Royally Wicked Page 5

  Tension coils through me again.

  Sparks ignite, sizzling up and down my body.

  I can’t think. Once again the overwhelming pressure of my swelling need is almost unbearable. I burn. So hot.

  He fucks me harder, faster. And I can’t take another second.

  I explode, screaming as I tumble head-over-heels into ecstasy. His cock is so big. Swelling. Hard. He grabs my thighs, lifting them so he’s drilling to the deepest part of me. Still riding on unrelenting waves of tingling bliss, I arch my spine. Yes, deeper! Harder! Yes, yes, yes! My whole body throbs as I feel him cum. Electricity zaps. Heat swirls. He pounds into me, growling with each stroke. I take it. I take it all, gladly. His lust. His possession. His cum.

  Gradually his thrusts slow. The heat subsides. He collapses on top of me, his hips wedged between my thighs. His cock is still buried in my quivering pussy.

  I don’t know if every girl’s first time is like that. I’ve heard you never forget it.

  I’m absolutely certain I will never forget tonight.

  Pity the man who tries to follow up that act.

  When his dick is too soft to stay inside me, he flips over onto his back, pulls me against him, and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Did I live up to my promise?” he asks, his voice light with humor.

  “Hmmm,” I say, tipping my head to grin at him. “I can’t say yet. You did promise twelve hours of toe-curling orgasms. That was only one.”

  “If that’s the case, you’d better take a little catnap, princess,” he says as he slides a hand to the sticky juncture of my thighs. “Because you’re in for a long night.”

  Chapter 6

  Max

  I wake up to a glorious sight.

  My princess is sound asleep. Arms and legs akimbo.

  And she’s nude.

  Mouth salivating, I watch her sleep for a moment, her tits rising and falling as she breathes. I want to pull one of those little pink nipples into my mouth and suck it until she wakes. Then I want to dive between those creamy thighs and eat her pussy all day long.

  But I shouldn’t. If I lay one finger on that hot little body of hers I’m going to lose control, and I’m going to plunge my hard cock into her tight little cunt and fuck her again. She has to be sore after last night.

  No, I shouldn’t take the chance.

  Or should I?

  My dick twitches.

  Damn it. I want to bury myself in her sweet little body and never come out.

  I fall back on the bed, shut my eyes and fist my erection, giving it a slow swipe. I imagine it’s Riley’s dainty hand sliding up and down its length.

  But then there’s a soft touch to the head of my dick. A tongue flicking over the slit. Yes. Oh, fuck yes. My cock jerks. My insides quiver. I lift my eyelids just enough to catch my sweet princess sucking the head into her warm mouth.

  I groan. Holy shit, that feels good.

  That’s it. This girl is mine. All mine. Forever mine. No other man will ever touch her.

  Then she relaxes her throat and I sink balls deep. I practically launch off the bed. If she keeps this up, I’m going to cum all over her face. Or shoot my load down her throat. As much as I’d like to do either of those, I don’t want to waste a drop of my cum. I want to shoot it right into her womb, where I want it to take root and grow. I want this sweet little woman swollen with my child. I want the whole world to know she’s mine. I want to mark her in every way I can.

  Desperate to gain control, I grab her by the hair, pulling firmly but gently until only the head of my cock is in her mouth. I look at her and nearly melt. Her gorgeous face is a beautiful mask of lust, heavy eyelids partly concealing eyes shadowed with need.

  She needs me.

  And holy shit do I need her.

  I push now, forcing her to take me again, to the hilt. My toes curl. Her throat ripples around my cock as she swallows me. My balls tighten. I feel my cream pulsing at the base of my cock. I’m so close to cumming. Too close.

  As if she wants to torture me more, she cradles my balls in one palm and strokes the sensitive skin between my testicles and anus with the other hand.

  I grit my teeth. “Damn it, woman,” I pull her head up again then push it down. How easily she takes my girth. She may have been a virgin before last night but that doesn’t mean she didn’t have some skills in the bedroom. “Damn it.”

