* * * *
The black linen slacks she wore rubbed as delicately as Mak's fingers against her freshly shaved pussy. She lolled on the leather seat of his Jaguar to intensify the sensation and chuckled at the memory of their shower.
Mak turned briefly to smile at her. “What amuses you?"
"Just remembering how much I enjoy it when you shave me."
"It is my pleasure,” Mak said as they swooped past the harbor with lighted multi-million dollar yachts dotting the water like diamond brooches. “Almost as much pleasure as when you shave me."
Instead of watching the Mediterranean in the silver glow from Earth's largest heavenly body, Clarisse preferred to watch Mak's heavenly body as he skillfully drove the curving Basse Corniche, the steep cliff road of Monaco and the Riviera.
"Maybe someday I'll shave your face,” she said with a laugh. “Although I don't think I'd enjoy it as much."
"Nor I."
Clarisse squirmed in her seat. “This conversation is making me horny all over again. And we can't do a thing until we get to your place. I still think we should have stayed in my hotel room."
But then she would have missed the pleasure of watching Mak skillfully drive the twisting road.
The car's headlights momentarily lit the dark purple flowers of the bougainvillea clinging to the cliff face, then swung around the curve. She touched the scarlet rose he'd plucked from his lapel and tucked into her blouse's V-neck. Her hand drifted across her breast to rub one taut, aching nipple. She'd prefer Mak's hand, but with the turns in the road still thick with traffic, he needed one hand on the steering wheel and the other to shift.
"We can swim at my home."
"Oh, yeah.” A hot shiver went through her at the memory of the two of them having sex like dolphins in the heated pool. Time to change the subject before she stripped off her slacks and pleasured herself in the car. She had done it before and Mak had loved it, but she had no desire to give a busload of tourists an eyeful on this famous road. “How do you think your car will do in the Grand Prix time trials? I still think it a pity you can't drive the race car you own."
"I prefer my car's team to win,” Mak replied without taking his eyes from the curving road. “I enjoy driving but do not have the skill necessary to win. Despite my parents’ protests at my direct involvement, I prefer being part of the pit crew and ensuring the car runs smoothly so the driver can concentrate on winning."
Although she firmly believed, if given the chance, Mak would have been a hell of a Formula One driver, Clarisse didn't comment on his parents’ disapproval. As royalty, he had to follow their standards, not always his own wishes. The times she'd met his parents at parties, they were polite to the American, but she knew she didn't come close to the practically perfect princess they had in mind for their youngest son to marry. “Good luck at getting a good position for the race then."
"Thank you."
They talked of inconsequential things the rest of the short drive to Cap Ferrat, the exclusive peninsula enclave of millionaires. When Mak turned into the driveway of his family home, the security officer waved the car smoothly through the open gate. Mak inhaled a sharp gasp when they went around the final bend to pull in front of the portico.
"What's the matter?"
His lips thinned, and he nodded sharply at the large Bentley parked in front of them. “My parents have arrived early."
Clarisse stifled her groan. “They probably want to watch their youngest son's big boy toy race in the time trial. Let's go back to my hotel."
"It's too late.” Mak nodded at the butler who opened Clarisse's door and offered a white-gloved hand to help her maneuver from the low-slung car.
"Good evening, Ms. Jones. It is good to have you visit again. Did you have a profitable evening?"
By the light from the entryway, Clarisse saw his gray-blue eyes sparkle with pleasure, and he very lightly squeezed her hand before he released it. He probably knew she was uncomfortable at the thought of meeting Mak's parents again, and his welcome helped ease the butterflies threatening to gag her.
"Yes, thank you. I had a nice run tonight,” she answered while Mak came around the car.
One of the younger livery-clad men slid into the driver's seat, his happy grin momentarily slipping out at the treat, and prepared to move the Jaguar to the garages. The Bentley rolled to the garaging area with the dignity of a dowager queen. The Jaguar grumbled in the Bentley's wake as though it were a teenager forced into being polite.
