Royally Bad (Bad Boy Royals #1)

by Nora Flite

  “Everyone, get into position!” I said excitedly.

  Bending low, Kain said into my ear, “You were in position, I was just about to start teasing that perfect pussy of yours.”

  Fire poured into my veins. “I’m about to perform a wedding, give me some breathing room.”

  “I don’t know, this feels a lot like how her wedding began before.” He cupped my hip, chuckling against my ear.

  My eyes fluttered, and if I hadn’t heard Fran swishing along the grass toward us, I might have given in to Kain. Groaning, I stepped away. “Just stand over there, please.”

  In a long, red skirt and a floral, too-tight top, the would-be bride finished her trip across the grass toward us. “I got your text earlier. Why did you need me?” Fran asked, climbing the steps into the gazebo. It took her a second, but her eyes trained up, taking in the soft lighting and fresh flowers we’d arranged. “What the hell is all of this?”

  On cue, Matilda pressed the CD player button from where she was ducked behind the gazebo. Gentle, sweet violins began to play. Still Fran blinked, turning from me to Kain, then back again.

  Hawthorne wandered into view, standing back enough to watch everything. It wasn’t until Midas cleared his throat, climbing the stairs behind her, that what we were doing registered with her. “Midas?” she gasped, spinning to gawk at me. “Sammy, did you . . . ?”

  Folding my hands in front of me, I lifted my voice. “Ahem. Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here tonight—”

  “Oh! Em! Gee!” she squealed.

  “To celebrate the uniting of Francesca Badd and Midas . . .” Shit. I didn’t remember his last name!

  “Tengelico,” Kain whispered at me.

  “Midas Tengelico,” I said, giving the couple an apologetic look. Behind me in the darkness, I heard Matilda giggle. “Did you two write any vows?”

  Midas nodded, facing Fran. “Frannie,” he said, “I knew the day that I met you that we’d be perfect together. Everything I do, I want to do it with you. You’re perfect . . . you’re my light, my world. I love you so much.”

  Her eyes welled with tears. Inhaling deeply, she gathered herself. “Midas,” she began, “I wrote a whole bunch of stuff down. I don’t have that, so I’ll just say this: I love you, too. I love your eyes, your smile, how you always let me try your food when we go out to eat.” Beaming, she dabbed at her eyes. “Oh. And if you ever, ever sleep with one of my friends, I’ll cut your balls off.”

  I covered my mouth hastily.

  Kain didn’t look surprised at all. I guessed he was used to his sister’s relationship, and Midas must have been, too, because he hadn’t even flinched.

  Love could be fucking weird.

  “Uh, please join hands,” I said. They did, their fingers linking. “If no one objects, then by the power vested in me by the state, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” I prepared to speak the final words—the whole you-may-kiss-the-bride-thing.

  Francesca never let me.

  She threw her arms around Midas, dragging him to the ground with a kiss too passionate to handle while standing.

  I jumped back, my hands held up like I was being arrested. Wide-eyed, I looked at Kain; he was busy bending at the middle and laughing. It was contagious, that big grin of his. With the pair making out in the middle of the gazebo to the sound of violins, I couldn’t hold myself together.

  My dad had taught me that when things get hard or ugly, that was when you needed to laugh the most.

  So I did.

  Wiping my eyes, I looked out over the gardens. It was then that I saw them—three figures looking on like statues meant to stand forever. Fran’s parents were hugging, Costello hovering by their elbows.

  Each of them was smiling.

  - CHAPTER NINETEEN -

  KAIN

  “I want to talk about Sammy,” I said.

  My father lifted his head from the tablet he’d been scrolling through. Wearing thin-framed glasses, he almost looked like a nice grandfather instead of a dangerous beast.

  Putting it aside, he folded his hands. “Talk.”

  “I want her out of that room. I want Costello and Thorne to stop guarding her.”

  His forehead strained under his heavy eyebrows. “And why should I do that?”

  I’d thought this over for a while. It had been over three weeks since Sammy had been locked away. Far too long, by any standard—but especially my own. I knew my father, he was stubborn and didn’t like being challenged. But he also appreciated someone who could admit their mistakes. While I didn’t agree one bit that taking Sammy to see her mother was a mistake . . .

