Royally Screwed: A British Bad Boy Romance

by Jessica Ashe

  Seems you’ve come into money. Or rather your new husband has.

  I guess this is where I say congratulations. Congratulations! I’m happy for you, I really am. And I’m happy for myself too. I didn’t think you’d ever be able to repay me for the pain, and emotional distress I went through after you ran out on our wedding, but now it looks like you can.

  That wedding wasn’t cheap, plus you embarrassed me in front of my friends and family. $1,000,000 should cover it.

  Don’t even think about showing this to the police or pretending you can’t afford it. I want the money and if you can’t give it to me, I’ll just have to find some other way to profit from this mess.

  Hmm… whatever could I sell to make some money…

  I frowned at the cryptic ending to the email, and read it again. What would he sell? Stories about us? I suppose he could say I was shit in bed, but there would likely be men coming out and saying the opposite. If they didn’t, I might give them a nudge. The public deserved to hear both sides of every story after all.

  It wasn’t until I closed the email that I spotted the paperclip next to it, showing that there was an attachment. Not just one attachment—twenty-two. Photos, short video clips, and a few screenshots of text messages.

  The messages were from me and they were graphic. Nowhere near as graphic as the photos and video clips though. Some of them were just body shots, but there were plenty containing my face in varying stages of excitement. One picture even showed my face with evidence of Stan’s excitement all over it. The videos were all of me touching myself waiting for Stan to join me at home. I’d been bored and—much to my continued amazement—I used to desire him.

  Now the entire country was about to see its princess—and possible future queen—in a way that only her boyfriend of the time was ever supposed to see.

  I closed my eyes and prayed for the floor to open up and swallow me. I couldn’t handle this. There was a reason Princes and Princesses were kept in a bubble from birth. It was so they didn’t do anything foolish like sending nude photos to their partners or making homemade sex tapes.

  There had to be a way out of this. If George never officially accepted his role as a prince, then as far as Stan knew, he wouldn’t have any money. We didn’t have to make the inheritance public knowledge. Stan might still release the photos out of spite, but he wouldn’t be able to blackmail me.

  George didn’t want to be a prince anyway, and I sure as hell didn’t want to become a princess if it meant that videos of me touching myself, slick and wet with excitement, ended up all over the Internet. I’d go down in history with one of those awful nicknames like Slutty Sophia, or The Randy Princess.

  “Everything okay?” George asked.

  I opened my eyes and looked up from my position still sat on the cold bathroom floor. I hadn’t even noticed him come in. How long had I been here for? I still felt sick to my stomach. Stan could release those photos and videos at any minute. How long would it take that information to get out online? Three, maybe four seconds?

  “Yeah,” I said, pushing myself up to my feet. “I’m fine. Just figured I’d wait for you before getting in the shower. Is that man’s dog okay?”

  George frowned, but then laughed. “I wasn’t actually seeing… Nevermind. God, you’re adorable. Come here.”

  George wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly. His hands were freezing cold on my back, but I didn’t flinch away.

  I should tell him. If he changed his mind and decided to become a prince, this would be as much an issue for him as it would for me. Not to mention, it would be a national embarrassment.

  I felt dirty, and not in a good way. What had I been thinking? I’d been in love with Stan at the time, but I should have known better than to do something so permanent.

  “So, uh, why were you sitting on the bathroom floor?” George asked.

  “Just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “About whether I want to be a princess after all. I’m coming around to your way of thinking. Perhaps it’s just best if claim the inheritance, and then… you know.”

  “Go our separate ways?

  “Yeah. After spending an appropriate amount of time together of course.”

  “Of course,” George agreed. “Wouldn’t want to risk it looking fake. Maybe we should be together a little longer than we initially planned?”

  “Fine with me.”

  “Still want a shower?” George asked.

  “Why don’t we see if this bath is big enough for two?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  George

  “I feel like a right tit.”

  “Well I think you look absolutely adorable,” Sophia said, as she looked me up and down.

  “You’re not allowed to call me that,” I insisted. “That’s my word for you.”

  “Okay, then you look handsome,” Sophia said.

  “I’d be a lot more convinced if you weren’t covering your mouth with your hand to stifle a laugh.”

  I never in a million years thought I would be seen dead with tight white trousers, knee high leather boots, and a whip.

  “You two ready?” Harry asked, before looking me up and down. “Um, George, you don’t need a whip for polo.”

  “Someone told me I did,” I said tersely, staring at Sophia, who was still trying not to laugh.

  “You just need this stick,” Harry said, taking the whip from me and passing Sophia and me long sticks with a club at the end. “Simple game really. You just need to use this to hit the ball in the goal.”

  “Simple,” Sophia said.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, “except we’ll be doing it on horses.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Sophia said. “It’s easy. Like riding a bike. Kind of.”

  “You’ve ridden before?” Harry asked.

  “Yeah, she’s used to riding a horse,” I joked.

  “A few times,” Sophia replied, after elbowing me in the ribs. “A friend from school used to own a horse, and she let me ride it occasionally.”