"Prince Makis,” the butler bowed to Mak. “Your parents are relaxing in the blue sitting room before they retire."
"I suppose the gatekeeper told them we were here."
White eyebrows rose to the older man's hairline as if surprised at Mak's question. “Of course. It is his job. As it is my job to escort you to the blue room and then have the staff freshen a suite for Ms. Jones, as her highness requested should Ms. Jones accompany you."
Mak placed his palm on the small of Clarisse's back. “Please do not prepare an extra suite for Ms. Jones. Regardless of my parents’ plans, she will stay with me. As usual,” he added firmly.
"Yes, your Grace.” His voice and face immediately lost its animation and became neutral.
Clarissa hated the idea of the poor man caught between the royal couple's orders and the younger prince's demand. “Mak, we can go back to my hotel."
"We'll remain here."
Clarisse frowned and shook her head at the arrogant prince. “I'll stay in my own suite, then. So it doesn't upset your parents."
Mak's hand moved from the small of her back to pull her against his side. “Do not concern yourself with my parents’ attitude. You will stay with me."
The butler bowed them into the mansion and then escorted them to where Mak's parents were relaxing.
"Your majesties, Prince Makis and his friend, Ms. Jones."
Mak released Clarisse long enough to bow to his parents. Being an American, Clarisse simply nodded and smiled at them, then let Mak lead her to one of the small couches.
"How are you, Ms. Jones?” his mother asked. “Would you care for some tea?"
"No, thank you, ma'am. The caffeine upsets my stomach."
"Mother puts a shot of amaretto in her tea this time of night,” Mak said with a wink to Clarisse while the Princess blushed. “Your usual, Clarisse?"
Clarisse nodded as Mak sauntered to the bar. “Father? A second?"
"Yes, thank you.” The Prince set his chunky glass on the table with a clink. He stared momentarily at Clarisse's chest.
Annoyed at her boobs being ogled, she took a breath to say something, but the scent of the rose in the V of her neckline reminded her she was wearing one of the roses of their country. More than likely he was staring at the royal rose, not at her, but she wished the Prince didn't behave as though the scarlet rose was a scarlet A.
With a half sneer marring the handsome face Mak inherited, the Prince said, “Well, Ms. Jones, I understand you are a professional gambler."
"No, sir,” Clarisse said firmly, taking the vodka tonic from Mak. “I am a professional poker player. I don't gamble."
Mak's parents stared at her as though she were completely nuts.
"But you bet money.” The light shining through the antique Tiffany lampshade made the Princess’ curly silver hair glimmer with reds, blues, and greens.
"Yes, ma'am.” She sipped her drink and smiled at Mak, who settled calmly beside her on the settee, holding his own whiskey. She figured since they didn't approve of her anyway, she might as well royally aggravate the royals. “You know, F.B., you're just wasting your talents playing prince. You're not only a great grease monkey with your Formula One team, you make a hell of a good bartender."
Mak laughed and patted her thigh. “The modern prince must be versatile in skills. There are not many dragons to slay these days."
"F.B.?” the Prince asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Private nickname,” Mak said shortly, then smiled at Claris
se about their private joke of F.B for Fuck Buddy. Even as her heart tightened at the glowing gleam in his eyes, she saw the slight frowns his parents exchanged. Too damn bad. Until he was engaged, she was part of his life whether they liked it or not.
"To answer your question, ma'am,” she continued to Mak's mother, “yes, I bet money. But poker is a game of strategy and concentration, only occasionally luck. At the level in which I make my living, the skill in reading the other players’ body language, remembering what cards have been played, and calculating the odds of getting the right cards is how I win."
"Perhaps you would like to play a game of cards with my wife and me,” the Prince said with the same calm tone Clarisse had learned to distrust when Mak used it.
"Neither of you play poker,” Mak said in that equally pleasant tone. Clarisse knew when it came from Mak's mouth, whomever he addressed had better cover his or her ass because Mak was about to tear a new hole in it. Now she realized he learned the tone from his father.
