Forbidden Princess

by Ella Miles

  I wince, still sorry that the drugs messed her up that badly. They shouldn’t have, but then I didn’t know her history, or that others would also inject more into her. At the time, I would have done anything to get Odette back.

  “It won’t help, but I’m sorry.”

  She ignores my apology, her gaze roaming the apartment. It’s not huge, but it’s cozy, a perfect place for two single women to live. A small kitchenette that looks like it doesn’t do much more than warm up takeout. A two-seater bar and a living room that fits a sofa, small chair, and TV. The bedrooms and bathroom appear to be down the hall.

  “This was my safe place for so long. The one freedom Vincent let me have. Live here, work here, go to school here. I always knew it was temporary, but it was still mine, if only for a few years.”

  A few years. She’s only had a few years of freedom. A few years to live on her own. A few years to belong to herself. It was all pretend, all fake. She has always belonged to the mafia, promised to marry another, but this was her sanctuary for a little while.

  “The man you were running from, did he come here?”

  “No, I’ve never been kidnapped from here. Vincent ensured this place is a safe as it can be. Security knows we are here.” Her brain is working overtime. “We can’t do this,” she whispers on a ragged breath.

  I cock my head, my heart slamming to a halt at her words.

  “Can’t? I’m pretty sure Loki won’t try to stop us,” I try to make a joke to make her smile. I fail.

  “I’m forbidden. The guys took a big risk in having sex with me. They did it so I wouldn’t be viewed as an object, so I could have some fleeting control. They used masks on the video so it would be harder for Vincent to come after them, but it was still a risk.” She looks at me, terrified.

  “They were really your first time?”

  She nods.

  I let that pain roll around in me. I hate that they were her first. Jealous rage courses through my veins.

  “Vincent has cameras, security you don’t even know about. He’ll know we fucked. He’ll know you fucked me when I’m forbidden.”

  “So?”

  “He’ll remove you from the game.”

  “He won’t, but even if he did, I’m not sure I want to win the game anyway.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s not just the game; he’ll kill you for touching me when he forbid it. I can’t—”

  She’s thinking way too much about this.

  I move before she has a chance to think more, to worry more.

  I take her hand gently, kissing the back of her hand. The single touch has her eyes rolling back in her head.

  “I don’t care that you’re forbidden. I don’t care if you belong to me or not. I. Don’t. Care. I want you. You want me. Tonight, that’s all we are going to worry about.”

  “But—”

  I catch her mouth with mine, shutting her up. She’s resistant at first, but I feel her melt into my mouth, her body along with it.

  I pull back a second to glance at her. She’s still worried, concerned that I’ll die. She doesn’t know how many near-death experiences I’ve survived. Death might be a welcomed friend.

  “Dying would be worth it for one night with you. If I don’t have you, I’ll die anyway.” I don’t know where my words come from, but I know they’re true.

  There’s some strange connection between Ri and me. Something I’m desperate to fully connect. I need her more than anything else. More than revenge. More than a fresh start. More than air.

  “I won’t come to your funeral,” she says with a smirk. Then her arms are wrapped around my neck, and her lips are planted against mine so hard that I stumble a step back.

  This time nothing is going to stop us. Death may await me; pain may await her, but neither of us will regret tonight.

  18

  Ri

  Beckett’s words are the most powerful interrogation, capable of making me do anything. They are sweet and beautiful and everything I want to hear, but his words aren’t going to be the death of just him; they are going to be the death of me too.

  His words add to my ever-growing feelings toward him. I don’t understand how these feelings became so consuming so quickly. And yet, my feelings are truer than anything I’ve ever felt.

  My arms are wrapped around his neck, my tongue is deep in his mouth, and I’m lost in him. There is no coming back from this. I’m his.

  But he will never be mine, and that is going to fucking hurt. It won’t stop me, though. Just like the risk of death won’t stop him.

  “Why do you have to be such a good kisser, Princess?” he growls as I nibble on his bottom lip.

  “Just wait until I fuck you; you’ll be saying the same thing about my skills in bed.”

  He groans as I pull on his lip before bucking my hips against his hard length straining in his shorts. And then I rub myself up and down his erection. Multiple layers of clothes separate us, but I could come from the friction alone.

  His hand is back under my shirt, crawling up my stomach, my ribs, and then under my sports bra until he finds his target—my nipple.

  Beckett is an alpha through and through. He likes to be in charge, likes control. I expect him to be rough and demanding, but when he brushes his thumb over my nipple, he’s soft and gentle.

  There are two very different sides to this man, and I want them both.

  The next second he’s tugged my bra up, freeing my boobs, and then his head has dipped, taking my other nipple in my mouth so hard that I scream.

  He laughs at my reaction. “You’re going to wake the neighbors.”

  I shake my head as my hand fists his hair. “Soundproof walls,” is all I can get out. I’m already starting to get incoherent with my words, soon I’ll be completely nonverbal.

  Then his tongue is ever so gentle against my nipple, licking slowly and soothingly. His hand pinches my other nipple hard, and I gasp.

