Eternally Seduced: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set

by Marian Tee

  There is no lesson, no key to your billionaire’s heart, no cage to keep him yours.

  You just love him.

  One Month Later

  “How long are you going to punish me?” Constantijin demanded from the opposite side of the table, which right now wasn’t the far end. He was just seated across me, close enough for me to have my feet propped on his leg under the table. I was in no mood to have another shouted exchange. The last time we did that had us popping lozenges like ecstasy pills the next day.

  Shared laughter from his parents spilled out of the iPad screen, and Constantijin looked at them with a scowl. “And you two are really enjoying this.”

  It was the first night of our honeymoon – even though we weren’t even engaged. Both of us knew we were going there, so we thought it wouldn’t matter if we had the honeymoon first. Well, okay, it was just a private vacation. But I preferred the tone ‘honeymoon’ over Constantijin’s ‘fuck week’. I mean, really? Fuck week?

  Daria had been so happy Constantijin and I were back together that she and Nik booked us a week-long stay at the presidential suite of The Raj Palace Hotel. It had four floors, a terrace with stupendous views of Jaipur, and the most glorious pool. But the best thing about it was it even had its own freaking museum.

  The moonlight shone behind us, reflected by the ornately designed surface of the vast table Constantijin requested management to move outdoors from the dining area.

  “But you do look so adorable when someone’s forcing you to eat what you don’t want,” Marge admitted with a chuckle.

  Taking my feet off his lap, I stood up so I could bend over and feed him another spoonful of Hunt’s pork and beans – the ultimate classic example of canned food.

  “Poor baby,” I said with mock sympathy even as I fed him the last spoonful from the bowl. “See? You ate it all. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  He didn’t say anything, but his silver eyes shot enough sparks to speak volumes. Then he smiled. “Now, sweetheart, I don’t think it’s fair I'm the only one being fed. I think it’s your turn.”

  I blinked. “R-really?” That was awfully nice of him.

  “Oh, yes, starting with my cock---”

  I sent the iPad flying all the way to the pool. “Constantijin!” God, his parents were probably drowning in laughter now.

  “But I meant it.” And then he started after me, the look in his eyes causing me to scramble out of my chair. I tried to run out of his reach, but laughter slowed me down, and he easily caught up to me.

  “Constantijin!” I shrieked when he actually slung me over his shoulder and ran all the way up to the palatial bedroom that was ours for seven wonderfully long nights.

  He threw me on the bed. I flipped around, intending to escape, but I sort of froze instead when I saw Constantijin slowly stripping his clothes off.

  White unbuttoned polo, shrugged out of the way and discarded on the floor, leaving his sleek hard chest naked.

  My throat went dry.

  His khaki pants came off next, leaving him in his briefs. He was sex on legs, perfect in every way. I could only thank my lucky stars he had been a smart twenty-one year old when he refused to be Calvin Klein’s underwear model. God, if he had – I would have been sharing this – all of this – with innumerable women, and that would have been hell.

  The briefs were gone now, and seeing him stroke himself with sensual leisure made me forget all about escaping. I wanted to be his. I wanted him to feed me his cock. I wanted all of him.

  “Do you want this, Yanna?”

  I bit my lip.

  Smiling wickedly, “You know how this will go, Yanna. You have to say the words.” He gave his cock a longer, firmer stroke. “Sweetheart?”

  “Yes,” I choked out. “I want it.”

  “Then I’ll feed it to you.”

  My heartbeat sped up as he came nearer and nearer and I couldn’t stop myself from whimpering when the bed finally dipped as he rested his weight on one knee then another.

  “Ah!” A little scream escaped me as he suddenly pushed me on my back and splayed my legs wide open so he could stare at my sex up close.

  “But before I feed you---”

  I almost shot out of the bed when he exhaled, the air coming out of his mouth a caress that made me close my eyes in the exquisiteness of it.

  “I have to ready you first.”