"True,” replied the Princess, who sipped her tea as though she were in Buckingham Palace rather than caught between two barely civil males. “But we do play a rather good game of gin rummy. Do you play gin rummy, Ms. Jones?"
Not since I was eight years old. Clarisse managed to stop her sarcastic answer and modulate her reply, “Yes, ma'am, although I prefer my gin with tonic."
The ghost of a grin across the Princess’ face surprised her. Maybe Mak's mother did kind of like her. “Gin rummy, it is then. Come along."
Carrying their drinks, they followed the Princess down a hallway to another room. This one, with furniture and draperies in dark red, held various shaped tables and a pool table.
"Let's finish this game quickly,” Mak whispered, his breath sliding into her ear as smoothly as his cock had slid into her pussy when they made love on the card table the last time she visited.
Despite Clarisse's offer to teach the Prince and Princess how to play Texas Hold ‘Em, the cards were dealt for gin rummy. She stifled her boredom with the game used by her mathematician mother and statistical analysis father to teach her and her brothers numbers and sharpen their memory skills. She could play this game in her sleep.
The Prince and Princess began to talk about visiting people, a dinner party they'd been to, whom they planned to have visit. Occasionally, they directed a comment to Mak, but they ignored Clarisse. Bored with the conversation and the game, Clarisse let her mind drift to the last time she and Mak had been in this room. She glanced at the pool table and remembered Mak's ass as he bent over the table to line up a shot. The table's felt rubbed softly against her nipple as she steadied herself for her shot.
She looked at Mak, and his eyes flicked from his cards to her breasts, which she knew without looking, peaked under the peach silk blouse. What a night not to wear a bra. But then again, if they'd known his parents were here, she and Mak wouldn't have left her hotel.
She played mechanically, thinking of Mak's hands on her, his mouth cherishing her. Her cream grew thick and flowed between her thighs. It took all her will power not to rub her aching crotch.
At the Prince's call of “Gin,” Clarisse looked at the remaining cards she held in astonishment. She didn't have a clue how long ago it had been since she'd been caught with so many points in her hand. Mak's hand held almost as many. If the two of them didn't stop thinking about screwing, they were going to get screwed in this game.
Clarisse shuffled and dealt the next round with grim determination. She didn't lose, especially not at a kid's game. She had no reason to placate his parents by letting them win. Nothing she did was going to make her acceptable to them. It didn't matter anyway. As much as she enjoyed being with Mak, the bottom line was, she was just as convenient for him as he was for her. They'd never made any commitments further into the future than the next time they'd get together. They both knew his future lay with someone acceptable to his parents and the country he served as prince.
"Have you decided if you're going to join the next hunting party on the Queen's land in Scotland?” the Princess asked the Prince.
"Yes,” the Prince answered as he picked up Clarisse's discarded five of hearts, “but I think we'll only stay five days instead of eight.” He discarded a queen.
Mak took a card from the deck and discarded it. The Princess took both Mak's discarded card and the queen. She tucked the queen into her hand and placed Mak's rejected card in the area of her hand that Clarisse knew contained the cards the Princess planned to discard. She then dropped another five onto the rummy stack.
On impulse, Clarisse reached for the five, but stopped at the Princess’ almost inaudible drawn breath. She took a deck card and discarded it, her gut telling her the Prince was going to take it and the Princess’ five, then discard the same one she had just drawn.
As soon as the Prince lifted the two cards, Clarisse laid all her cards on the table. “This game is now closed. I don't play with cheaters."
"I beg your pardon?"
"What do you mean?"
Clarisse ignored the ice from both the Prince and Princess’ voices.
"Clarisse, what are you talking about?"
"Your parents aren't just talking, Mak. They're table talking, telling each other what cards they need. Place your cards face down on the table, please.” She knew when to use the deceptively docile tone she'd learned from Mak.