  My balls spasm and I yank harder. My dick pops out of her mouth just before I cum. I grab it at the base, applying pressure to keep my wad from channeling down my length. She reaches for it, but I bark, “No,” lurch upright, and knock her onto her back.

  “My turn,” I say. I grab her slender thighs roughly and shove them apart. Her pussy opens to my feasting eyes.

  Wet. Pink. Soft.

  Mine.

  I drag my tongue up her slit and she writhes.

  “Ohhh,” she says. Then she whimpers. It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

  I part her nether lips and feast on her, tongue dipping into her channel, lapping up all her honey. There’s nothing sweeter than my princess. Nothing more addicting either.

  I can’t stop eating her. Can’t stop. While my tongue dances over her clit, I shove two fingers into her tight little cunt then add a third, stretching her. I ram those fingers in and out, but she’s so wet, dripping wet, that I know it doesn’t hurt. She cums hard around my fingers, and still I don’t stop. I lick her clean and start again, slowly at first. Tongue circling her clit. Gently caressing it. Then faster, harder. This time I drag some of her slick juices toward her puckered anus and test it. She bucks, thrusting her hips high in the air.

  “Oh, yes. You like that, baby? I’ll teach you how to take my cock in that sweet ass someday,” I promise as I pump my finger in and out of her. She is trembling beneath me now, the ring of muscles gripping my finger like a vice. My cock rears up in protest, demanding some attention. I lift my head slightly to admire the sight of her wet pussy, my finger buried in her ass.

  Holy shit, I can’t take it. “Are you sore, baby? I want you so bad.”

  She grabs my hair in her little fists. “Please,” she murmurs.

  That’s all the convincing I need.

  I climb up her body, kissing my way up. I nip and nibble and lick her stomach, her tits, her collarbone and finally her mouth as I sink into her slick heat. Aware she is probably sore from last night’s fucking marathon, I go slow, easing in and out of her tight channel. She wraps her legs around my hips and moans, head thrown back. Damn, I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have such a gorgeous woman in my bed.

  And that’s where I intend to keep her. In my bed.

  Mine.

  I move slowly, but my passion builds. She’s so soft, so wet, and so responsive to my every touch, every stroke, every kiss. I devour her mouth like I devoured her pussy, savoring her sweet flavor. My senses are so intense now, every one of them. I taste her like I’ve tasted nothing in my life. I hear her moans and whimpers as clearly as if she were screaming. I feel her soft body molded to mine, her channel gripping my cock like a fist. And when she cums, I feel that too, the spasm of her pussy. The heat. I cum seconds later, my load spurting. I push as deep as I can, until the head of my dick is pressed against the entry to her womb. She milks me, sucking me in, drawing my seed into her.

  She is mine.

  And I am hers.

  All hers.

  I cradle her in my arms as we come down from the high of orgasm. She fits there so perfectly. She fits perfectly in every way. I have to have her. She has to agree to marry me.

  I savor the quiet contentment for as long as I can. I enjoy every second. Every fraction of a second. As she cuddles up against me, her silky hair fanned over my shoulder.

  I can’t believe how happy I am right now. That makes me even more determined to make her happy. I want her to be the most spoiled princess in the whole world.

  But first, I have to get her to agree to be my princess.

  And that
means I have to tell her who I am. What I am.

  I’d love to keep it like this. Simple. A man. A woman. But I’m not just any man. I’m the son of a king. And she won’t be just any woman if she marries me. She’ll be a princess.

  As if she can sense my nerves tugging tight, she hikes up on her elbow and smiles down at me. “You have got to be the best manwhore in the whole state of Nevada. Maybe the whole country. I don’t know what you do for a living, but you might want to consider a career change.” She winks. “I’m just kidding, of course.”

  Here’s my chance.

  It’s now or never.

  Time to lay it all out for her. And let the chips fall where they may.

  Fuck that. They’ll fall where I say they will.

  Riley is going to be my wife.

  “About that,” I say. “There’s something I need to tell you...”

  Chapter 7

  Riley

  I’ve just gone from totally relaxed, contented, dare I say it, happy to on edge.