  And then he was licking me, sucking on my clit, tongue thrusting in and out of my sex. A part of me wanted to throw him off, to give me a reprieve from the dizzyingly heated sensations that coiled around my body, electrifying every inch of it.

  But the other part of me was greedy and wanton, making me moan as I clutched his head and pushed it down. I wanted him to kiss me harder, to lick me faster, to---

  “Constantijin!” My orgasm took me by surprise as he clamped my clit between his teeth with gentle pressure.

  As my body shook with the tremors of my release, I was barely aware of his hands moving to encircle my waist. And then he had me flipped on my stomach, and Constantijin was stroking my folds. The movement was slow and gentle, but it went back further and further until I realized what he was about to do.

  “No!” With my body stiff with shock and fear, it was a greater struggle to get Constantijin off me.

  But he only chuckled, pressing me back down as he crawled over me.

  “Constantijin…”

  “This is the mouth I want to feed, Yanna.”

  My eyes flared wide at his calm admission. Did he not know---oh my God, did he---no words were enough to explain how I was so not ready for this.

  “No, I don’t think---”

  “Yanna,” he said in that soft, accented voice I found so irresistible. “Trust me in this. It will be good.”

  Trying not to hyperventilate, I forced my body to relax even as fear continued to leech blood from my face. I covered my mouth with one hand in an effort to keep myself from screaming. When I had just a bit self control, I blurted out, “I’m scared.”

  “Trust me.”

  I let him lift my hips up so he could wet his cock. My eyelids fell closed in breathless terror, mingled with excitement, as I felt him sliding his cock outside my other hole, wetting it.

  Then it was in, just one finger, and I squeezed my eyes more tightly shut, face screwing up in pain. But Constantijin didn’t stop thrusting his finger in and out in slow and steady strokes the same time his other hand went under my hips to play with my sex. He found my clit with impressive speed, alternately pinching it in rhythm with the thrusts of his finger.

  “Good?”

  “No,” I gasped out.

  He chuckled. “It will be soon, I promise.”

  Would it? But the pain was so intense that I could only gasp, trying to focus on the strokes of his fingers on my clit.

  “Yanna,” he growled.

  “Y-yes?”

  “You’re thrusting back at me already.”

  My eyes flared wide open again, and I realized it was true. My hips were moving on its own accord, my body having gradually adjusted to the strange penetrating feel of his finger on my bottom.

  “Constan---aah.” He had slid a second finger in, forcing the hole to open wider, but this time the fiery sensation was almost beautiful, something I actually welcomed. I couldn’t help moving to meet his fingers’ thrust, my own fingers curling as I gripped the sheet in response to the burning feel of his ultimate possession of my body.

  When he thrust his fingers into my sex while keeping his thumb on my clit, I knew it was only a matter of time before his cock would follow. The thought made me whimper.

  Constantijin’s weight was suddenly pressing down on me, his breath hot in my ear as he whispered, “Ready for me to feed you this way, Yanna?”

  “Yes.” I sobbed the word out in helpless fear and excitement.

  His cock slid home, and I screamed as I felt him pushing his large and rock-hard erection into that small hole, inch by inch.

  Con
stantijin panted above me, his tension almost tangible as he did his best to keep his thrusts slow and gentle. But soon I wanted more, and when I moved my hips against him insistently, Constantijin let go. He thrust in and out, his fingers in my sex matching the pounding of his cock. The double penetration had me crying out his name, over and over, until I couldn’t think. I just felt.

  “I love you,” he grated out as his cock slammed back into my body.

  I screamed again, my body feeling like it was being split apart in the most deliciously painful way.

  “Love you,” he rasped, and the words were more arousing than any touch, making my body come in the most powerful way.

  Constantijin came with me, his cock grinding deep as he poured out his come. Hot liquid filled my body in a way that was strange but familiar at the same time, and I closed my eyes, body still shuddering.

  A second after, I felt Constantijin pulling away from me. I murmured a protest.

  “I’ll be right back.” And he was. Constantijin gently and thoroughly wiped me clean with a wet hand towel. Afterwards, he lifted me up in his arms, and holding on to his neck, I watched sleepily as he took hold of one corner of the sheet. He swept it off the bed and threw it to the floor.

