by Mia Madison
“I don't want to, he’s so arrogant and I guess it must be odd that he went to school with you.”
“Oh. Give the guy a chance for a few days maybe.”
“You think I should?”
“Just tell him you’re a virgin.”
“What? Why?”
“That will stop him getting fresh with you.”
“Daddy no one says getting fresh any more. That won’t stop him.”
Will it?
My father must really need this cash.
“It will. You know how royalty value virginity. He wouldn't dare despoil you.”
“Dad, no one says despoil any more. Come on.”
I only just close the door on bundling my father back to his room before Lucy shows up. The door opens and he walks into my room then turns and walks out again.
I want to run after him and beg him please not to go. My heart is still fluttering from seeing him again and he looks amazing the brief glimpse I had. Surely he didn't hear the talk with my father.
Then there’s a knock at the door and he opens it again when I call out.
“Sorry.” He tosses me a dazzling smile. “I’m not used to knocking on doors.”
“It could get boring when you have so many rooms,” I concede, smiling shyly.
“You look beautiful,” he says and I think he means it.
There’s no sarcasm in his voice and his gaze is beyond appreciative. A slew of goosebumps slide down my arms and the fluttering in my heart turns painful. “I love simple pure beauty.”
I thought he had a bigger love affair with slutty nudity but I don't say anything. I don’t want him to think I’m uptight.
“I would have brought flowers but I thought this might be better.”
He hands me a box and when I open it there’s a round diamond hanging on a gold chain. Did I mention it was a larger diamond than I’ve ever been this close too. Bigger than anything daddy ever gave my mom when they were together. She might have stuck around if he’d brought home gifts like these. She’s that kind of woman.
“It’s gorgeous,” I whisper, stroking one finger pad over it. “But I can’t accept it,”.
“You must,” he says, with full command in his tone.
He lifts it from its velvet bed and drapes it around my neck. When he moves behind me to fasten the chain my heart thumps so hard I can’t believe he doesn't hear the drumming. Then he lifts my hair and his fingertips grazing across the skin at the back of my neck make me tremble down every limb.
He doesn't move, completely motionless and the air slides out of the room. I can feel the heat pouring from his body. Without my permission, my head tips slightly to one side, hoping, praying that he leans forward and presses his lips into my skin. We’re frozen in a moment, time telescoping, not daring to inhale.
Then I lurch with disappointment when he fastens the closing and lifts my hair back around my shoulder to hang down my back. He takes my arms to turn me around to face him and I’m certain he feels me trembling.
“Beautiful.” he says again although it must be the diamond he’s referring to.
His eyes travel up to my parted lips and again I’m sure he’s about to kiss me. I’m leaning so far forward on the tips of my toes it feels like I’m craning to his lips. I can’t take it any more. I need his mouth on me. I reach for his chin to drag it down to me and he catches my hand.
“Let’s go,” he says. Another command.
Lucien leads me by the hand down the wide staircase and along the endless passage, out to where a low sportscar is waiting with two footmen to open the door for us.
“I’ve got it,” he tells the one at my side.
He steps in to settle me into the low seat, waiting to close the door. Then he strides powerfully around to his side where the two footmen practically fall over each other to get the door.
“Aren’t you going to say anything about me being a cliché?” he asks once the door is closed and we take off down the gravel drive.
“I’d expect nothing less from a playboy prince,” I reply.
“Reformed playboy prince since I got engaged to the most perfect girl in the world.”
My heart skips a painful beat. I can’t be wishing that were true.
Can I?
No.
He’s too old, he’s too arrogant and he’s royalty.
“Isn’t that going to be boring for you playing this game?” I ask. “You’ll miss your exciting prince life.”
“Trust me there is nothing more boring on this planet than being a Royal.”
We arrive at a restaurant perched high on a cliff. The view across the water to the mainland is amazing and in the other direction a perfect sunset.
“Cliché?” he asks
“It’s lovely,” I whisper.
People are looking and whispering and the less cool ones are surreptitiously lifting their phones in our direction until suited men tell them not to.
It’s slightly disconcerting and I wish I had way better clothes on. I’m even wearing a knock off pair of Louboutins that will be ripped apart if our picture makes it into any of the New York fashion blogs.
Waiters unfurl huge white napkins and pour champagne and Prince Lucien orders for us both in French.
“So this must be very square and boring evening for you,” I say. “I can’t believe your royal life is more boring than a dinner date.”
It’s anything but for me. I’m really enjoying myself in a way I never have.
“Nothing to do all day but shake hands and observe protocol,” he says.
“Hanging out with adoring women,” I continue.
“Having ugly princesses thrown at you by diplomats as marriage material. I wouldn’t even be able to get it up for most of those uptight women, and I can always get it up on command. And perhaps the worst – living at home and being ordered around by Daddy at nearly forty years old.”
Chapter TEN
Lucien
When we leave the restaurant, the usual crowd of paparazzi have gathered after being tipped off. Kennedy startles as we walk through the door held open by the manager and an array of light bulbs pop in her eyes. She stumbles a little bit and falls against my chest. Her small hand coming up to steady herself on my lapel.
