Royal Wrecker: Barnes Family Romances Book 4

by Alleman, Normandie

  It was more than I’d ever dreamed of. Not at all like the tipsy, lust-filled night that got us here.

  If only this were real, it would be the best way to lose my virginity possible.

  Unfortunately, I had already technically lost my virginity, and this man didn’t love me.

  In fact, he’d be out of my life in a matter of months.

  When he reached the big, luxurious bed, he lay me down with a frown.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  I forced a smile. “Yes.”

  “Okay.” He didn’t look convinced.

  “No, please. I’m fine. Continue.” As soon as the words left my mouth I wanted them back.

  Continue? What was I, a testing monitor directing students to proceed to the next page?

  But Leo didn’t seem to notice.

  He lay down next to me and began exploring my body, first with his hands, caressing every inch of me.

  Then he used his mouth to touch me all over, and there were places he touched that no one had ever touched before.

  Practically everything he did to me was new.

  When I occasionally tensed up, he’d whisper, “Relax. Trust me.”

  I forced myself to get out of my head and just be present for the experience.

  It took some time for me to be able to let go and enjoy the delicious sensation of his skin touching mine, but once I did, it was like opening the doors to a world of pleasure I’d never known before.

  His fingers skimmed over my breasts, making my nipples hard and eager for more. Then he took each one in his mouth, giving it copious amounts of attention—licking, nipping, sucking until my hips began to do an involuntary dance.

  A hand cupped my pussy possessively, and I couldn’t help but buck against it.

  Sensing my need, he slipped a finger gently inside me, and I heard myself moan in response.

  His fingers moved from deep inside me to stroking the whole of my sex, and each time they reached the apex, I squirmed and cried out in delight.

  Immersed in what he was doing, I forgot my inhibitions and opened my legs wider for him.

  “Good girl,” he whispered in my ear.

  His words sent a shiver of desire through my body, resonating at my core.

  Then before I could protest, he pressed his hands against my thighs, spreading them as wide as they would go before dropping his head between them.

  Panic began to blossom in my belly, and I fought to close my legs.

  This was too intimate. I couldn’t have him looking upon me like that.

  I barely knew him.

  I felt too exposed.

  He kissed my inner thigh lightly as he held my legs firmly.

  “You are so beautiful, Honoré. Let me.”

  So tender was his voice and so powerful was his hold on me, that once again, I relaxed. Somehow, trusting this stranger who was my husband.

  His mouth descended on my wet pussy, and the sensation caused by his velvet tongue was pure bliss.

  Magic fingers worked in tandem with that incredible mouth to bring me to the very edge of sanity several times.

  I writhed and moaned under his touch. My head thrashed from side to side on the pillow, and I gripped the silky sheets with one fist, while twining my fingers in his hair with my other hand.

  But before I could find satisfaction, he stopped and announced, “I want you to come on my dick, princess.”

  The next thing I knew, he hovered over me, his cock throbbing hot against my clit.

  “Are you sure you want this?” he growled.

  The head of his penis traveled lower, hovering just outside my opening.

  I wanted him so badly, I felt lightheaded.

  “Yes, dammit.” Gripping his ass, I pulled him inside me.

  He let out a groan as he entered me.

  It burned as I stretched to accommodate his intrusion, and I gasped as he filled me.

  “I can stop if you want me to.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  His lips crushed down on mine, and I opened for him.

  My tongue explored his mouth, and I lifted my hips to meet his next thrust.

  I wanted him to know that I was all in. I needed him to teach me.

  He had gotten me so close to orgasm with his mouth and fingers that it only took a few thrusts before everything fell away into a wild explosion of pleasure. The world seemed to crash down around me in the most magnificent way. Shards of multicolored arrows of ecstasy flew by my closed eyes and pierced my pounding heart.

  For what seemed like forever my body drifted on a sea of pleasure, the thrilling waves acting like a tide, ebbing then building, building then breaking against the shore and crashing and shaking my body until there was nothing I could do but lie there, helpless and filled with extreme happiness.

  After a long time, I began to come back to reality where I realized Leo’s hips still pumped in and out of me. His strong and powerful strokes had done that to me.

  Fuck. My husband was a sex god.

  “Mmm,” I purred, wiggling under him.

  “You’re back. God, I thought I’d fucked you senseless.”

  I nodded. “I think you did.”

  “God, you’re amazing,” he crooned in my ear then pushed deep inside me with one last thrust before he stilled.

  I felt him fill me with his warm essence, and I held him tightly, wanting him to stay inside me forever.

  But when he finally did pull out and rested next to me, I experienced an emptiness I couldn’t have imagined a few minutes before.

  “You’re incredible,” Leo murmured, his arm around me.

  “You too,” I said, but I was met by a small snoring noise.

  He’d fallen asleep already?

  I hoped I hadn’t bored him.

  Then in the back of my mind, a tiny voice told me we’d forgotten to use birth control, and I came back to reality.

  Leo and I weren’t really married. We were two irresponsible people playing a silly game.

