The Wicked Prince

by Wood, Vivian

  I reach a sudden cliff, running up one side and launching myself off. I howl my pleasure skyward. That’s what coming feels like — falling down a

  deep, dark crevasse. My lungs seizing up, my whole body shaking and clamping down. My pussy spasms, clenching his cock. A million tiny jolts of sensation overwhelm my entire system, all at once, threatening to burn me alive.

  Stellan doesn’t need to ask if I climaxed. He seems to know my body already, that all I need right now is for him to finally come. I open my eyes and keep my hips moving, trying desperately to breathe. He hammers his cock home at a blistering pace, his movements freezes as he approaches his own peak.

  “God damn,” he whispers, pumping his hips madly. He pushes me back down, his fingers tightening around my throat. Not actually choking me, just dominating me completely.

  And I love every second of it.

  I raise my chin, sliding my fingers over his and pressing down. “I’m yours, Stellan. I’m fucking yours.”

  That seems to trigger his orgasm. His eyes widen, his thrusts growing erratic. He slams his body against me, filling me with his cock. “Fuck, Margot, you’re making me come...”

  Then he roars, thrusting hard and raggedly a half dozen times. I feel him coming, feel his semen fill me in hot pulses. He closes his eyes and shudders as he comes, gasping in breaths. I can only turn my lips up to his once more.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Stellan

  When I wake up late the next morning, I find myself alone in the big bed. We fucked four times, each time a little different. The first time was about exploration, the second time I dominated her, the third time was sort of breathless and quick. And the fourth time… the fourth time lasted all fucking night into the early morning.

  Margot drained all the energy from my body and I fell asleep with her head on my chest.

  And yet here I am, waking with my cock already hard for her. There is some kind of spell she has woven around me, with her sly smiles and breathy moans. She tugs the ends close so that I’m stuck in a strait jacket of my own desire; I can’t help but want her.

  Only her.

  My chest feels tight as I get up and throw on my jeans. I pad downstairs to the kitchen, where I drink water straight from the tap and then put a pot of coffee on to brew.

  I lean against the kitchen counter, closing my eyes and thinking of the last couple of weeks. The main bright spots were times when I got to sneak away with Margot.

  Time we spent together, alone.

  It feels like that means something, but I’m unsure what. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I sigh. A delicious aroma fills the kitchen and draws a sleepy looking Margot in.

  “Hey,” she says.

  “Haj,” I greet her.

  She wears one of my dark t-shirts and presumably nothing else. That idea excites me, although I should probably at least refill my body’s energy supply before I strip that shirt off her body. Sliding her phone onto the marble countertop that stands between us, she gives me a feeble smile.

  Fuck. Now that I look at her face, she looks as though she’s been crying. Her eyes are puffy and her nose reddened. My hands curl into angry fists.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  She glances at me and shakes her head. “Nothing.”

  “That’s bullshit.” I place a mug of coffee before her, then start filling my own mug. “Tell me.”

  She wrinkles her face. “I just talked to my mom, that’s all. We argued. It has nothing to do with you.”

  I lift my mug with a frown. “I’m assuming this is the same mother who caused you to be put into the foster care system?”

  She looks up at me, startled. For a second I think she’s about to fire back a retort. I cock a brow as she stares at me with those gorgeous dark blue eyes.

  And then her face crumples. She whirls and takes off through the house, a sob escaping her as she flees.

  My eyes widen. What just happened, exactly?

  “Fuck,” I mutter, putting down my mug. I hurry around the kitchen island and go after her, calling her name. “Margot! Margot, wait…”

  Chasing her into a small room crowded with dust cloth-draped couches, I watch as she falls onto one of them and curls into a ball. The room is lit only by a window at one end. I follow her to the couch, watching as she buries her head and stifles another sob.

  Royal life prepared me for so many things, but this is just not one of them. I sit down on the couch as gingerly as I can, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. She shudders under my touch but doesn’t look at me.