  “But you haven’t, George?”

  “No,” I replied. “We weren’t really the horse riding type growing up.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”

  I didn’t.

  * * *

  “Remind me why we’re doing this again?” I yelled to Sophia as she rode past me chasing after the ball. I tried to turn the horse around, but by the time I had done so, the ball was heading back in the other direction. I should just play goalkeeper. Did they have goalkeepers in this sport?

  “It’s for charity,” she yelled back.

  So this is what the nobility did in its spare time—faffed around on horses for other rich people to watch. My schoolmates were going to have a great fucking laugh when these pictures came out.

  I had no hope of making any contribution to the team, so I just watched Sophia riding gracefully around the field as if she’d been doing this sort of thing her entire life. She dangled so far over the side of the horse in an effort to reach the ball, it was a miracle she didn’t fall off. I, on the other hand, could barely stay on the horse even though I was making no effort to play the ball.

  As usual, Sophia looked perfect. I never could keep my eyes off her when she wore tight trousers, and right now the trousers were so tight I could see her thighs tensing as she fought to stay in control of the horse between her legs.

  Men like me were not meant to ride horses. I was way too fucking big for one thing. I should be playing rugby, or, at a push, football. I’d rather play cricket than this shit, and that was really saying something given my general hatred for that ‘sport.’

  People on my team started shouting my name while horses from the opposing team sped towards me. I looked down and saw the ball lying still next to my horse. I should probably do something.

  I leant over and swung the big club-thing in my hand. I made contact with the ball and sent it somewhere in Sophia
’s general direction. Then the momentum of my swing brought my club all the way round, and made me lose balance.

  Turns out losing balance while riding a horse—badly—is not a good combination. I fell. Frankly, I was amazed it took so long. I hadn’t been particularly high up, but I still managed to hit the ground with an almighty thud.

  I froze and stayed still as hooves thundered past me, barely avoiding trampling all over me.

  I bloody hated horses.

  * * *

  “We’ve raised a record amount for charity,” Harry said excitedly as he slapped me on my bruised back. “Your appearance here really made a difference. Falling off the horse probably helped as well.”

  “Glad I did some good,” I replied.

  Next time I’m staying in the bedroom with Sophia. I’ve never fallen off a bed before.

  “Look,” Harry continued, “usually all this money would go to the Prince’s Trust, which I guess you may take over soon, but I’ve convinced the organizers to let you nominate the charity.”

  “Oh sure,” I replied. “Let’s give it to the Mary Kay Foundation.”

  An easy choice for me, given what had happened to my sister, although a few hundred pounds wasn’t going to go too far in the grand scheme of themes. Still every little bit helped.

  “Excellent, I’ll get it set up.”

  I looked around for Sophia and saw her running over to me from the stables where she’d spent some time with the horses.

  “You’ll be pleased to know your horse didn’t suffer any injuries,” Sophia said, as she stretched up and kissed me on the cheek.

  “Oh, excellent,” I replied sarcastically. “I’m delighted to hear that. I was so worried about the creature. As I was falling, all I could think was ‘I hope the horse is okay.’”

  “If you’d have listened to the training, you would have had your feet in the stirrups properly and you wouldn’t have fallen off.”

  “I was too distracted by you in those tight trousers.”

  I reached around and squeezed her arse firmly before she slapped my hand away.

  “There are cameras everywhere.” She flushed red and bit her lower lip, which meant we would be heading back to the hotel as soon as possible.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered in her ear.

  “Okay, but I am not straddling anything tonight. My thighs are killing me.”

  We were just about to sneak away when I heard Harry’s voice over the loudspeakers dotted around the field.

  “Thank you ladies and gentlemen for coming here today. And thank you for bringing your cheque books.” A gentle laughter rippled over the crowd which by this point was giddy with champagne. “As you all know, we had a special guest here today.” The crowd all turned to face me which meant I had to force a smile and wave. “Mr. Whittemore has nominated the chosen charity, so we will be sending a check for £135,000 to The Mary Kay Foundation.”

  There was probably more applause at this point, but I was too stunned to notice.

  “Was I hearing things,” I asked Sophia, “or did he just say £135,000?”

  “It’s a wealthy crowd.”

  “Holy. Shit.”

  Maybe being a prince isn’t that bad after all.

  The second Harry had finished his little speech, I escaped the crowds and got changed into some normal-people clothes.

  “Ready to head back to the hotel?” Sophia asked. Then she leaned close and whispered in my ear. “I’ve kept the boots.”

  I groaned in anticipation, and was about ready to pick her up in my arms and carry her back to the waiting limo when I remembered something else we should be taking back with us.

  Harry ran over the second I caught his eye.

  “What’s up, George?”

  “Uh, I’m going to need that whip back.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  George

  There was nothing more wonderful in life than a woman who had no idea just how beautiful she was.

  She kept catching me staring at her in the car on the way to the hotel. I probably looked like a creepy stalker, but I just couldn’t take my eyes off her. Here was a woman who could get me going just by sitting cross-legged in the car and typing out text messages on her phone.

