day.”

  “You're loaded,” he says wryly. “You can afford it.”

  I give him a grim chuckle. “Fine. Not all of us have the luxury of being able to blow off our responsibilities to live the life of a billionaire playboy.”

  He lets out a dramatic sigh. “I forgot that you are the faithful and dutiful servant.”

  “Somebody has to be.”

  “And I'm not a billionaire. Yet,” he says, a flirty little grin touching his mouth. “Not to mention the fact that I'm now seriously re-thinking the playboy lifestyle.”

  My heart nearly falls into my shoes hearing him speak those words. That feeling is only intensified by the look in his eye. He means it. Jesus Christ, he actually means it. What in the hell have I gotten myself into? I'd let myself get caught up in the moment with him and re-opened fucking Pandora's Box.

  “I have to go,” I say.

  “Can I see you tonight?”

  “I – uhhh – maybe,” I say, knowing full well I'm not going to see him. “I'll call you.”

  He chuckles softly. “Yeah, I've used that line before too.”

  I find my shoes and slip them on
as quickly as I can – a task that's not easy, given how hard my hands are shaking. I never heard him move, but the next thing I know, Carter is standing behind me, his body pressed to mine. I feel his warm breath on my neck and smell the musky aroma of him. It's a heady mix and one that makes me want to lay back down with him. Snuggle and cuddle together like we used to.

  But, no. I shouldn't even be here right now. And I damn sure shouldn't have slept with him. What in the hell was I thinking?

  He slowly and gently zips my dress up for me, then takes me by the shoulders and turns me around. His eyes are earnest, and the look on his face a mix of emotions. He knows I'm getting ready to walk out the door with no plans of seeing him again, but he clings to me like a man holding onto a life preserver in the middle of a storm out on the ocean. He doesn't want to let me go. He wants to hold onto this moment – and the moment we'd just shared.

  “I should go,” I say.

  “I'll have a car take you home.”

  “I can take a cab,” I say, shaking my head.

  “No, I'll call down for a car,” he says. “I won't have you taking a cab at this hour.”

  “Fine,” I reply. “Thank you.”

  He quickly makes the call and walks me to the elevator that will take me down to the garage where the car will be waiting. As the doors slide open with a soft chime, he looks into my eyes.

  “I meant it, Darby. We're supposed to be,” he says. “You're mine. I'm yours.”

  He leans down and places a soft, chaste kiss upon my lips. I don't say anything as I step into the elevator, my heart turning somersaults in my chest as I watch the doors close, shutting him out on the other side. The elevator descends, and I let out a long breath. My mind and my heart are in a fierce battle over what I should do. Over what I've done. I really have opened Pandora's Box by coming home with him, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to close it again.

  Even worse, I don't know that I want to.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Carter

  I walk through the office, clapping my hands. “Great job, everybody,” I call out. “We're having another great week thanks to your hard work.”

  Applause and cheers ring out through the office and everybody is high-fiving each other. It has been a great week, and I'm happy to see that a few of my big-ticket buys have worked out. Relieved more than happy, if I'm being honest. I was feeling daring and went out on a bit of a limb this week. But, it's all good.

  “To thank you for your hard work,” I say. “We are going to close the office early today. You are all instructed to head on down to Flannigan's for lunch. On me.”

  Everybody cheers and applauds louder, excited by the prospect of a free meal and half a day off.

  “There's also an open bar,” I go on. “Except for you, O'Shea, you damn Irish drunk. I don't know that I can afford your bar tab. Kidding. Go. Enjoy yourselves, everybody. And again, thank you for your hard work.”

  Everybody laughs, and the mood is light as they pack up their things and file out for the day.

  “You coming?”

  I hadn't even realized Rupert was standing behind me until he'd spoken.

  “Jesus man, I need to make you wear a bell or something,” I say. “And no, I have something I need to do.”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Oh? And what might that be?”

  “What, are you my keeper?”

  He shrugs. “It's part of my job.”

  “Your job description seems to just keep expanding and expanding,” I say and chuckle.

  “I am a multi-faceted kind of guy,” he says.

  “Apparently.”

  “You're going to see her, aren't you?” he asks, a mischievous smirk on his face. “Darby White?”

  I let out a long breath. “Yeah,” I admit. “I haven't heard from her in a few days. I thought it might be a good idea to go check in with her.”

  “How'd your date with her go the other night?”

  “I thought it went well,” I say, recalling that night, unable to keep the smile off my face. “I thought it went really well.”

  “And she hasn't called you in a few days?”

  I shrug. “Nope.”

  “Maybe you're losing your touch,” Rupert smirks. “Not quite the stud you think you are.”

  I laugh. “Screw you, buddy.”

  Rupert turns to me, his expression serious. “What is your end game with her here?”

  “I really don't know right now,” I say.

  “And have you talked to Pops yet?”

  I shake my head. “Not yet. But, I know I'm going to need to.”

