by Madison Faye
A private show on Heartthrob Cams is fifty bucks for half an hour - stackable for as long as the girl wants to keep doing a show for. At each half-hour, she can collect what you’ve pre-deposited onto the site.
…I’d put down fifty thousand dollars.
Three weeks. I’d bought three weeks, alone with her. No scummy pieces of shit cat-calling her. No one else looking at her. No other eyes watching her as she performed for me and me only.
Mine.
My pretty little bad girl.
My dirty little secret
Pretty. Dirty. And all mine.
Find the whole book right here on Amazon!
Possessing Beauty
Copyright © 2017 Madison Faye
All rights reserved.
Cover: Coverlüv
Photography: Wander Aguiar
Models: Zack Salaun & Hailey Petsinger
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.
This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains extremely sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18.
All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.
Possessing Beauty
It’s time to teach this royal brat a lesson she’ll never forget.
I know the rules
I know sweet, sassy little princesses like her are strictly off-limits to rough and tumble, non royals like myself. I know that even though I’ve made billions with nothing but these two strong hands and an iron will, they’ll say I’m no good for her.
They might be right, but that won’t stop me.
I’ve been watching Princess Colette for longer than she knows. The mouthy little spitfire’s been tempting me, and a man can only take so much.
I’ve waited patiently, hungering for her sweet curves. I’ve told myself that she’s too young for me, or too innocent – that she’s too untouched for me to touch.
But when I find out about this “suitor’s ball” in the next kingdom over, and about some snot-nosed little prince thinks he can marry her up instead of me, I’m not waiting any longer.
Fuck the rules, and the hell with what they’ll say. I’ve denied myself long enough, and it’s time to show this princess how a man takes what’s his.
I’ll treat her like a princess, but I’ll claim her like a queen.
*Please note that each of the Possessing Beauty books are completely standalone stories centered around one couple, with no cliffhangers.
Hang onto your jewels - it’s finally here! Possessing Beauty is a quick and steamy modern fairytale involving an utterly obsessed alpha hero and enough insta-love, kindle-melting steam, and sugary-sweetness to make you swoon for more. If you love over-the-top, slightly unrealistic, and wildly dirty stories, this one’s for you! HEA with NO CHEATING!
Author’s Note
You asked, and I finally listened ;). At long last, welcome to the fifth and long awaited book 5 in the Possessing Beauty series!
Please note that the books in this series are made to be read in any order, and can all be read as standalones. However, your enjoyment of the series might be enhanced by reading them in the original order - Beasting Beauty, Stealing Beauty, Sharing Beauty, Hunting Beauty, and then of course, this one!
Thank you so freaking incredibly much for your support, and thanks for your patience with this series!
Happy reading!
<3,
Madison
1
Colette
Where the HELL is my dress?
I muttered to myself as I stomped around my walk-in closet, my brow furrowed. This was just what I needed right now. I was already running late to the dinner I never wanted to go to in the first place, to meet the man I had no interest in meeting, and here I was strutting around my closet in just a pair of panties looking for my dress.
The princess without a gown — it was like some sort of messed up fairytale no one had ever heard of, or would ever want to.
I groaned, puffing bursts of air through my lips as I scowled at the complete disarray of my closet. I sighed heavily, pushing my hands through my hair and turning to catch sight of myself in the big floor-length mirror. There was no time for anything elaborate with my hair besides pushing it back from my face, not that I cared to do anything with it for this stupid dinner. I already knew my mother was going to make a stink — even if it was a silent one with one of her looks — about the state of it given the importance of this dinner, but I didn’t care. My hair not being up and in some elaborately “princess-y” look like she would have wanted could be my own little middle finger to this whole thing.
“This whole thing” being, the dinner where I was to meet my soon-to-be-husband. My arranged marriage.
Oh, and he was the second.
The first guy my mother auctioned me off to, Prince Scott of Kadmire, was, well, not who I’d have ever picked to marry. Or date. Or have a drink with. Actually, Prince Scott wasn’t even someone I’d choose to share any sort of proximity with at all. The prince had a horrible reputation of being smug, creepy, arrogant, womanizing, and basically all the other worst traits of a prince you could think of. But then, I was no longer marrying Prince Scott, because someone new had stepped in.
And that’s who I was meeting that night.
Yeah, welcome to my life. Nineteen, royal, and next in line to inherit the throne in the Kingdom of Cordone, and here I was about to meet a man I’d never met before who was going to be my husband. You’d have thought this was the freaking dark ages, and not modern times, but there you go.
At the heart of all this crap was my mother, who’s gold-digging ways had finally caught up with her. With us, actually. You see, when my father had been alive, our kingdom had flourished, as it had for generations. But after his passing, my mother had gone on a long streak of younger, shitty men who probably really only ever wanted her — our — money. She was older now, though, which meant the younger men had stopped coming around. Which was fine, because by then, the Kingdom of Cordone was on the verge of bankruptcy.