  He certainly did.

  Lifting my jaw, I said, “Because this time, I’ll watch her every move. She won’t leave the estate until you think it’s safe to do so. I promise that.”

  Tapping his chin, he puffed out some air. “Done.”

  My mouth fell open. I’d been prepping for a much harder fight. “You’re really agreeing to this?”

  “Did you want me to argue?”

  “I expected you to,” I said gravely.

  Chuckling, he slid deeper into his chair. “I’ve got other things to worry about.” Without prompting, he went on. “I’m starting to think that Brick wanted Sammy specifically. That he wasn’t after our family at all.”

  My father’s words turned my blood cold. “But why? She’s got no history with him.” He didn’t blink, he just kept watching me thoughtfully. “Dad. She doesn’t know him. She couldn’t.”

  “Maybe. And maybe not.”

  “That’s fucking cryptic as hell,” I said. “If you learned something about her, tell me.”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he said, “Sammy might have a more solid relationship with the Deep Shots than I initially assumed. I’ve got people looking into it. We’ll know soon.”

  What he was saying was impossible. The Deep Shots were a gang, they were all about guns and gambling. Sammy made wedding dresses and liked vanilla ice cream. Her deepest secret was her boring story about drunkenly registering online to marry people.

  He was wrong about her. He’d learn that for certain soon enough.

  I considered my words. “I guess it’s a waiting game again.”

  “It always is.” He sounded resigned, pushing himself out of his chair with a labored grunt. “Just keep that girl here.” His finger stabbed into my collarbone. “Brick will slip up eventually, and if not, my informants will reveal the truth—whatever it is. Then we can decide what to do.”

  His informants. I had a suspicion he was putting every one of the Badd Maids to work overtime to figure this mystery out.

  There IS no mystery, I reminded myself firmly. But what if I was wrong? This was ballooning in a way I hadn’t expected.

  I’d only just started to understand who Sammy was to me.

  Who the hell was she to everyone else?

  Swimming in a sea of disconnection, I struggled for the shore. Everything he said, it made no sense. Sammy Sage was no one. Well, to me she was someone, but to this gang, she had no connection.

  I was sure of it.

  He started to move past me. “I’m going to call around some more, see what I can dig up. We’ll consult on this later.” Pausing, Maverick gripped my upper arms. “You know I meant well when I put her down there, right?”

  Sourness bubbled in my stomach. But the longer I looked into his hard face, the more I sensed the desperation behind his question. People often said we had the same eyes. I saw them imploring me, and fuck it, I thought about the way I’d implored Sammy to understand me.

  I didn’t agree with his decisions . . .

  But I knew the need to be understood.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  He gripped me harder, then he released me with a gentle shoulder pat. “Good man. Go get her, bring her upstairs. It’s time.”

  It was the first thing he’d said that I definitely agreed with.

  Costello was blocking the door to her chambers. His ey
es came up, focusing on me the closer I got. “At ease,” I teased him. “I’m going in, and you can go upstairs and eat.”

  His lips stretched out in a thin line. “Is this a trick? I’m still amazed you talked Thorne into letting her out that one time.”

  In spite of his doubt, he unlocked the door and opened it for me. “It’s not a trick,” I said. Tapping the door hinges, I alerted Sammy that I was there. “Dad says she’s free to leave this room now.”

  Costello’s icy eyes froze over. “You’re definitely lying.”

  “I’m not. Ask him yourself.” We were close enough that I sensed my brother tensing up. My veins flickered; I didn’t want another fight, the guy was a fucking animal when he had to be. But if I had to tear through him to get to Sammy . . .

  “Hey!” she chirped, ruining the intensity. Waving, she crossed around the big, round bed and came to meet me. She was wearing a pair of long, white pants and a matching top that flowed with her movements.

  Sweeping her into my arms, I kissed her throat and thrilled with her shock. Even like this, her body yielded to me; she breathed out sharply, her nails clinging to my shoulders.

