Royally Yours: A Bad Boy Baby Romance Page 7

  Ever since he’d walked through that metal door and into our photo shoot, before anyone else had seen who he was, I had seen. I had known. And with every fiber of my being, I had wanted him, wanted this. I’d dreamed of it, touched myself to it, and now as his hands swooped to their next victim, my panties, I was getting exactly what I had asked for.

  My matching red lace G-string fared better than my bralette. It was snapped off and away in one impatient grab. I didn’t know where it ended up, but I did know where I ended up: belly down on the bed, ass up. One of Charles’s hands caressed my tits while the other one enjoyed my ass cheeks.

  “You want it,” he murmured into the back of my neck, “don’t you?”

  Before I could even think about what he meant, the snap against my ass made his question clear. The smack of the leather pained pleasure through me, from my ass to the mound between my legs that was swelling with every passing second.

  “Don’t you?” his cruel voice asked again, repeating the gesture.

  This slammed my unwilling answer out of my lips: “No. Yes.”

  One of the words was a lie, but Charles knew that already. Chuckling darkly, he slipped his fingers through my hair and pulled my head back.

  With his other hand, he dipped a finger into my now-sopping pussy and asked, “Which one is it?”

  His skillful finger didn’t wait for my reply. It pumped and pumped and pumped me, sending thrills of pleasure throttling every which way. Oh fuck.

  Once he got me writhing, Charles stopped with no warning. He went from being everywhere to nowhere. I was alone on the bed, alone with a pussy burning for more touch, for the release it so desperately needed.

  I twisted my head back to protest, but the light snapped off. Then Charles was once again on top of me, pinning me down, his hand on my neck and his warm, merciless growl in my ear. “Which one is it?”

  He pinched one nipple and then the other. He bobbed his finger in my pussy, just once. And then came the riding crop. He danced it over my back lightly in ticklish flicks. When he inserted it between my ass cheeks, I shoved up my ass with my answer: “More.”

  Half a second later, the black leather snapped down on my lower ass cheek victoriously.

  Thwup!

  As my body trembled with joy, Charles slunk his hand over my head.

  “I knew you’d like it, you filthy slut.”

  As his fingers played with my pussy lips, his other hand dragged the crop from cheek to cheek, teasing me until I said the magic word, the word I could barely remember now that everything was pure sensation: “More.”

  It was choked out, desperate, half whine and half plea.

  And yet, Charles understood.

  Thwup!

  At the same time, he shoved a vibrator against my clit. The trembling riddled my very core. Oh. My. God.

  The vibrator drilling my pleasure into me deeper combined with the aftershocks of the riding crop had me practically panting.

  Not to mention that as he pressed and rolled the vibrator around the nub of my clit, Charles danced his fingers into me. One and then two. And then three. All stroking, all intensifying the nerve-frying pleasure that had me stapled to the bed, spread-eagled, gargling like some inhuman wretch.

  I wasn’t on the edge; my whole body was dangling off it, one finger holding on for dear life. Part of me was afraid of letting this release fully take hold, but I hoisted my pussy forward onto the vibrator, onto his fingers. The nonsensical syllables spilling out of me fused into one note of wailing request.

  Just when I was one finger pump away from coming, Charles took it all away: the vibrator, his fingers. My release died as quickly as it had been set upon me.

  “No,” was all my grieving body could think to bleat.

  Again that painstaking head pat.

  “You’ll come when I want you to.”

  The next second, he was inside me, piercing me from behind, ramming my face into the pillows and jamming my pussy was such vigor, I didn’t think I could take it. Sensation this big, thrusts this pitiless, seemed like they could only break me.

  My moans were shadows of their former selves, almost mechanical, because my body was practically all fucked out. It was flooded with pleasure, swollen with longing. Thoughts were a thing long of the past. All that had been left by Charles’s merciless stoking of my edge was this, this one overarching, all-consuming need.