So my mother had decided to cash in her last chip: me.
Nineteen, groomed for a life of royalty, of pure noble blood — oh, right, and that one other tiny little detail: the fact that I’d never dated. The fact that I’d never even been on a single date with a guy. Let’s put it bluntly: my mother wasn’t just marrying me off to some rich guy to balance her failing checking accounts. She was selling my virginity to do it, and honestly, she hadn’t even hid that detail as part of the deal.
Prince Scott had been loathsome, though certainly rich. This new guy though? Ugh. He was probably worse. Richer, for sure, which is how he’d gotten my mother to go back on her deal with Prince Scott in favor of him, but I could only imagine how much of a lecherous old creep he probably was.
Rourke Cannon.
I mean, he wasn’t even royalty. Rich beyond belief, yes, but not a prince, or a king, or even a duke or anything like that. I mean, I didn’t care at all about that sort of thing. I didn’t give a shit about the whole who’s who of the royal world. But God did my mother, and the fact that she was selling me off to a guy who wasn’t of the world spoke loudly. I knew nothing about him. In fact, google even knew nothing about him. The man wasn’t on social media at all, which already pointed to an age north of seventy. In fact, the only t
hing you could find about him online was that his company, which had something to do with mining operations, was basically killing it.
My scowl deepened as I stomped into my bedroom, tossing the sheets from my bed as if my gown might be hiding there for some reason. No luck.
I’d spent my whole life “waiting” and “saving myself” for the “right” man. Nineteen, and I’d never been with a guy. But I was going to be. And probably soon, too, with this mysterious old Rourke guy, and all to settle a bunch of debts. I mean, how screwed up is that?
I grumbled to myself, hissing profanities as I stomped around the room, before suddenly, a lightbulb went off in my head.
Study.
That’s where I’d left my dress hanging after the seamstress had finished the alterations on it. My quarters in the palace were huge, and included a walk-in closet and a master bath attached. But my study, or office, or small library, or whatever you wanted to call it, was across the hall from my bedroom. That’s where I’d been when Mrs. Wilkes, the palace seamstress had brought me the dress after she was done with it.
I huffed, glancing at the clock and at how late I was as I stomped towards my bedroom door. I was still basically nude, but it didn’t matter. I had the whole high south tower to myself, and any guards posted would be at the bottom of the stairs anyways.
Rourke Cannon. The name burned through my head as I marched across the room. He was probably old. And gross. And pervy. I mean why else was he buying a girl however many decades younger than him to be his own personal… I felt my stomach heave and I shook my head.
Who knew. Maybe I could just exist in his castle or mansion or whatever and just live out my lame life locked in my room being bored, away from my old, wrinkly, gross—
I yanked my bedroom door open, strode through, and shrieked.
I screamed as I immediately tumbled into a person, my body falling right into his and my hands pressing to hard, muscled chest. Strong, powerful arms wrapped around me, keeping me from falling and pulling me close to him. I shrieked again, but when I looked up, my whole world froze.
Whoa.
The man was gorgeous. He towered above my smaller frame, his broad, muscled shoulders and powerful looking chest and arms straining at the crisp white shirt and dinner jacket. Intense gray eyes burned right into my baby-blues, and when that chiseled, powerful looking jaw pulled into a slight, tight smile, I freaking melted.
Holy crap this guy was hot.
Hot, grinning, and holding my basically nude body against his.
With another shriek, I quickly shoved away from him, covered myself with both hands, darted past him, and went crashing into my study, slamming the door shut behind me. I panted, my heart racing and my breath catching in my throat as I sank back against the door and closed my eyes.
2
Colette
“I don’t know who the hell you are, but you’re in big trouble for being up here!” I shouted through the door as I yanked my dress over my head and tugged it down. I glanced in the wall mirror I had hanging in here, my face bright red and fuming with a mix of embarrassment and raw desire. I swallowed thickly, pulling my hair back from my face and smoothing the light pink dress down over my body.
“You’re late, Princess.”
The man’s dark, smoky, baritone purred through the door. Instantly, I could feel my body react — my skin teasing with heat and my pulse skipping as his sexy as sin voice crooned through the door.
“Look, I don’t know who the hell you think you are or how you even got up here, but you’re going to be in big trouble when I—”
“Are you dressed yet?”
The door suddenly opened wide, and I gasped as the tall, dark, gorgeous mystery man strode right into the room.
“Are you insane?” I gasped, balking at him.
“You’re dressed. Good.” A small hint of a smile teased his lips. “As I said, you’re late to dinner.”
“Did my mother send you or something?” I spit, shoving past him and marching back into my bedroom to grab my shoes.