  My manwhore’s just said he needs to tell me something. These kinds of confessions never turn out to be good.

  Is he truly a male prostitute? Is that the big secret he’s about to reveal?

  I hold my breath and try to brace for the worst, though I can’t even imagine what that might be.

  “I’m not just a random foreign tourist here to play a little poker. I’m a...” He visibly swallows. Holy shit, what have I done? Who is this guy? A foreign mob boss? A spy? What? “My full name is Maxim Alexandr Jakub Filip.”

  That’s a whole lot of names. Who has a name like that? Other than…

  “Duke of Drinova and...Prince of Belvaria,” he continues.

  “What?” I blurt. He didn’t just say...

  I did hear him right, didn’t I?

  Max is a fucking prince?

  My manwhore?

  Like…the son of a real life, live-in-a-castle king?

  What the hell?

  I’m confused. And angry.

  And embarrassed.

  Ohmygod! I’ve had a one-night stand with a real life prince.

  Why didn’t he tell me? He asked me to marry him, for crying out loud. Assuming that proposal wasn’t a joke, didn’t he figure his future wife deserved to know she’d be spending her every minute under public scrutiny?

  Wait...why would a prince ask some random girl to marry him, anyway? Didn’t they marry famous actresses? Or the daughters of high up muckety-mucks in their countries? Or models?

  The marriage proposal had to be a joke. Had to be.

  What a royal jerk!

  I scramble away, clawing at the bed, desperate to cover myself up. My face is burning so bad I’m afraid it’ll break out in blisters.

  “Wait!” The royal jerk grabs my arm.

  “Let go!” I shout.

  “No. Listen,” he demands.

  “I don’t want to hear another word.” I yank my arm, breaking free from his grip. My eyes are burning. I’m going to fucking cry! In front of this piece of poop, lying prince. I stab a finger at the door. “Get out!”

  “No. I won’t leave until I--”

  “Get the fuck out! Or I’ll call the police.” My heart is hammering against my ribcage. What the hell is wrong with this guy? Why is he making this worse? What could he possibly have to say that would make this okay? “I’m a nobody. Do you really have to rub that in my nose by dropping the stupid pretend marriage proposal? You know I would have slept with you without it. There was no need.”

  “That’s just it. It wasn’t a pretend proposal,” the lying prince says.

  “You’re nuts!” I palm my forehead. “Either you’re delusional and believe you’re a prince but you’re not, or you are a prince but you’re still certifiable. Lucky me, I found the crazy guy in Vegas.” I gather some clothes from my suitcase and stomp toward the bathroom. “When I’m done dressing, I expect you to be gone. If you’re not, then the police will escort you out.”

  I grab the bathroom doorknob.

  He grabs my arm. Again.

  “Asshole, let me go,” I growl through gritted teeth.

  “I’ll prove it to you.”

  “Fuck off.” I glare. “Let me go,” I repeat, jaw now clamped so tight it might snap. “What are you trying to do?”

  “I’m trying to...damn it.” He jams the fingers of his free hand through his hair. Aw, boo hoo. He’s frustrated. Because I don’t want to hear more of his lies. “You aren’t going to listen, are you?”

  “No.” I lock myself into the bathroom, slide down the door, and cup my face in my hands.

  “I’m overreacting,” I tell myself as I focus on breathing. “I was caught by surprise, and I’m feeling vulnerable because it was my first time...” My breathing slows. It’s true. I am feeling vulnerable. I didn’t know I would feel like this afterward. So confused. Guilty. Never mind the whole prince thing. That just adds another layer to my heaping mountain of emotion. “He’s probably some rich delusional guy who’s on vacation. Thus the posse. They’re here to keep him from getting himself into too much trouble.”

  My anger eases slightly.

  He probably wasn’t lying intentionally, I reason. I mean, there’s no reason to lie, right? He already got what he wanted. He got sex. That’s what guys generally lie to get.

  Yes, that must be it. He is a rich, hot, delusional man who thinks he’s a prince.

  My eyes clear up. My heart rate slows.