  “More,” I croaked, more out of memory than anything.

  Charles twisted himself out of me, flung me around, and grabbed both my legs. He lifted my pelvis to him so my feet were on his shoulders, my legs resting against his taut chest. He drilled me with everything he had, so fast and hard that my head slammed into the wooden backboard of the bed. The dull ache it produced registered only as a minor annoyance.

  Everything was sensation now, rhythm, on and on, deep and deeper. We swirled our hips together, adjusting the angle every few slaps. Our bodies were smeared all over each other. Groans oozed out of my mouth. The odd pleased grunt came out of Charles’s.

  One of my eyes peeked open. In the almost pitch darkness, I could still make out the trace of his jubilant smile, the absolute fervor in his sapphire eyes.

  And then my body shut down. My eyes closed. My breath left me. And as Charles pumped me with his joyous river, I came.

  Orgasm was too weak a word for it. Release was an absolute laugh. This was nothing short of life-altering, expectation-shattering, heaven on earth if there ever was one.

  Everything suddenly made sense to me. Dreaming about Charles for so many years, then finally running into him in London. All of it was for me, here, now, this. This perfection of an orgasm incarnate.

  We fell apart. I might’ve been crying. I might’ve been doing a lot of things. All I knew was that he was cradling me in his arms and whispering things to me I would be able to hear eventually.

  The first that made its way through the pleasure screen was: “How did I find you?”

  “At the popsicle shoot, of course,” I answered vaguely.

  I wasn’t sure why he chuckled at that, but he did.

  Gradually, our kisses and words died down. It occurred to me that it was past time to go. When I extricated myself from his arms and got off the bed, Charles took a long, relishing look at me before he asked, “Going so soon?”

  “You know we both have places to be,” I reminded him.

  His full lower lip quirked into a half smile as he rose.

  “Right you are. We can leave separately as we did last time.”

  I nodded, picking up my dress.

  “But first, one thing,” he said as he caught me by the wrist.

  Over my shoulder, his smile was actually electrifying.

  “I have to see you again.”

  The demand riddled in his words set up a trail of goose bumps snaking down my arm.

  I replied with the tamest words my lips could form: “I’d like that.”

  Chapter 11

  Charles

  What was Heidi doing right now?

  My lips curled into a vague smile as I closed my eyes. Maybe she was in the bath, each one of her soft strands coated with glistening spheres of bubbles. Or she was at some juicy photo shoot, clad in a bra and panties that would be boner-inducing on sight. Or maybe—even better—she was curled up in her silky bedsheets, a vibrator pressed between her legs as she squeezed her eyes tight with the image of us from last night.

  My eyes snapped open as I clamped my lips shut. No way was I going to groan and alert my brother to what was going on. If I did that, then I’d have to admit to him that I, in all my brilliance, hadn’t even made a follow-up date with her yet.

  A nudge to my arm brought me back to the present.

  “Uh, I hate to do this, but as our future king and all, you should probably be the one waving to all these people who are passing by,” Henry reminded me.

  “You’re right of course,” I said, returning my gaze to where it should have been, namely on the s
idewalks we were passing.

  Since we were on an off-the-cuff jaunt in a horse-drawn carriage, as recommended by Father, I figured most of these people weren’t exactly counting on a wave from yours truly, but if I was going to be sitting out here in the scalding sun on a nice Monday afternoon when I could be napping or eating strawberries or any other more pleasant activity, I might as well make the most of it.

  “I’m right—of course,” Henry said, trying out the words himself. He tossed his brown curls with a cheeky smile. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” I griped mutinously, arranging my mouth into a smile for a cute little blond girl and her brunette mother across the street. My gaze rested on the mother a few moments too long. That dark glossy hair of hers and her tall height reminded me of…

  “Anyway,” Henry said, sliding his arm around to give me a rap on the shoulder, “I owe you for hooking me up with that Liza model. She’s the best one yet! I saw her Saturday and Sunday night.”