“Or something.”
I turned and gave him as much of a sassy look as I could, but it faltered, badly, under that hot, scorching, smoky look of his. Jesus, this had to be the hottest new assistant aid or guard my mother had ever hired.
He stood in the doorway to my room, muscled arms crossed over his barrel chest as he watched me slip my shoes on. I finished and stomped towards the door, but he stood his ground, grinning at me and raising a brow, as if he was amused at how much of a huff I was in. His eyes teased over me, like he was memorizing every inch of me — making me shiver and bringing a heat to my skin that quickly tickled it’s way to my chest and face. His jaw twitched, and his grin turned downright hungry as he drank me in, making my core tighten and sending a tingly feeling to places I knew it shouldn’t.
And he didn’t bow. He knew who I was, since he’d just called me princess, but he just stood there, clearly mentally tearing my clothes off and turning me into a simmering puddle instead of bowing like everyone always did around here.
I blushed furiously and quickly cleared my throat.
“Um, excuse me.”
“Yes?” He seemed amused by my words.
I sighed. Okay, gorgeously hot or not, not only was he not bowing to royalty, but he was making me even later to this trainwreck of a dinner I had to get to. He was completely blocking the doorway.
“I— I have to get by,” I said quickly.
The man nodded and moved about one inch to the side before he glanced at me, grinned wolfishly and shrugged.
“After you.”
What’s he want me to do, just squeeze on by him?
The blush roared in my face at the thought. God, I almost wanted to, and for a second, I almost did just squeeze past this hard, chiseled, beautiful piece of man, before I got a firm hold of myself.
No way. For one, because that would be so un-royal of me, but for two, I’d already made myself late enough to meeting my stupid new husband-to-be dilly dallying with this smug, cocky new palace aid, or whoever the heck he was.
I cleared my throat again and scowled at him as I squared my shoulders, hands on my hips.
“I said excuse me,” I said testily.
“You’re excused.”
He grinned, which was both infuriating and panty-meltingly hot, which sent a very mixed message to my brain.
“You do know who I am, right?” I spat.
“I have an idea.”
“And?”
He shrugged, grinning.
“A spoiled little princess.”
My jaw dropped.
“I beg your pardon?!”
He chuckled. “You heard me.”
“Get out of my way!”
I gasped as he suddenly moved very close to me, growling and sending a shiver through my whole body as he turned me and backed me into the open door at my back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I hissed, my voice trembling as the nearness of him sent a hot tremor through my body.
“Whatever I want, Princess,” he growled.
And I whimpered. Goddamnit I actually whimpered, out loud. And he definitely heard it.
My face turned bright red as I quickly tried to push past him.
“I have to go,” I hissed quickly,
“Yeah? Where?”
I sighed heavily, curling my lip at the arrogant, rude man in front of me. “I’m meeting someone very important.”
He smirked. “Oh?”
“Yes,” I spit back, shivering at that heat in his gaze.
“Who?”
“My husband,” I sneered
He arched a curious brow, and I quickly backpedaled.
“My soon-to-be husband.”
“Soon-to-be,” he mimicked back. “So, you’re not married.”
I shivered as he suddenly moved closer again.
“I—”
“Here,” his arm slid around my shoulders, and it took everything in m
y power not to whimper again.
“I’ll walk you to this new husband of yours.”
“I don’t want you to do tha—”
I gasped as his strong, powerful hand suddenly slid down my back, and then down over my hip to cup my ass firmly.
“Yes you do,” he growled in my ear.
I bit my lip sharply, my pulse racing though my body as this beautiful stranger started to walk me down the stairs from my quarters. We walked in silence, his hand never leaving my body as he led me through the hallways and gilded rooms of the palace.
“So who’s this husband?”
“I— I don’t know him.”
I wanted to punch myself. Why the heck had I just told him that?
“Marrying a guy you don’t know?”
I wanted to backpedal, and lie or something, but instead, all I could do was nod.
God his hand feels so good.
He squeezed my ass through my thin dress, making me whimper softly as heat roared through me.
“But he at least fucks you good, right?”
I blush furiously.
“That’s very inappropriate,” I hissed, my face burning.
“It’s a legitimate question. You’re the one marrying the guy you don’t know. I’m just curious if at the very least, he can treat you like the princess you are in bed.”
“I— I—” Heat teased through me as I looked at my slippered feet. I had no idea who this man was, but here I was letting him — quite willingly — put his hand on my ass, and say all these filthy, highly inappropriate things to me.
“I don’t know,” I finally spit out.
My gorgeous stranger stopped us in our tracks.
“You don’t know?”
He turned towards me, and I gasped as his hand came up to touch my chin. He lifted my head up, until his eyes burned right into mine, sending a lightning bolt right through me.