  “Yeah you do,” he says. “Especially if Ahab finds out you're diddling his sister again.”

  “Tell me about it,” I say. “You heading down to Flannigan's?”

  He nods. “Thought I'd put in an appearance.”

  “Good,” I say. “Make sure they stay in line and don't drink me out of house and home.”

  Rupert laughs. “Please,” he says. “I plan on taking full advantage of the open bar.”

  He laughs as he walks out. I'm grinning as I step back into my office and take care of a few last minute things that need to be done. I check my watch and grimace. I need to get going if I'm going to make it on time.

  ~ooo000ooo~

  The doorway to her classroom is standing open when I get there. I can hear the voices of the kids spilling out into the hall. I motion for the man behind me to stop where he is.

  “Excuse me.”

  I look up and see an older woman hustling toward me. She's got gray hair pulled back into a severe bun, dark eyes, and an overbearing demeanor. Must be administration.

  “Good afternoon,” I say. “Carter Bishop.”

  “Evelyn Matthews,” she says. “Principal Evelyn Matthews. Mind telling me what's going on here?”

  She motions toward the man behind me with the pallet full of art supplies.

  “Well, I was given to understand that the art program here at Jefferson has come under some severe budget cuts. As a result, I've heard that basic, necessary supplies have run out,” I say. “I work with the Ravere Group –”

  “I don't care who you work with,” she snaps. “You can't just bring this in here. You don't have proper authorization.”

  “Oh, but I do,” I say.

  I slip the sheet of paper out of my inside jacket pocket and hand it over to her. It's a letter from the district superintendent. When I'd called him and told him that I wanted to privately fund the art program at Jefferson, he'd been more than thrilled.

  “As you can see,” I say. “Your boss was very enthusiastic and appreciative of my interest and contribution.”

  The woman frowns, obviously upset about not being in the loop. She obviously doesn't like not having control over every single thing in what she views as her personal little fiefdom.

  “I wasn't told about this,” she says.

  I shrug. “Then I suggest you take it up with your boss,” I say. “And, I'd also like to point out that the agreement I reached with Superintendent Gray explicitly names Darby White as administrator of the supplies I'm donating. Nothing is to be done with them without her say so.”

  “That is not how it works, Mr. Bishop,” she says, her voice carrying a hard edge to it.

  I give her a smirk. “Afraid it is. See the letter. Also, I'll send you the signed agreement for you to keep on hand, if you'd like.”

  She glowers at me, her face darkening with anger. I've only known the woman for ninety seconds and I already don't like her. I can't imagine what it would be like to have to work for her. Honestly, given the fact that she's wealthy in her own right and doesn't need to deal with irritating middle-management types like Principal Evelyn Matthews, I don't know why she does it.

  But, when I hear Darby's voice and the sound of her students laughing, I think I start to understand why. If only a little bit.

  “I have twenty pallets of supplies to start things off,” I say.

  “
Twenty – we don't have that kind of storage space,” she says. “You'll have to return them.”

  “I anticipated that,” I say. “Which is why I rented an off-site storage facility. The pallets will be kept there.”

  Matthews is fuming, which only serves to amuse me. There really is nothing wrong with what I'm doing. In fact, she should be grateful that I'm helping fund a program that helps the students in her school. Obviously, the only thing she can see though, is that somebody is treading on her little piece of turf.

  “What's going on?”

  I turn and see Darby standing there, an uncertain and somewhat scared look on her face. Matthews looks at her, giving her a scowl. I have a feeling the principal doesn't like Darby for reasons outside of what I'm doing. Maybe, it's because she's young and pretty. Maybe, it's because she doesn't have an appreciation for art. Maybe, it's because she's obviously beloved by her students. Maybe, it's a blend of all three. I don't know what it is, but the level of tension in the air between us is really exaggerated for the situation.

  “It seems that Mr. Bishop has chosen to become a benefactor for your little program,” Matthews says.

  Darby turns her eyes to me and then I see them widen when she sees the pallet behind me. A smile crosses her face and she clamps her hands over her mouth. Her eyes shimmer with tears and her cheeks flush with color.

  “Oh my, God,” she says, her voice muffled from behind her hands. “I don't even know what to say.”

  Matthews lets out a derisive snort. “I'd say he's wasting his money.”

  I round on the principal and give her a scowl. “It's my money to waste, is it not?”

  The older woman fixes me with a steely gaze and raises her chin defiantly. She's got balls, I'll give her that. She's a tough old bird and I can't help but respect it, even if I think she's repugnant as a person.

  “I suppose it is,” she sneers.

  “It's kind of sad,” I say.

  “What's sad?”

  “That you have such a sad, bleak life, that you can't see the joy art brings to the world,” I say. “That you're such a bitter old woman that you can't see the joy Ms. White here brings to her students. She's trying to bring a little happiness and beauty into this world – into this school – and you can't seem to get past trying to prove your dick is bigger than everybody else's to see or appreciate it. That's pretty sad, if you ask me.”