  “Hold on. Stop the press,” I said, twisting my head to gape at him head-on. “You went on a second date with someone?”

  He shrugged.

  “Guess it was bound to happen eventually. Besides, why not? I’m telling you, the girl’s an absolute freak in bed. Models, am I right?”

  He nudged me again, but I ignored it. I knew what he wanted: to get some information about Heidi out of me. The discretion I’d requested of Heidi went both ways. I wasn’t planning on telling Henry about what had gone on between us these past few nights. In fact, I wasn’t going to tell anyone about what we’d done. No use in ruining a good thing.

  “Hellooo,” Henry said, nudging me, again, as he flung his other arm into a wave at a gaggle of Catholic schoolgirls. “That was me asking you how your date went. Get it?”

  I swallowed back my “sod off” and settled on, “It went fine.”

  His dark brows raised.

  “Fine as in sex that was so hot it’ll be recorded through the ages, or fine as in you’re already looking for dear sexy Heidi’s replacement?”

  I gave him a rapping pat of my own.

  “Don’t worry about me, brother. My tastes are not as disparate and easily bored as yours.”

  “Don’t make me feel even sorrier for you than usual,” he said with an irreverent smile.

  I gave him the finger, although I didn’t even bother to observe his reaction. What Henry had said got me thinking. If he’d found time to see Liza that much over the weekend, then why couldn’t I have had another date with Heidi?

  The horse-drawn carriage stopped. Henry stabbed his thumb at a McDonald’s.

  “I’m going to get a McFlurry. Want one?”

  I shook my head mutely, and he clambered off. McDonald’s…just like… I groaned, my hands going to my temples. Rubbing them a bit didn’t help what I was being plagued with: Heidi-itis. Today, there didn’t seem to be any escaping her.

  Anyway, my brother was gone, so I guessed I could call her if I really wanted to.

  She answered on the first ring.

  “Charles, hi,” she said, sounding clearly pleased.

  “Hey,” I said.

  My gaze stopped on a blushing old lady who’d turned to wave. I must’ve been beaming my grin at her obliviously for the last minute or so. Whoops.

  “I know it’s kind of last minute, but I was wondering if you have plans tonight. Or rather, if you’d like to go to dinner with me tonight,” I said.

  “I’d love that.” I grinned at her reply; her voice attested to her words. “Same place?”

  “Same place,” I told her. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “I’m looking forward to it too,” she said before I hung up.

  My dick twitched in anticipation. Why hadn’t I just done that in the first place? Whatever the reason, at least I now had things set in stone. It was going to be a good night. I could tell already.

  --

  An hour or so later, after I’d taken an early departure from our carriage ride, I picked Heidi up myself, although I was careful to sit on the opposite end of the limo and only make idle chitchat with her—none of which involved eye contact. I wanted to make sure we got through the meal before we enjoyed dessert. As much as I’d love to get to the dessert part with her, if we did it too soon, too fast, we might never make it to the main course. And my belly wasn’t grumbling irately for nothing.

  This time for dinner, they set us up on a higher level on a well-shaded balcony. Once we sat down and ordered our meals, Heidi aimed an impressed gaze up at the stars.

  “Every time I’ve been here, they’ve sat us in a different spot. Makes it almost like a different place.”

  “It is,” I said, although that was not what I was really thinking.

  My mind was consumed with how hot she looked—and how different. Last time she’d been a bit punk rock with her black leather zip-up dress. Today she was pure class in a white, high cowl neck dress that showed off her dainty arms and svelte legs. I wanted to devour her from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head. But as I said, we hadn’t eaten yet. First things first.

  Taking all of ten minutes, our food was prepared quickly and efficiently, while our chitchat was easy and painless. This time, we both had chicken skewers. We drooled at the tall spears of meat for a minute before I couldn’t help but take my first bite. The second, I nestled against her lips. Our gazes locked. Maybe it was the dark night or the dark thoughts slithering through her, but her eyes almost looked black, not the dark green they actually were. I wanted to kiss her.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” she asked softly as her lips enveloped the meat.