  “I don’t know which I like better—your small moans when I’m gentle with you or your loud gasps and cries when I’m rough.” He grabs my shirt, removing it gently over my throbbing shoulder, and tossing it to the floor before he does the same to my bra. “I guess I’ll have to fuck you twice to find out for sure.”

  God, yes.

  I grab his shirt and rip it over his head before taking his nipple in my mouth and biting down hard in retaliation.

  He moans, and his cock pushes harder against his shorts. I can’t resist pushing my hand beneath his waistband and taking him in my palm.

  His head rolls back as I palm him—my thumb rubs over the head as I feel the slick precum on his tip.

  “Jesus, you have to stop doing that, or I’m going to come before I’m inside you. And I need to be inside you.”

  I grin triumphantly.

  He removes my hand before burying his beneath my leggings, feeling how wet I am. His fingers find their way inside me, pulling my wetness out and rubbing it over my clit.

  My knees buckle, and I fall into his chest as I cry out. His fingers don’t stop—swirling, flicking, pinching, building me faster and faster.

  “Beckett, stop, I’m going to—”

  He chuckles. “The magical thing about you, Princess, is that you can come endless times without any problem.”

  Oh, right.

  He presses hard against my clit, and I fall apart. My pants aren’t even off, and I’m already coming. The second I’m done convulsing, Beckett has my pants off and is lifting me up. I wrap my legs around him as he carries me toward the bedroom. My lips kiss him furiously as my legs work on kicking his shorts off. We fall naked onto my bed.

  “You look better than any princess, Ri. You’re a fighter. My fearless fighter.”

  “Thanks, Hero.”

  He rolls his eyes.

  And then he takes his time kissing every inch of me: my lips, my neck, my breasts, my stomach—everywhere but where I want him.

  “This is torture,” I groan. I try to grab his cock, but he
’s too far away. I try to move his head over my clit, but he dodges my sensitive area.

  “Please, Beckett, you’re killing me.”

  “Good, then we can both die together.”

  My heart swoons at his words. But then concern grows as he kneels over me, his cock finally pressing the sweet spot between my legs.

  “Stop. Whatever you’re thinking, stop. Just be present with me.”

  I close my eyes as he kisses me, and worry fills me.

  “What is it, Fighter?” he asks, using his new nickname for me.

  I don’t want to say. It will ruin the moment. We’ll stop, and I don’t want to stop, not even if what I’m worried about is true.

  “Are you worried about protection? Do you have a condom? Are you on birth control?” He strokes my hair and is beyond patient with me even though I can feel how hard he is, how he’s trying to ignore the strain in his voice.

  “Vincent had me inserted with the implant version of birth control when I was fifteen, and it’s been replaced every four years.” I hold out my arm so he can see the scar on the inside of my arm where the implant was inserted.

  He studies it with a frown, and then he kisses it. Tiny tingles work through my body until I’m curling my toes.

  “What’s wrong, then?”

  “What are you thinking about right now?” I reply.

  His frown lines deepen. “That if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I’m going to end up doing something very bad like fucking you without your consent. I need you to tell me so I can fix it, and then I can fuck you so hard you’ll never worry again. Despite what you think, I’m not that kind of monster.”

  He plays with my hair while waiting for me to spill my thoughts. His words were a little frantic and needy, but the way he slowly strokes my hair tells me he’d wait for however long it takes for me to tell him.

  “Who are you thinking about? Are you…are you thinking about her?” I can’t say her name. I can’t say Odette. But yes, I’m concerned that he’s using me, that he’s thinking about her. Maybe he needs this so he can pretend I’m her.

  “It’s fine if you are; I just want to know so I’ll be prepared if you accidentally call out her name or something,” my words whoosh out of me in one breath.

  He grabs my chin, his expression unreadable as he turns my head toward him. “I’m only thinking about you, Fighter, no one else. I already know being with you will be different than anyone I’ve had before. This is going to feel like a pack of dynamite exploding. It will be that powerful and that wonderful and that painful. With others, it was easy, sweet, and loving. With you, it will wreck us both.”

  He kisses me hard, bringing me out of my anxious thoughts. His words weren’t lies; he gets harder between my legs. His tip pushes just past my entrance, but he’s not really inside me, not like I want.

  He stops. “You better not be thinking about them when I fuck you,” he commands.

  “Only you,” I croak out.

  “Good, now can I fuck you and prove that you’re the only woman on my mind?”

  I nod.

  He pushes past my entrance, and I see stars. Pain slowly turns into pleasure as I take him inside me.

  He kisses me, not giving me time to think. Not that I am anyway—my mind is consumed with how big his cock is and how little of him is inside me.

  He doesn’t tell me to relax, to breathe, or that he’ll fit.

  Instead, he looks deep into my eyes. He lets me in past his barriers to see what he sees—me. Just me.

  His hand runs down my chest slowly and then over the curve of my breast as he freezes inside me. Then his hand dips between my legs until he finds the spot that has me melting at his touch. He doesn’t move inside me; he just plays with my clit until I’m on the edge of another orgasm. He stares into my eyes with such warmth that I think he has to be in love with me too.