  “Too wet already,” he murmured wryly. Shifting me in his arms, he reached for the phone and called for housekeeping to change the bed linen.

  I was red-faced by the time he finished. “But they’ll know!”

  “Yanna. I already had a hard on when we checked in. Do you think that wasn't enough of a clue for them?” Still completely naked, he carried me to the guest room on the floor below and lowered me gently on the bed.

  I immediately rolled towards him, snuggling as close as I could when he pulled the covers over us. “I love you,” I murmured, reaching up to play with the curls of his hair. Doing so soothed me.

  “Love you.”

  The speed and the absence of hesitation in his tone made me smile.

  Constantijin asked, “Was it good?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  He chuckled. “Even with your eyes closed, I know you’re rolling them at me.”

  I giggled.

  “That good, mm?”

  I laughed outright. “God, you are so arrogant.”

  “But it was really that good.”

  Unable to help smiling widely, I lifted myself up on my elbows to look at him. It was an absolute luxury, gazing at his beautiful face, knowing that every inch of him was mine. “Yeah,” I whispered, unable to stop smiling. “It was that good.”

  Constantijin reached up to tuck my hair behind my ear. “It was unbelievably lovely for me.”

  Cocking my head to the side, I said slowly, “Constantijin? I know I’m no expert at sex like you---” I wrinkled my nose when he smirked. “But…what we just did, I can do the same to you too, right?”

  I burst into laughter at the way his eyes widened.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  He pretended to fall asleep.

  “Constantijin?” Grinning, I began to shake him, and I didn’t stop until he opened his eyes again. Pouting, I said, “Please?”

  “NO.”

  “Please?”

  “FUCK NO.”

  I threw myself on the bed, scooting to the edge and turning my back on him. “Fine. It’s so obvious you don’t really love me when you don’t want me to do---” I shrieked in laughter when he snatched me back to him and twisted me around in one move.

  “You’re getting as manipulative as I am, you little cheat.”

  I beamed. “Aren’t you proud?”

  Constantijin gave me a short, sweet, hard kiss. “So proud I think I love you even more.”

  Returning the gesture and adding a little nibble afterwards, I pulled back and said cheekily, “I love you, too, but don’t think you’re getting off the hook. Let me do that to you, too?”

  He rolled to his back, laughing, tucking his arms under his head. “We’ll see, schat. If I think you’re good enough.”

  “But I am! And on that note, what does ‘schat’ mean? I keep forgetting to look it up in the dictionary.”

  He groaned, grabbing a pillow and slamming it over his face. “To think I used to hate how quiet you were.”

  I pulled the pillow off with a grin. “Now you know better. So, what do you say? When can I do that? And you haven’t said yet what ‘schat’ means? Constantijin? Constantijin?”

  ###

  WHEN FANGIRLS LIE

  How (Not) To Be Seduced By Rockstars,

  Book 1

  Prologue

  “That’s him, isn’t it? Staffan!” Carmina Virgil was the first one to spot the limousine driving out of the underground parking lot. Thousands of women who also lined the street echoed her scream, all of them waiting to catch even just a glimpse of Staffan Aehrenthal.

  “I effing love you!” the brunette next to her yelled as the limousine inched nearer, its journey impeded by the fans doing their best to get past the human barricade that stood in their way. The hotel management had called police officers to the scene, their private security unable to handle the hysterical fans that did everything short of murder to get closer to their favorite rockstar.

  The brunette started sobbing. “Love you, oh my God, love you!”

  Carmina rolled her eyes even as she continued recording the limousine moving in front them at a snail’s space. Typical fangirl bullshit, she thought as she irritably pushed her red locks away. Why couldn’t they say it like it was? They didn’t love Staffan Aehrenthal. They just loved the idea of loving him.

  It was a good thing she had no such misconceptions. She was a fan of Staffan because he sang well, danced well, and – according to the other Gs – he fucked unbelievably well, too. Maybe if she was lucky, she’d learn about it firsthand, too.