  My mouth twisted into the hungriest of smiles. My face dipped to hers, but my phone went off.

  “Charles, we need you at the house,” my mother said in a clipped tone.

  “What’s the problem?” I asked. “Can you wait an hour or—”

  “It can’t wait a second,” she snapped. “Just as I predicted, the tabloids caught hold of a story about your brother and some model. It’s absolute madness over here.”

  She hung up before I could even give a response.

  The few seconds it took to turn to face Heidi felt like an eternity. An eternity for me to realize I had no idea what to say.

  “Something bad?” she guessed immediately.

  I nodded, frowning.

  “I hate to do this, but I have to go,” I said, rising. “Right now.”

  Disappointment pouted her lips only for an instant before understanding pressed them together as she nodded.

  “Of course,” she said. “I understand.”

  “I’ll make sure the car returns and takes you back home, though,” I said, pausing.

  Amid the forced understanding on her face, there was a sort of quiet, sad curiosity too—one I should answer but had no time for, not right now.

  “My apologies again,” I said, lifting her fingers to my lips. “Till next time.”

  I held them there a moment too long, then wrenched myself away. As I left, behind me, I heard her response: “Till next time.”

  It was sad, just how the look in her eyes had been, as if she didn’t quite believe me.

  Chapter 12

  Heidi

  If only Charles could see me now…

  I was wearing the sexiest lingerie known to man: a push-up bra that made my Bs look like Ds and a perfectly crafted thong that made my pert ass jut out even more than usual. I’d grinned at myself in the bathroom for a good three minutes before I’d made it out here on set in the store itself.

  I pretended he was the one behind the camera. I pursed my lips and shoved out the lower one. I widened my eyes ever so slightly in an innocent expression, then narrowed them in a dirty one.

  All the while, the commentary of the tall British photographer egged Liza and I on.

  “Hands on your hips, left hip out. Blonde, throw your arm around brunette.”

  I blinked back my oncoming glare. Maybe it was
because our photographer, Hugh, was both posh and oddly good looking, but he seemed to think he didn’t have to take the time to refer to us by our actual names. It was annoying, but Liza and I were getting a big fat paycheck for this, so we kept our mouths shut.

  After we held his ordered pose for what felt like an eternity, Hugh clapped his hands. Thank goodness. His rapping, single handclap was his memo for us to separate.

  “Heads together now,” Hugh ordered. “Brunette, can you look like you’re into this, please?”

  Once again, several slow blinks stopped my glare. How was I supposed to be into this when all I could think about was last night and how badly it had ended? Charles had gotten a strange call and then left without telling me what in the hell was up. And today, over twelve hours later, he still hadn’t contacted me.

  The worst part was, as Charles was leaving, how he’d looked at me, almost as though he felt sorry for me, sickeningly enough. That was the last thing in the world I wanted him to feel around me: pity for the poor American model who was in way over her head with the prince who was already tiring of her. Just great.

  “All right.” Hugh clapped his hands again. “That’s enough for today. You two ladies need to get some sleep.”

  Liza and I left with wane smiles and half-hearted waves. As soon as I was out of his line of sight and in the safe hallway outside, I let out a big sigh of relief. Some workdays, the best part was it ending.

  Photographers like hot, posh Brit back there came with the territory. Being a model meant you got to deal with a lot of challenging personalities, whether it was other diva models, anal photographers, or even militant agents. One thing I’d learned in this business was that when people got a bit more power than they were used to, they often became simpering incompetents or demanding dictators.

  At this point, I wasn’t sure which type of photographers I detested more—megalomaniac jerks like Hugh or the pervy ones who had us models contort into such bizarre poses while wearing such flimsy attire that I got the distinct impression the only thing their camera was angling for was a nip slip.