  “Margot,” I say, feeling helpless. “What’s going on?”

  She inhales a shaky breath and then turns her head toward me. I frown as I take in her red-rimmed eyes and the tears on her cheeks. She studies me, sucking her pink lower lip between the whiteness of her teeth.

  God, that look of hers skewers me, sears me right through.

  “Skatter,” I murmur, reaching out to cup her tear stained face. “Talk to me.”

  She sits up, wiping at her face. When she responds, her voice is watery and tight. “I wasn’t supposed to cry in front of you. That is definitely not how I saw the weekend going.”

  I shrug lightly. “A month ago, I didn’t plan to be here with you at all. Things change.”

  Margot bites her lip, looking at me carefully. “Back there, in the kitchen? The way that you talked about my mom and my time in the foster system. You were just so casual about something that you have no way of knowing anything about. And that… that hurt.”

  My brows rise. For a moment, I am genuinely without words. I made her cry? Her tears were my doing?

  How do I even respond to that? I’m so out of my depth here and drowning quickly. She frowns a bit as she watches me.

  “I… I’m sorry,” I say, looking at her earnestly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  She nods and looks down to her lap, wiping her cheeks again. “I know,” she mumbles.

  I move closer to her, putting my arm around her. It feels a little awkward but I do it anyway. Cupping her jaw, I tilt her face up to look at me. Then I sweep my thumb across her cheek, collecting the remnants of moisture I find there.

  “I really am sorry,” I say, my eyes darting back and forth as I try to read her face. “You always mention it so casually. I just thought… I mean… I never realized that you were sensitive about your mother.”

  She gives me a watery smile. “It probably doesn’t help that I just got off the phone with her. She had the usual horrible things to say.”

  “Like what?”

  Her cheeks stain pink. “She’s been talking to several reporters about me. More like baiting them, it sounds like. She hasn’t decided which reporter she wants to spill my life story to…” Her mouth twists bitterly. “Which means, I assume, that no one has said that they will pay her as much as she thinks she deserves.” She wrinkles her nose. “My mom has always been that way.”

  “She’s going to sell your story to some paparazzo?” I ask, baffled. “Why on earth would she do that?”

  Margot sighs, shaking her head. “According to her, I still owe her big time. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant with me, she says she would’ve quote ‘been a real beauty’. Having me ruined her body I guess.”

  I squint. “What? You didn’t choose to be born. How could any of that be your fault?”

  She shrugs a shoulder. “That’s only the beginning of what mom says I owe her. My mom has a running tally of my debts that goes all the way back to when she had to buy me diapers and pacifiers.” She bites her lower lip for a second. “Don’t even get her started about how I drained her resources anytime that I lived with her. Funny, because any time I was in foster care, she railed and ranted about how the government shouldn’t interfere in our lives.”

  I glance away, struggling to keep a lid on my temper. “Your mother sounds…” I trail off, searching for the right word. I don’t want to upset Margot, but it’s clear that her mother has some menta
l issues that predate Margot’s birth.

  She sniffs, breaking my hold. Putting a few inches between us, she looks down at her hands. “Go ahead. You know you want to say it.”

  Her voice is distant. I think I almost made a very bad misstep, twice in a row.

  “She sounds hard to deal with,” I finish, touching Margot’s knee. “It sounds like you had a lot of stuff piled on top of being… financially unstable. That’s what I am hearing you say.”

  She looks up at me, sucking in a shaky breath. “Yeah. That’s just the very surface of it, honestly. The tip of the iceberg.”

  Standing, I pull her to her feet. She comes naturally into the shelter of my arms, looking up into my face. I don’t have the words to describe how it feels, just holding her like this. “I want you to tell me more. You say I don’t know about it. So I want you to tell me. But… not in here. This room is weird and creepy.”

  Margot pushes up on her tiptoes and cups my jaw, then kisses me lightly on the lips. My heart thuds painfully against my ribs; I’m relieved at the fact that I finally did something right, but it’s more than that.