  The sound of his soft snores next to me suddenly felt all wrong.

  I untangled myself from his grasp, and scooted to my side of the bed.

  Hugging the side, I covered myself with the blankets and tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep.

  11

  Leo

  I woke up naturally, not to some blasted alarm, which was nice.

  Must be a slow day for production.

  Suddenly, I remembered last night.

  The memory of my bride writhing underneath me, coming over and over again, sent a jolt of lust through me until my morning wood was so hard it was uncomfortable.

  Damn. Who knew the princess would be so hot blooded?

  So responsive.

  The night that started all this I knew she was smokin’ hot, but I had no idea she’d be this amazing.

  I reached over for her, smiling to myself, pleased that she was in the bed next to me.

  It was where she belonged.

  I really was a lucky man.

  I placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered, “Good morning.”

  She seemed really asleep, and maybe I should have let her stay that way, but the stiff rod between my legs was in complete disagreement.

  I was already imagining a repeat performance of the night before when she looked over her shoulder groggily and gave me and unenthusiastic, “Hey,” then yanked the covers up around her neck.

  Okaaay.

  Not exactly the response I expected, but maybe she wasn’t a morning person.

  I'd bring her around.

  Next I scooted over so that I was spooning her and giving her full appreciation of my erection. Not poking her rudely in the back.

  More like resting gently against her lower back and those delicious ass cheeks.

  “Okay, okay.” Her eyes flew open. “I gotta go to the bathroom. She practically flew out of the bed and into the bathroom, where I heard the distinct click of a lock.

  It registered then
that during the night she had put on a nightgown. From what I’d seen in that flash as she blew past me, it was pretty, made of some silky material.

  It looked like it would feel good to touch, but she ran into the bathroom before I had a chance to find out.

  Not knowing how long she would be, I made my way down the hall to the other bathroom and tried to relieve myself there. It was always such a bitch to piss with a raging erection, but it had to be done.

  I padded back into the other room to find Honoré sitting on the end of the bed, this time with a robe atop her nightgown.

  Naked and feeling underdressed, and sensing that my wife wasn't really in the mood for morning sex, I decided not to press the issue. I opened the closet and donned the hotel's terrycloth robe.

  “Hungry?” I asked.

  “Famished. I was thinking of ordering some room service. Today's a travel day. I think we have time.” She was looking at her phone. I assumed checking the schedule.

  “We’re leaving?” I asked. I was the kind who just let my assistant tell me every morning what that day had in store.

  I liked living life spontaneously, and since I didn't have the opportunity to plan my own spontaneity very often, I tried to trick my brain into thinking that because I didn't know what was going to happen every day in advance, it was always something of a surprise. Weird, I know.

  My sister Ivy was always commenting on what a lunatic I was when it came to schedules, but I didn’t care. I had a team of people, and I knew they would make sure I was in the right place at the right time every time, so it was never on me to manage my schedule.

  It wasn't like I had control over it in the first place.

  “Yes. We have a flight at four p.m. to Iceland.”

  “Iceland? Hey, that sounds cool. Have you ever been?”

  “Yes, I've been a couple of times.”

  “Isn't something about Iceland where the names of Iceland and Greenland are supposed to be mixed or something like that? I think I learned of the like at school.”

  Honoré laughed. “I don't know. I think that might be a myth. Iceland gets pretty freaking cold.”

  “Shall I call for room service?”

  She nodded.

  We ordered our breakfast then sat there waiting for it perched in two opposite-facing chairs in the living room. Both our heads stayed buried in our phones in that companionable way that millennials tend to do, much to our parents’ annoyance.

  “Hey, have you seen Whiteside’s latest post?” I asked.

  “Who's that?” she asked.

  “Basketball player. Never mind. He's just funny. He’s at the Louvre. Cracking me up.”

  I wondered who she followed, what made her laugh, what her feed looked like.

  It was weird.

  Sometimes, I felt like we had a lot in common, but times like this, I was never more aware that she had grown up in a completely different country with a completely different culture.

  In Martinovia, they had different rules, different food, different music…

  So many things in her world made me feel like we were poles apart.

  Would we really be able to relate to each other? I didn't know, but the silence between us was a little more uncomfortable, until it was finally broken by a knock at the door.

  I went to open it.

  The waiter brought in a table on wheels and set everything up for us. When I signed the bill, he requested an autograph. I told him no problem, signed a page off the hotel notebook, and then he left.

  As we sat at the table, Honoré asked, “Does that get old?”

  “What?”

  “Signing autographs.”

  “I don't know.” I shrugged. “I’ve been doing it all my life. It makes people happy. Probably like you being royalty. How’s that for you?”

  She shrugged. “People don't ask me for my autograph. We don't really do that kind of thing. It’s against protocol.”

  I laughed. “Lucky you.”

  She smiled, but I could tell she didn't want to.

  Something was bothering her, and I wanted to find out what it was.

  “Hey, last night….”

  Her eyes grew wide. “That was nice.”