  A wide-eyed teenage girl with glasses next to Carmina asked in a shaky yell, “Is it always like this?”

  “Like this what?” Carmina’s head started to ache. With the throng of crazy obsessed fans jostling behind them, it was a challenge to keep eye contact with the younger girl.

  The younger girl waved a hand. “Is it always this crazy?” Her voice was slightly muffled as a more aggressive wave of incoming fans tried to move past her.

  Giving up recording, Carmina slipped her phone back in her jacket’s inner pocket and yelled back, “Is this your first time going to his concert?”

  The girl nodded. Or at least Carmina thought she did since the younger girl had started to drown amidst the chaos. Taking pity, Carmina grabbed the girl’s hand, uncaring of who she elbowed in her way. She pulled the younger girl to her. “It’s bitch-eats-bitch every time with the Sex God’s concert, hon. And this? It’s nothing. You should have seen his concerts in Europe. I went to his concert in Netherlands once.” Her scalp tinged at the memory. It wasn’t a good tingle, not when she remembered a German chick pulling her back by the hair just to catch a closer glimpse of Staffan’s crotch-grabbing move.

  She said feelingly, “Freaking insanity! Half of the audience went topless in hopes that he’d pick one of them to fuck!”

  Somebody accidentally knocked the younger girl’s head from behind, and Carmina shrieked furiously, “Watch your hand!” She glanced at her companion, who was doing her best not to be swept away by the tidal wave of other aggressively adoring fans. Almost every woman in the crowd was chanting his name like they only needed to see Staffan Aehrenthal trademark smirk to have the most stupendous orgasm.

  The younger girl shrieked again, and Carmina immediately reached out to rescue her companion from the crowd. She sighed. “This isn’t the place for kids like you.”

  “I just wanted to see him in person, and I didn’t have enough money to watch his concert.” There was a faraway gaze in the younger girl’s eyes as she looked up. Carmina didn’t have to look the same way to know what made her companion lose herself in a dreamlike state.

  God.

  Or rather the Sex God.

  T
he larger-than-life tarpaulin hanging from the concert venue’s front wall showcased an obviously tall man with longish blond hair, an angel’s face and an utterly sinful look in his hazel eyes.

  His black blazer was exquisite in its cut, just like the silk shirt underneath it, almost completely unbuttoned to reveal more than an eyeful of his muscular chest. The matching trousers he wore were just as stylish, but there was nothing elegant at all about the more than noticeable bulge under his pants.

  He had been photographed leaning against the wall, hands inside his pockets, but the ordinary posture did nothing to diminish the bold and vibrant energy he emanated. Staffan Aehrenthal was a classically beautiful man, as perfect as a marble statue, but there was nothing at all elegant about the raw sexuality burning in his eyes.

  “Don’t fall in love with him, hon.”

  The teenage girl blushed.

  Carmina suppressed a sigh. “Do you know John Lennon and Yoko Ono?”

  “Umm, are they, like, a boy band?”

  Save me from Beliebers who just discovered what sexy truly meant, Carmina thought. There should really be sexier boy bands. There had to be some kind of middle ground between The Bieber and Staffan Aehrenthal, some way to prevent young girls like the one in front of her from losing their virginity to the first tattooed guy they met and resembled their favorite rockstar.

  “Umm, no. Let’s just say that John Lennon used to be a really popular rockstar and Yoko Ono was this really infatuated fan.”

  The girl gasped. “And they fell in love?”

  “Yeah, but that’s not the moral of the story.”

  “So…what is it?”

  “She became the most hated bitch on the planet.” Carmina turned back to face the street, where the limousine had only managed to move past them by several feet. “Staffan Aehrenthal isn’t something you can order for yourself. He’s like this magnificent exotic hotel buffet, something that’s only for sharing.”

  The teenage girl didn’t answer. She was too busy gazing dreamily at thirty-foot tall poster of Staffan Aehrenthal.