  Her scent is in my nose. Her warmth seems to invade me, my whole being. My fingers curl around her waist, digging into her skin. What is this feeling?

  Possession. That’s it. This is the first time I’ve really ever felt like she was mine. And for the life of me, I can’t see how I’m just going to let her go. Not yet.

  She lets me go and steps back, turning around and leaving. I trail after her, trying to get a firm hold on what I’m feeling. But of course, she doesn’t give me the chance.

  She walks into the kitchen, bites her lower lip, and gives me a once over. “You don’t really want to hear about my background, do you?”

  I stop a few inches away from her, looking at her sweetly curved face. “I meant what I said.”

  Margot wrinkles her nose and presses up on her tiptoes to kiss me. Then she takes a seat at the kitchen bar and inhales slowly. “Okay.” She grabs her mug of coffee, running a finger around the rim. “I was born in Brooklyn. Which sounds like it was hip and funky… but it wasn’t. My mom was a stripper for most of my childhood, and that job… well, I don’t know if it led her to drugs or if drugs led to her stripping. Either way, my mom was too busy living her life to give me much thought.”

  She smiles sadly at her coffee mug. “Yeah. It’s always been just my mom and me, no dad in the picture. As soon as I was out of diapers, she stopped paying for a babysitter. She just left me for days on end. So I found ways to keep myself busy… like the story I told you about discovering my passion for journalism at the library.” She sucks in a deep breath. “But there were other things that I did, too. Bad things. I ran with a really awful crowd for a while.”

  My eyebrows lift. “I was wondering where you got your sense of style.”

  She looks up at me, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess I always idolized the punks of the 1980s. They just seemed so cool. Like they were living their grubby little lives out loud and not shutting up about how miserable and downtrodden they were.” She makes a face. “Plus their music was just noisy and riotous and fun to dance to.”

  “No disagreement here.” I slide my mug of coffee across the counter, taking a sip. It’s tepid, but it’s still coffee. “So… your mother didn’t always take care of you.”

  “She did what she could do, I guess.” Margot shrugs a shoulder. “I was in and out of foster care, usually in group homes. I did really well in school, but I was an outcast for sure. Nobody wanted to be friend with the weird kid who wore the same clothes all the time and never brought any cake on their birthday.”

  I nod. “Yeah, children can be cruel-hearted.”

  She sighs. “Yeah. Luckily, I got myself into NYU. And that’s where I met Pippa.” She drums her fingers against the counter. “That was a huge turning point for me. She was also into journalism and she sort of opened a doorway to that world.”

  Tilting my head, I try to imagine Pippa and Margot back then. Margot looks at my expression and laughs.

  “What?” she asks.

  “Nothing. I’m just trying to imagine a world without this rebellious, punk rock-loving version of you in it.” I shake my head. “I think I’m glad that you are you.”

  Her lips curve upward and she rolls her eyes a little. “Thanks, I guess.”

  Standing up, I drag her chair towards me. Then I bend down and kiss her. Margot turns her head up, digging her fingers into the short hair at the back of my head.

  When I pull back, I lean my forehead against hers. I whisper lulling words to Margot. “Thank you for opening up to me.”

  Her smile turns into a slow grin. “Of course.” She twists and pushes the chair she is sitting on away and leans her small frame against mine, hips touching hips, her breasts against the hardness of my chest. “Take me to bed, Stellan.”

  I’ve never wanted anything more. I sweep her up in my arms and carry her toward the bedroom, my lips on her lips, my heart beating in time with hers.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Stellan

  I rise early, the habit ingrained from my time in the military. After I shower and dress myself, Margot is still soundly asleep. I sit down on the bed beside her, looking down at her. Some women I’ve spent the night with have been like sleeping beauty in their slumber; placid and peaceful, unresisting and serene.

  Margot isn’t like that. She hugs a pillow to her bare chest, a tiny pucker of emotion creasing her brow, her mouth set in the echo of a frown. Her cotton candy curls spill backwards from her head like a dash of ink spilled in water. Her hands are tight little fists, looking like she’s ready to fight.