I catch her and pull her into the crook of my arm. Again a bolt hits me at how much I love having her leaning into me.
“That’s gorgeous. Over here,” various rough male voices shout in French, English, even some German.
“Are you okay?” I murmur, looking down at her perfect face and dying to kiss her lips.
When I took her hand across the table in the restaurant she didn’t resist. It’s all part of the game after all. So there was no sensation on her side I guess. Whereas for me, just that small connection of skin was like electrical shocks running through me.
“Kiss her,” the paparazzi are screaming like a herd of cattle heading for the slaughterhouse.
That’s their money shot. No one has ever gotten a photo of me kissing a woman. Or a man either – there were some column inches devoted to the conjecture that I must be gay and the royal line would die out after me.
Even that wasn't enough to manipulate me into kissing a girl in public although my father ordered me to prove the rumor mill wrong. He threatened to cut off my royal purse, then even the royal scepter. Nothing worked.
“Fuck them,” I told him. “I won’t be bullied and used.”
Tonight is different.
Suddenly I want the entire world to see me with Kennedy and know that a virginal young princess now belongs to me.
Supported in the solid curve of my arm, Kennedy leans against me and smiles for the cameras. I can tell instantly that they love her. Those rough bearded guys that spend their lives stalking celebrities and hiding behind garbage cans. I on the other hand don’t have a good relationship with them since they ran a royal friend of mine off the road in Paris. That was twenty years ago now, when Kennedy was too young to be affected.
I let her take the limelight as the flashes continue to blind us. She looks up at me laughing and lifts one foot off the ground behind her like something out of an old movie.
“Kiss her,” the roar goes up again.
I hate them so much I will never give them what they want.
I’ve had enough. I scoop her into my arm and lead her to the waiting car. I almost snarl at the photographers that they had better not chase us down the winding hill road. The passenger door is opened for Kennedy to climb in and I take hold of it, planning on being the one to close her safely inside.
She looks up at me again, smiling happily with a sparkling smile. My hands on the other side of the door, holding the handle she reaches up to cup my now stubbled chin in her little hands. Before I think of it, or plan, or obsess, I simply tip my head down and kiss her.
Her lips crush hungrily into mine and the flash bulbs go wild. I shut my eyes against them and let go. Scooping her up hard into me, her bare breasts under that virginal white shift crush into the curve of my hard pec.
I release her. I have to release her before I ravage her.
“That’s enough exhibitionism for one evening,” I whisper against her ear, that gathers another round of a thousand shots fired.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she says as I close her in. “The night is young.”
Then I’m inside the vehicle and we’re pulling away. I drive fast. I always do especially when I’m riled. I can’t work out what’s aggravating me more, those bastards back there or the little Princess beside me. I’d do anything to be a normal man for just one day and be able to pull over to the side of the road and pull her over on top of me.
She says nothing about my driving. I’m a fucking good driver but then what man doesn’t think that about his prowess at the wheel? Or anywhere? She reaches over and her fingertips curl lightly around my thigh. The rest of it has all been for the cameras but we’re alone now. What is she doing other than trying to keep me calm?
Which only happens once the high gates close behind us.
I stop the car at the door and leave it for the valet. I lift her up from the low car and my hand goes on her back to guide her inside. There are servants everywhere, waiting to see if we need anything before we retire. Shit, if only we weren't surrounded, the things I could do to her sexy sweet body.
“So did you?” she asks when we get to the top of the stairs?
“Did I what?”
“Imagine my breasts naked all through dinner?’
My cock unfurls at that and her direct playfulness. She’s nowhere near as prudish as I first assumed. Her eyes are filled with a fucking ton of invitation. Which is all wrong. Because she’s nothing like the rest of her family. She’s young and good and I can’t use her so totally like that. But I can still be bad.
“Yes.” I tell her with a grin
“And how were they?” she whispers, looking back to see if anyone could be close enough to hear.
“Amazing,” I grit out.
My hand on her waist is powerful enough to yank her to me, to cover her mouth with a real kiss this time. Although the last one felt pretty real to me, it had to be my imagination running wild. My blue balls playing havoc with my brain matter. Because this girl cannot be for me.
“Amazing enough to want to see the rest?” she murmurs against my mouth.
“Baby,” I moan, wishing she’d stop teasing now.
It’s unbearable. It’s driving me insane.
We can’t.
“Don’t you want me?” she rasps low into my lips, sending my dick into a frenzy.
“Baby, you have no idea how much I want you.”
Suddenly we’re a tangle of hands and mouths. She claws at my shoulders, my biceps, like she’s frantically searching for something. I think I know what it is. My mouth drags hers deeper into me, wanting to suck her in as deep as I can take her. My tongue winds around hers in a battle of need that she cannot win but gives a good fight.
I pick her up, my hands cupping her ass that must still be stinging from this afternoon and I carry her down the hallway to my suite. She climbs up my body, arching her back to sit upright on my palms as she wraps her legs around my waist. Her mouth takes mine, her tongue licking at me hungrily.