  Sophia wasn’t perfect. Even though she was no shrinking violet—not by any stretch of the imagination—she hadn’t let me bring the whip back to the hotel room. Something about not wanting to be treated like a horse. There was just no pleasing some women.

  The second I had money, I’d insist on a limo to drive us around everywhere. At least that way we would have privacy. I couldn’t bear sitting in the car for twenty minutes without being able to rip the clothes from her body and devour every inch of her.

  But of course, the second I had money, we would split up and go our separate ways. That was the plan after all.

  I forced those thoughts from my mind when the car pulled up next to the hotel, and the driver opened the door. We would soon have some privacy; that was all that mattered right now.

  My balls were heavy and my cock throbbed in my pants. I’d once gone a week without release when I was a teenager as part of a dare. That’s what this felt like, except one hundred times worse because Sophia was right beside me, her presence a constant tease on my already-strained patience.

  The ache—bordering on pain—got worse with every second I wasn’t inside her tight, wet sex. Did she feel the same way? She looked to be handling the wait with remarkable ease, whereas I was about to explode.

  We didn’t speak as the elevator moved painfully slowly up to the top floor. I dug the keycard from my wallet—eventually finding it hidden between loads of credit cards—and we stumbled into the room. We’d been alone in the elevator, but even so, the door slamming shut signaled an end to being under public scrutiny for the time being.

  That meant sex.

  At fucking last.

  “You look tense,” Sophia teased.

  “You have no bloody idea,” I replied.

  “Want me to order a massage? They have a nice young man called Diego on staff. He’ll come up to the room if you want.”

  “The only hands I want on my skin are yours. Come here.”

  Sophia bit her lip, and for a painful moment I thought she might play hard to get. She turned her back and walked slowly towards the bed. Standing with her back to me, she pulled off her top, before dropping it on the floor.

  “Stay there,” she commanded, just as I went to half walk, half fly across the room towards her.

  Sophia reached a hand behind her and unclasped her bra, letting it fall softly to the floor. It took all my willpower not to dive over there. Just knowing her breasts were exposed had my cock straining to be set free. Her nipples would be stiff, eagerly awaiting my warm mouth.

  Next came her trousers. Sophia hooked her thumbs under the waistband and—excruciatingly slowly—pulled them down to her knees, before bending at the waist and taking them all the way down to the floor. At some point, she stepped out of them, but my eyes were too transfixed on her arse—barely covered by her skimpy knickers—as she pointed it at me, challenging me to move from my spot.

  Finally, Sophia turned around to face me, wearing just her panties. “You like?” she asked.

  “I’d like them a lot more on the floor.”

  Sophia smiled, and slipped her panties off just as she had done her trousers before.

  I didn’t know where to look.

  “You can come over now,” she said.

  How long had I been standing there for? I was almost drooling at this point.

  I resisted the urge to run up and throw her down on the bed. Instead, I walked up, and kissed her softly on the lips, as if I were a mature adult in a relationship. Weird.

  Sophia moaned in my mouth as our tongues met. My hands began exploring the soft skin of her back while she wrapped her arms around my neck and held on tight.

  I couldn’t kiss her for long before the urge to take her breasts i
n my mouth became impossible to resist. Sophia sighed as I circled a nipple with my tongue, while pinching the other gently between thumb and forefinger so it didn’t feel left out.

  “You need to get naked,” Sophia said between heavy breaths.

  “Yes, m’lady.” I’d never undressed so quickly. The second I was naked, Sophia was handing me something else to wear. I tore open the packet with my teeth and quickly sheathed myself.

  This time I did push her to the bed. She fell down with her legs invitingly open, but instead of diving between them, I lay down next to her and continued caressing her skin.

  Sophia held her breath as my fingers trickled over her breasts, down to her belly, and then to her sex. My fingers brushed lightly against her soaking folds, but I didn’t enter her. She was ready for me, and I wanted my cock to be what took her from the starting line all the way to the finish.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I muttered, as I moved my hand to her thigh.

  “Fit for a prince?” she joked.

  “Fit for a king.”

  “I’ll settle for a prince for now.”

  My hand moved back up to her chest, where I felt her heart pounding against my palm. “You nervous?”

  “No. Excited.”

  I leaned over her and pressed my lips against hers as I moved between her legs and guided my cock to her slick entrance. I looked into her eyes as I plunged myself deep inside her. Sophia moaned deeply, and wrapped her arms around my back as I filled her completely.

  Her hips rocked in time with mine, as my cock slipped in and out of her increasing wetness. I knew that her breasts would be pert and her nipples hard, but I couldn’t break my gaze from her eyes.

  Time lost all meaning. We were in rhythm with each other, body and mind, and I lost myself completely in the moment. It could have been a minute later or twenty minutes later, but at some point, I felt the muscles in her body tensing up. Her fingers dug tighter into my back, and her pussy clenched hold of my cock, reluctant to let me leave her.

  She came in almost complete silence. Only the tension of her body and then the eventual release let me know that she had finished.