  And yet, I still find her incredibly beautiful. Not despite.

  Because she is rebellious to her very core. Even in sleep, she doesn’t lose her edge.

  But the best thing is when I lean over, dropping a kiss to her bare shoulder. She stirs, opening her sapphire eyes a crack. And then she smiles at me. Big and bright, sleepy but all the more meaningful for it.

  “Hey,” she rasps.

  One corner of my mouth lifts. “Haj.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Were you watching me sleep?”

  I shrug a shoulder. “Just for a second. I was actually coming to wake you up.”

  She sits up, stretching and yawning. “What for?”

  “A surprise. Come on.” I stand up. “And wear a bathing suit. There should be a bunch in the closet. We’re going somewhere that I want you to see.”

  She makes a face at me but gets out of bed. An hour later, she joins me in the kitchen. I’m leaning against the island, sipping my coffee.

  One look at her makes me do a double take and choke on my coffee just a bit. She’s wearing nothing but a tiny black bikini under a filmy white robe. And her Converse, as per the usual.

  I bite my lip. “You look...” I search for the right word. “Edible. Maybe we shouldn’t even leave the house.”

  That earns me a scornful sound from her lips.

  “This bathing suit is scandalous,” she complains, indicating her outfit. “There were so many of them hanging in the closet, but this is the only one that was my size.”

  I give her a smirk. “You are just lucky that we carry sizes suitable for tiny people. You are elf-sized.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Are we going out to the beach or what?”

  “We are. Here, I made you a coffee to go.”

  Her eyes widen with glee as she accepts the mug. “You’re really getting to the core of who I am as a person,” she jokes. “Coffee first, then literally everything else.”

  The beach is only a short walk from the house. As soon as we step outside into the salty air, I take a huge breath. The sun beams down on us as we stroll to the beach. I came out here earlier and set things up, so my footprints are already in the sand.

  Margot makes a silly face as she steps in one of my footprints. “A giant has already been here, apparently.”

  That makes
me grin. “He’s giant all over, if you know what I mean.” I lean close to stage whisper. “I’m saying that I have a huge cock.”

  That makes her cackle. “Yes, I’m aware. It’s not for nothing that I’m walking a little stiff-legged today.”

  Pure male satisfaction fills me. “If you’re lucky, I’ll show it to you again later.”

  She shakes her head at me but she can’t stop grinning. “Shut up.”

  We walk down to the pebble-strewn shore, sand clinging to our feet. I’ve left two paddle boards there, their matching paddles sticking up out of the sand.

  “What is this?” Margot asks, pulling her hair back into a bun.

  “Paddle boarding.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her. “I’ve done it before. I’m practiced, you could say. So I’ll mostly just be here to watch you fail at it.” I arch my brows. “It should be a good diversion.”

  She squints at me, then turns her gaze out to the green-blue sea. “Twenty dollars says I’ll be good at it by the time we finish.” She pauses. “No, wait. Money doesn’t matter to you. How about you pose for my camera tomorrow if I can get good today. And if I don’t…”

  I grin wickedly. “If you don’t, I get to put my cock anywhere I want tonight.”

  Her brows fly up and she turns red as a beet. “You want to do anal?”

  “Ja. Of course. I have just been waiting until the moment is right.”

  Her eyes tighten a little. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Because I’m going to win.”

  I rub my hands together and lick my lower lip. “I really hope you lose, skatter.”

  She flushes and looks down at the paddle boards. “You’re going to get your ass kicked. Let’s go.”

  I hold up my hands. “Slow down. First I need to know if you’ve ever surfed.”

  Margot’s brows knit. “I’m from the city. And even though the water is right by us, it’s safe to say that I have never surfed anywhere.”

  “Okay. Starting from the end of the board, yeah?” I point to the end of one of the surf boards. “You grab the sides, and then move onto your stomach. Then you lift yourself upward…”