I cup her perfect mounds in my palms, savoring how the bare flesh compresses into my fingers. How her nipples stand up immediately, for me to roll them and pull them out in my fingers.
I kick open the door to my suite and then throw her down on the huge bed standing on its platform. Before I know what’s happened, it’s morning.
*
“Where’s my fucking espresso?” I grit out.
The clock reads after ten and the servants still haven’t come in to pull back the drapes and serve me coffee. I roll over and then sit bolt upright in deeply shocked horror. I’m not alone.
“Good morning,” Kennedy purrs up at me.
She looks so adorable all tousled and sleepy I yearn to make it one for both of us.
“This bed really is -” Her gaze slides down to the granite pole at my thighs standing up like a soldier on parade ground. “- king size.”
She strokes across the rumpled sheet with an inviting sensual touch that makes my skin heat up.
What is she still doing here?
Shit, I can’t have a woman in my bed. No wonder the servants haven't come in. They’re probably stampeding around outside the door wondering what protocol dictates they should do.
I’m not sure I know what protocol dictates. And right now I’m consumed by a dictator in my pants demanding relief.
Her eyes trawl across my bare chest, slowly enough to step down and along each ripple and ridge individually, like she’s drinking me up. Okay, I guess I deserve the reciprocal eyefuck treatment. Then she lands on the bulge pressing hungrily, ravenously, against the fabric of my pants.
Instead of looking away with a pink flush of shyness, the little vixen licks her lips. Slowly, but absent-minded, like she doesn't realize what she’s up to. When she knows exactly what she’s doing. Driving me fucking crazy.
Her hand strokes across the smooth sheet like it’s calling me back to bed. I’m three strides away and every pore in my body is taut. Screaming at me ‘what the fuck are you waiting for?’
“This bed is so big.”
She stretches her arms to the side and arches her back so her tits lift and press through the thin white cotton of her shift. Thank fuck she has her clothes on. All two items – I assume she’s still wearing panties.
Christ!
Chapter ELEVEN
Kennedy
“What did I do?” Lucien demands to know.
Ohmigod he’s hot in the morning. Especially walking around shirtless, his muscles twitching and flexing in physical fury.
And so cute when he’s all bewildered and stuttering and out of control.
I giggle inside as I watch him leap around. And during that I take in the hard chest, the curve of his pecs into the delts that makes such a perfect hollow for me to nestle into when he wraps one arm around me. He was like a shield wall last night, like he thought those photographers were pointing guns not cameras.
“Stop grinning like that and answer me,” he commands.
A royal command.
Should I tell him we had wild passionate sex with me tied to the royal bedchamber head-post? It would be so funny. But he looks so stressed I decide not to fib.
“Nothing. But believe me you need to get a bed that’s smaller than Kansas.”
“You’re sure?” he pants.
“Totally. Your wife will want to snuggle into that chest all night and not be relegated to the east coast.”
“I mean you’re sure nothing happened between us?”
I tip my head to one side and roll my eyes over his body, giving him another good eyefuck, same as he’s given me more than once. Problem is, my pussy starts throbbing so hard, I wish we had done something last night. Instead of him allowing me to get his
shirt off, but when I went for the belt buckle, he leapt away like he’d caught fire.
“I think I’d remember a tool like that,” I murmur, staring at that massive bulge and silently begging for it to be pressed inside me.
“Wow, you’re cheeky in the morning.”
“I’m cheeky all day,” I say.
“That right?”
He takes a step and my insides squirm with pleasure, sure he’s coming back into bed. And this time we’ll do more than talk, like last night when he had me spread on the bed and then left me there, dangling. But damn, if a timid knocking on the door doesn’t halt him this time.
He pulls that stunning chest up tall and announces “Come,” with regal command.
Fuck, I wish I had.
A veritable platoon of servants marches into the room in a perfectly straight line, each carrying a silver tray held aloft at the precise height.
They silently prepare everything, laying out silver cutlery, positioning the tie backs for the drapes exactly. They move like invisible ghosts, not hearing the real world. I take my chance.
“Did nothing happen because you’re afraid of Daddy?” I ask.
He releases a roar of laughter.
“I’m more afraid of my daddy than I am yours, Angel,” he says. “And mine’s over eighty years old.
A servant waits at the side of the bed holding up a golden robe and then I realize it’s for me to slip into. I slither out of bed feeling Lucien’s eyes lap me up hungrily. I turn and spread my arms like a hostess for a game show contestant before pushing my arms into the sleeves. When I reach down to tie the belt, amazed that the fabric appears to be actual spun gold, someone is already tying it for me. Perfectly of course.
All eyes in the room are averted from me, except for the Prince’s. He continues gazing at me with such – I don’t know – is it fascination? Interest? Like he thinks I’m related to a baboon? I don’t know. He waves away the person holding out his robe.
He’s going to eat breakfast bare-chested. Is it my birthday? Because that is some gift.
The servants form a line to leave the room and the last one to leave, in livery so he must be the head boss or whatever, says; “Your father will see you at eleven.”