  Dangerous thoughts like that continue to flitter through my head.

  He could love me.

  I know I love him.

  He’s the one.

  The one that can help me get free.

  The one for forever.

  But then all the thoughts drift away when he circles my clit, and I scream. I come harder and louder than before, my wetness drenching his cock.

  Then he slams inside me, filling me completely.

  He rocks in and out of me, his cock sliding all the way in and then almost all the way out. The hard V of his abs now rubs against my clit as his hand plays with my nipple, and his mouth kisses mine.

  I feel myself floating out of my body, but I force myself to stay present. I need to remember every second, because this may be the only night I get with him.

  With each thrust, it gets harder and harder to not float away, to not explode, but I hold back. I want to wait and come when he does.

  I don’t see any worry in his eyes about what’s in my thoughts.

  I guess, technically, I break my promise. For a split second, I do think about the other guys. I think about how even though Beckett only has one arm and one cock, fucking him is ten million times better than fucking all four of the other guys at once. Somehow his one body does things to me that all of them couldn’t. He makes me feel like I’m his. He makes me feel wanted, desired, loved in a way I’ve never felt.

  His eyes search mine, and whatever he sees must please him because he thrusts harder, and I can’t hold on any longer—my back arches into him.

  “Beckett,” I cry into his shoulder. My body comes hard on him, rippling pleasure starting in my core and rippling through my fingertips.

  “Rialta,” he screams back as I feel his warm cum pouring inside me.

  There is no denying that the only thing on either of our minds is each other. Fucking changed everything. At least, it did for me.

  I shouldn’t have fucked him.

  I’m not strong enough to let him go. And eventually, I will have to let him go.

  He senses the change in me as he pulls out of me. Already my agony is starting to take hold as my body releases him.

  He pulls me under the covers and tucks me into his shoulder as I close my eyes to keep from crying, knowing that this isn’t real. This was just a really good fuck. One really good night. He doesn’t love me. He still loves her, a ghost.

  We should fuck again; this is our only chance. But I can’t handle him pulling out of me again. I can’t handle the loss of him.

  He must sense that because he doesn’t try to have sex with me again. He just holds me as we both begin to drift asleep.

  It’s in that weird time between being awake and asleep that the words come to me. I don’t know if I actually speak them or just speak them in my mind, but the words exist either way.

  “You could win. You could marry me. This could be real.”

  19

  Beckett

  You could win. You could marry me. This could be real.

  I know Ri didn’t mean to say those words out loud. She was halfway between awake and asleep, and tomorrow she won’t remember speaking those words. But still, the words were said.

  I heard them.

  For a split second, I believed them too.

  I wanted her words to be real.

  I wanted to win just so I could marry her, not because I suspect her father of killing my wife and need to get back at him through her.

  For a second, I let myself imagine that I could have her.

  But I’ve been lost in the fairytale too many times now. My own experiences chasing love have ended in disaster—my friends, who I consider family, have only managed to make it work because they are an anomaly. The odds of a marriage lasting more than a couple of years in this world are slim. Too many become widows. Too many divorce because the job always comes first—it has to if you want to protect your family.

  It’s why I thought I had gotten out. It’s why I married Odette. I thought my life was going to be different.

  I squeeze Rialta tighter to my chest and kiss her forehead, breathin
g in her sweet scent. She’s so young, just twenty. She has her whole life before her, and we both know exactly how it will play out.

  She will be married off to a man she hates. If she’s lucky, the man will treat her with basic respect. If she’s not, he’ll rape her and beat her. And then, one day, he’ll die. Or one day, she’ll die. She’ll be lucky if she makes it to forty.

  It didn’t bother me before, her fate. It wasn’t my concern. My concern was with getting retribution. But now, my stomach turns just thinking about that life for her.

  It doesn’t mean she belongs with me. If anything, it confirms the opposite. I will never escape this life no matter how hard I try. I’ve killed and tortured too many people, made too many enemies.

  But her—maybe I could help her find a way to a different life.

  I can save her, get retribution for Odette, and try not to destroy her heart in the process. That means I can’t touch her again. I can’t fuck her. I can’t kiss her. I can’t play with her. She’s already attached; I can’t make it worse for her. She has to realize it was just one night, nothing more.

  But damn, was it more.

  I expected my heart to close off while I fucked her. I expected my heart would break afterward because I would feel like it was far too soon. Odette is barely buried, and I’m already fucking another woman. I thought my guilt would be immense, and it would tear me apart.

  Instead, being with Rialta put me back together. Not fully, not enough, but the pieces started aligning. She was the thread carefully stitching me back together. I have no doubt that if I stayed with her, she’d eventually find all the pieces and put me back together until I was whole.

  I want Ri, but I don’t deserve her. She deserves so much better. I don’t know her past; I don’t know her history, but I know she’s the strongest Corsi—stronger than her father. All she needs is a way out.

  I close my eyes, knowing I’m going to need sleep to face tomorrow. But before I drift off, I make another vow. She didn’t want to make a deal with me. She wanted sex to be just sex—an ending to a connection we share that neither of us understands.