  Dipping her farther, I crept my hand to the small of her back, licking her lower lip. The heat in her eyes mirrored mine. “I’ve got good news,” I mumbled.

  Swallowing, she looked past me to where Costello was guarding the open door.

  Following her eyes, I asked, “Are you going to stand there and watch us screw like some kind of perv?” Nipping Sammy’s ear, I made her whimper. “Because I’ll fuck her, regardless of if you’re watching or not. Nothing is going to stop me.”

  Wordlessly he closed the door, leaving us alone.

  Spinning her in a circle, I scooped her up just to drop her on the bed. She bounced once, shaking off some of her dizzying passion so she could talk. “The good news better not be that you’re about to fuck me. And for the record, I wouldn’t let you do it with an audience.”

  Climbing on top of her, I snatched her wrists and pushed them into the mattress. “No?” I asked, smirking. “I think you’d let me do anything if I got you hot enough.”

  Her glare wavered. “Let’s not find out.”

  Laughing, I rubbed my nose on her collarbone, speaking into her chest. I heard my voice bounce inside of her ribs. “Maverick says you’re free to leave this room.”

  “He’s not joking?” she asked. “He really means it, no catch?”

  “The catch is that I have to watch you.” Taking her chin, I leaned into her with a grin. “Closely.”

  Her smile went ear to ear. “Gross. I’ll stay locked up, thanks.”

  Laughing, I wrapped her hair in my fist. She copied me, tugging at my nape so that my senses burned from the mild pain and pressure. When we kissed like that, the world vanished so easily. I felt lighter knowing the weight of her situation was gone. I needed to channel this energy somewhere, and Sammy gave me the perfect solution.

  In seconds I tugged my shirt away; her eyes flashed, then she hurried to mimic me. I would have gone slower, but I worried that if I waited, I wouldn’t be able to control this fucking urge. I was along for the ride; one misstep and it’d take over and leave me blind with lust.

  Our bare skin connected, our lips locking into their familiar seal. Her knees circled me, clutching to keep us pressed together. My hot, hard cock was sandwiched on her navel. Her lips whispered useless vowels by my ear, my brain thumping as I worked to keep up with my insane arousal.

  Her hand came between us, perfectly accurate as she guided me inside of her. It was smooth; as thick as I was, she was slippery down to the crevice of her ass with how badly she ached for me.

  I pushed her legs off of my back, shoving them under me in a straight line. “Point your toes,” I demanded. “Squeeze them together hard as you fucking can.”

  She couldn’t deny me. Sammy was too cloudy with lust to even wonder what I was thinking. She had the presence of mind to ask, “Why?”

  When my hands cradled her lower back, forcing her to arch into me so that my pelvis ground on hers, rubbing her swollen clit with every subtle movement of my body, she understood.

  Friction built between us. Desperately, Sammy thrust against my hard muscles, her nails buried in my shoulder blades. I guided her from above and below, creating a pace that was going to leave us both frantic.

  “Kain,” she whimpered in my ear.

  “Call me your king,” I growled. I wasn’t a king, I might never be, but I loved the feeling of being worshiped. It went both ways. I was eager to lavish attention on her body, to make her shake with pleasure.

  Someday . . . she could be mine. Sammy could be an actual princess.

  My Cinderella, for real.

  The idea sent a spark of raw energy into my core. My cock thrilled each time I buried it deep inside of her. Every thrust took more of me, stole more of her. I fucked her like I’d never touch her again.

  Crying out, she was pinned under me—right on the edge of orgasm. “Don’t stop,” she begged me.

  My insides flipped, lightning that forked and came around again. “I said to call me your king. I’ll let you come when you do.”

  “Let me fucking come, King Asshole!” she groaned.

  Nipping her earlobe, I slid out until just the ridge of my cock head was in her. She tried to reach me; my hands gripped her ass, keeping her trapped. She couldn’t get more of me in her pussy, but she also couldn’t escape the sensation of my swollen tip.

  “Say it.”

  Kissing my throat, she gripped my ass and squeezed; it made my cock jump. “You’re my king! Let me fucking come!”