Laying her hands on their cards, she spoke to Mak, “Your mother needed a queen, so she talked about the Queen's hunting party in Scotland. Your father not only gave her his queen, but told her he needed a five to go with the one in his hand and the one he took from the discard. When I reached for the five, your mother reacted. She knew he needed it. I left it to see if he would take it. He did. With it, he has at least three fives, your mother has at least two queens.” Clarisse bit the last words out, her anger making her head pound. She flipped the cards over to prove her point. “Do not cheat at cards when you play with me. You will regret it."
"Ah, what is the American saying, Alekos?” the Princess asked the Prince in her sweet voice. “The one about make a mess with someone?"
Clarisse turned to her, unsure if she heard amusement in the Princess’ voice or not. “Mess with me and you mess with the whole trailer park, your highness."
"And I am part of her trailer park.” Mak stood so abruptly his chair fell backwards with a crash. He threw his cards on the table.
"Right your chair, Makis, and sit back down,” the Prince said. “Do you believe Ms. Jones, Makis? Do you believe your mother and I would cheat at a card game?"
Mak picked up his chair and carefully set it in place. Then he circled the table and placed his hands on Clarisse's shoulders. “Clarisse knows card games and how to read people. If she thinks you were cheating, I believe her. We will leave now."
"Of course, we were cheating. We always cheat.” This time the amusement in the Princess’ voice came through clearly.
"We leave now.” Mak lifted Clarisse's hand.
Not wanting to deal with his parents any more than he did, she stood and gained comfort from his arm around her shoulders.
The Prince's chair scraped the parquet floor when he stood. “You will not leave. You and Ms. Jones will stay and hear what we have to say."
The Prince was not only issuing a command, he was a father who was not going to brook any nonsense. The Princess went around the table and joined him. He tucked her under his arm the way Mak held Clarisse. “We have been pressuring you to marry. You must choose a bride."
"And I choose not to be paraded before all the young women as the catch of the year. I live my own life."
"And do you want to live that life with Clarisse?” the Princess asked.
"Yes.” His arm slipped down and tightened around her waist.
Clarisse stepped away from him and looked squarely into Mak's golden brown eyes. “I'm not going to be your snatch on the side. When you get engaged, I'm out of your life."
"Not if I'm engaged to yo
u.” Mak's eyes held hers for a moment, revealing a love she'd never seen from him before, promising eternity. He pulled her against his side again and faced his parents. “I wish to marry Clarisse. Not some debutante or princess you've chosen."
"We had a reason for cheating at cards, you know,” the Prince said more mildly and more kindly than Clarisse had ever heard him. “We needed to know Clarisse was strong enough to stand up for herself and her principles. It's a hard life being married to a prince, even one who will probably not rule the principality. You will be under much public scrutiny. You have to be able to prove daily you are worthy being a Princess of Renoun, both to our subjects and the rest of the world."
"We thought if you were bright enough to catch us cheating—and trust me, few people have—you'd be bright enough to handle questions and comments from the public,” the Princess explained.
"And,” the Prince continued, “we thought if you were strong enough to challenge us at what we were doing, you'd be strong enough to deal with anything else out of the ordinary you might encounter."
"You set her up? You planned this?” Mak's ire mollified Clarisse's fury at being suckered.
His mother smiled at them both. “We've known about your relationship for many years. We knew by the length of the time you've been together that you enjoy each other's company. From our investigations—"
Clarisse's anger flared again. “You investigated me? Me?"
"Of course. We had to be certain you weren't someone using our son for your own gains. We have no issue with your being an American, nor with your profession. You are honorable at it. We have been assured by the servants you are quite kind. You also show respect for Makis’ chosen profession, although we do not approve of it either."
"Not interfering with the way you work directly with your team and car proves we allow you to live your life with little interference,” his father interrupted. “However, tonight is about you and Clarisse. Not only has she shown her support of you, but your words and actions have shown us how strongly you reciprocate her feelings. There is more to your relationship than simply a sexual liaison. Therefore, if you wish to wed Clarisse, all that is left is to give you the traditional engagement ring.” The Prince pulled a small box from his trouser's pocket and placed the box in Mak's hand, then kissed Clarisse's cheek. “Welcome to the family."
Destination Pleasure Page 14