  I can forgive him.

  I stand, scoop up my clothes, and crank on the shower.

  I need to get cleaned up and then see if I....

  Crap, I just had unprotected sex with a mentally ill man. What kind of idiot am I?

  I crank on the hot water and scald myself as clean as I can get, soaping and scrubbing away the smell of sex. My girl parts are tender from all the friction they’ve suffered. Immediately memories of last night flood my mind.

  The sex was soooo hot. And so fun.

  If only this hadn’t happened.

  Just wonderful. Now my memories of my first time are going to be tainted.

  I should have just stayed home.

  I should have stayed a virgin.

  Sure, the sex felt good at the time. But now…

  I cut the water, dry off and pull on some comfy clothes. My panties rub at my tender bits every time I move.

  Yeah, this whole trip was a huge mistake.

  I guess I’m not cut out for the guilt-free, no-strings sex thing.

  I stare at the door.

  God, I hope he’s gone. I have no idea what to say to him.

  I blow dry my hair to kill another ten minutes or so then finally force myself to crack open the bathroom door to check.

  Gone. He’s gone.

  I pad barefoot to the bed and gather up my borrowed dirty slut dress, vowing to never wear anything like that again. I wad it up and toss it into the bag with my other dirty clothes. Then I eye the rumpled, used bed. It must reek of sex. I’m tired. Bone tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’d love to crawl into it and take a nap but I can’t.

  I strip the sheets off then climb on and close my eyes. I’ll take just a short nap. An hour or so. Then I’ll see about getting an earlier flight home.

  With any luck I’ll dream about something other than a certain guy who thinks he’s a prince.

  * * * * *

  Pounding? Is that what I hear?

  I lift my heavy eyelids.

  Yep. Someone is knocking on the door.

  Crap, it’s probably him.

  I smash the pillow over my head to try to drown out the racket. If I ignore him long enough, he’s bound to go away.

  I hope.

  Bang, bang.

  Go away.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  Go away, go away.

  Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.

  Go away, go away, go away!

  Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.

  Dammit!

  I peer through th
e peephole.

  It’s not him. It’s one of the guys from the elevator. He’s all knotted up in a suit, shirt and tie. Looks like some kind of high-priced bodyguard.

  Maybe, just maybe I’ll get the truth if I ask him.

  Do I want to know the truth?

  Maybe.

  Okay, yes. I do.

  I open the door. “Yes?”

  The man hands me an envelope. “His Grace, Maxim Alexandr Jakub Filip, Prince of Belvaria, requests your attendance at a private event tonight.”

  Really?

  “So you’re in on the joke too?” I roll my eyes. “Now I’m pissed! This has gone on long enough.” I try to slam the door, but the asshole blocks it. What the hell is wrong with these people? What are they trying to do? “What is this? Is it some sort of prank TV show? Is that what it is? Are there hidden cameras out here?”

  “Miss Hall, there are no cameras. And this is no joke. I assure you,” he says with a thick accent. He pulls something out of is pocket and hands it to me. It’s a folded up newspaper. “Today’s Las Vegas Sun.” He steps back, nods and then marches off, down the hall, leaving me standing there, in the doorway, mystified.

  What do I believe now? Is there any way it’s true? Could Max, my manwhore be a real prince?

  No. Girls like me do not meet European bachelor princes in hotel elevators. At least not in real life. Anything is possible in a movie or book. Because those are fantasy…

  I shake myself out of my stupor and close myself in my room. I sit on the edge of the bed and unfold the newspaper.

  An envelope falls into my lap. But I don’t pay attention to that yet. I’m too stunned to move.

  There, in big, bold letters, on the first page, the headline reads, “Prince Maxim of Belvaria Attending Charity Event.” And just below the headline, a photograph.

  Of a guy with dark hair. And a deep shadow of stubble coating his jaw. And sharp cheekbones and carved hollows that make him look like he is carved of stone. And a mouth that makes my insides clench.

  My manwhore.

  Holy shit.

  The newspaper could be fake. It isn’t difficult to print up something like this. But why go to that much trouble?