  I sensed the edge of her humor, but I was too far gone to care. Trusting that she wouldn’t get pregnant, I pumped back into her. Panting, I braced my body on hers. My palms massaged her perfect ass, slamming her with my full length.

  She strangled my shaft, thrumming through her tensed thigh muscles as she came. “You’re my king,” she whispered across my damp shoulder. Closing my eyes, I took two more strokes before I finished.

  Sammy was still fluttering with aftershocks, the sensation glorious.

  I wanted to lie in the sheets, I really did. This pocket was ours, even if it led to nowhere. Outside is freedom. She’s finally been granted it. How insane to smile over being given back your basic rights.

  Her stomach grumbled—her laugh following right after. “Come on,” she said, sitting up. “Brunch sounds amazing right now.”

  Resisting my desire to yank her into the shower and take her again, I let her clean up in peace. When we were changed into our clothes, I walked to the door. Sammy’s hand on my elbow froze me.

  “Let me,” she said. Her fingers clutched the handle, testing it like she doubted it would open. When it did, her lips jerked at the corners. “It’s really not locked.”

  It would have been awful if Costello hadn’t left it unlocked for us.

  Together, we exited that room. I wondered what Sammy was thinking. Yes, we’d done this before, but that had been a temporary ruse.

  This was . . . real.

  Everyone was gathered in the bright, granite kitchen. My mother was shoveling eggs onto a plate for Hawthorne. She spotted me, not noticing Sammy with my body blocking the way. “Kain! Could you take any longer? There’s hardly anything left.”

  Piles and piles of food on the counter disagreed.

  Swinging her way, I gave my mother an emphatic kiss on her cheek. “You’d make more if I asked.”

  “Tch.” She swatted me away, but her pretend offense didn’t disguise her pleased smile. My mother was no pushover, but her heart was dedicated to her children. Even with enough servants on our estate to handle meals, she still loved helping with brunch.

  The light in her eyes stilled; she’d spotted Sammy.

  For a moment, the chatter and energy slowed to a halt. Everyone was either staring at the girl beside me or at my father where he was slumped comfortably at the kitchen table. Hawthorne twirled a bisc
uit between his fingers, eyeballing me with the unspoken question of, “What the fuck is she doing out of her cage?”

  Ignoring all of them, I wrapped my arm around Sammy’s waist and nudged her toward the food. “Go on, grab something.”

  Clearing her throat too loudly, she started stacking a plate high with bacon and tiny quiches. “Wow! This sure does look great! Doesn’t it?” Her eyes snapped to Costello; he said nothing, her grin went tighter. “Ha-ha. So good you can’t even speak, I get it.”

  Realizing that nothing was going to remove the discomfort besides an answer, I looked pointedly at Maverick. “He said it’s fine. Everyone stop gawking already.”

  At once, the air shifted. My mother placed a new pitcher of orange juice on the table. Francesca was grinning, her hands clapping softly at her chest. No one wanted to call my father out for the insane move he’d pulled, but we were all thinking how good it was for it to be over with.

  How could any of us sleep well knowing we had a prisoner in our home?

  Sammy sat down next to Francesca, reaching for the carafe of coffee. Frannie gave her a small shove, then another, until finally Sammy laughed. “Okay, yes, I noticed you. Hi there.”

  “Gawd, I’m just happy to see you up here eating with us!” Grasping her in a quick hug, my twin bent in, whispering into Sammy’s ear. They both laughed, and when Sammy looked my way, her green eyes lit up like jewels.

  Passing Costello, I gave him a gentle shove. His half smile was as good as a toothy grin for the serious man. Dropping beside Sammy, I leaned close to kiss her on the cheek. Hawthorne pointed his fork. “None of that while I’m eating.”

  I ignored him, too busy enjoying how red Sammy was getting.

  Let everyone roll their eyes at me, I thought, my cock still half-hard from fucking Sammy minutes ago. I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks.

  Everything was as close to perfect as it could possibly get.

  Juice spilled over the table, soaking the patterned cloth.

  “Frannie!” My mother gasped, mopping at it in a panic. “Be careful! This will stain and you know how hard it is to . . .” She trailed off, her eyes moving to where my sister’s were.