  “Okay, that's what I thought too, but this morning… You seemed kind of upset.”

  “I'm not upset,” she said too quickly. “It’s just important for us to remember that this is a limited-time arrangement, that's all.”

  And just like that, the hot-blooded woman I’d bedded the night before morphed into an ice queen.

  “Okay, well if that's all it is.”

  “That's all it is,” she said matter-of-factly, buttering a bite of toast.

  We ate our breakfast in silence for a few minutes. She picked at some fruit and warm cereal that looked like mush, while I devoured a hearty plate of waffles and a three-egg western omelet.

  Honoré's body language was very closed off. Her brisk demeanor was really getting to me, so I decided to try more conversation. Maybe I could get her to thaw.

  I didn't like this side of her, this cold Honoré. I wanted back the girl I'd been with the night before, and not just to fuck her.

  I was determined to find her again. “So, you’ve been to Iceland. What’s it like?”

  “Well, from our itinerary I see there will be some glaciers. Those are beautiful, and there's this huge waterfall we’ll probably see. And this sounds interesting—if weather permits, we’re going to try to see the Northern Lights. Have you ever seen those?”

  “No, that sounds bad ass. Have you?”

  “No. But I'm dying to, and they have this odd little bubble hotel that your mom has us staying in.”

  I laughed. “A bubble hotel? What the fuck is that?”

  Honoré laughed, and I was pleased to see I broke through her glass wall.

  “It's this see-through, round thing that has a bed inside it. But you can see out of it completely so you feel like you're in the middle of the woods, in the wilderness, in the snow. Then at night, you can see millions of stars. I think it’s called the Million Stars Motel or something.”

  “That sounds wild.” I hated to give Lucinda credit, but what Honoré was describing sounded awesome.

  “I mean, it's kind of weird that it's a bubble, but it's not like everything we’re doing here isn’t in a bubble anyway, right?” she asked.

  “Right. So it’s perfect.”

  “The one thing about it that concerns me is—how can they possibly keep you warm in there?”

  “Aw, don't worry about that, girl. I'll keep you warm.” I gave her my sexiest grin.

  She returned a little smile, but it was going to take more than one conversation to get her back to where we were the night before. But I had no intention of giving up.

  “I think I’m going to take a shower now.” Honoré got up from the table.

  Even though I would've liked to have gone with her, I knew from the way she'd been acting it would be stupid of me to ask.

  So as soon as she closed the door of the bathroom behind her, I called the security guys and told them I wanted to go to the fucking gym.

  I needed to get out some of the testosterone building up inside me any way I could.

  I’d had enough of trying to understand women for one morning.

  12

  Leo

  Between our trips to Egypt and Iceland, my mother had us go to New York for a couple of days to tape confessionals—those television shots where they have you in full makeup talking to the camera, or the audience, as it were, about events that have already been taped.

  The whole thing was new to Honoré, but she was a natural from what I saw of her taping hers.

  After she wrapped her scenes for the day, I was going to ask her what she wanted to do for dinner, and I overheard her talking to one of the makeup artists.

  “Those earrings are so cute,” Honoré said. “Where did you get them?”

  “Target,” the makeup artist, whose name was Gwen, repli
ed.

  Gwen was covered from head to toe in tattoos and had a tongue piercing. I thought it was cute that Honoré was asking about her earrings. She was so down to earth, such a real person. Not what most people would expect from a princess.

  “Cool. Thanks.” Honoré touched Gwen’s arm then noticed me and strode toward me.

  “Hey,” she said, then lowering her voice whispered, “Where’s Target?”

  I squinted to see if she was fucking with me. But nope, didn’t appear that she was.

  “You don’t know about Target?”

  “No.” There was a warning look in her eye for me not to tease her.

  “It’s a big box store. They have everything from bananas to Christmas trees to gamer stuff to bathing suits. Basically, if you can think of it, they probably sell it.”

  “Oh. I haven’t been shopping very much. We always have people do that for us.”

  “Yeah, I get that. But it’s fun.”

  “Fun?” Her brows formed a “v”.

  “Yeah. Put on a disguise, or at least a hat and sunglasses and go shop like most people do. Have you never done this before?”

  “Not really. Not to do something so mundane as go shopping.”

  I shook my head. “Oh, you’re missing out. Going to a big box store is a freaking blast. They have so much crap in there.”

  She eyed me skeptically.

  “Trust me. Borrow a wig or a hat from your wardrobe people, and tomorrow we’ll do it.”

  “But what about shooting?”

  “I’ll fake a sore throat or something.”

  “Are you sure that will work?”

  “Trust me, if there’s anything my mother will shut down production for, it’s my voice.”

  13

  Honoré

  Leo was true to his word.

  The next morning, he phoned production to tell them he had a sore throat, and within an hour a doctor knocked at our door.

  Leo threw on a bathrobe and let him in.

  Curious, I got up after he left the bedroom and threw on a robe too.

  They sat in the living room, and the doctor began to examine Leo while I hovered in the doorway, unsure if I should join them.