Royally Unexpected: An Accidental Pregnancy Collection

by Lilian Monroe

  Horror freezes my veins. Didn’t Coach say he would have eyes at the party? What if I’ve already been seen?

  I look back down the stairs and I know I can’t go back there. I’ll have to find another way out. Maybe if I find a different exit, I can circle back around the castle and make it home before anyone sees me.

  Coming to this stupid ball was a bad, bad idea. Terrible. Why did I ever think I would belong here? How did I think this would be fun? This is my worst nightmare.

  I push the door open and step out into a wide hallway. Doors line either side of it, and I hesitate. After a couple of seconds, this corridor is still completely silent, so I tiptoe out, as silent as a mouse. I poke my head in a room, and finding it empty, cross it to look down at the party below.

  The Prince is talking to Olivia and Marielle already. My mouth tastes bitter and I turn away from the window.

  Of course he’s talking to them. He’s going to talk to all the girls here. That’s why he looked at me—he’s looking for a wife.

  A wife who absolutely, not in a million years, never in a million years could ever be me.

  I need to get out of here. I’ve never belonged in a place like this, and I never should have come here. It’ll end badly, I can feel it.

  Finding another exit will be difficult, this place is like a maze. I make my way back into the hallway and try a couple of doors. There are more bedrooms in this castle than I ever thought possible. A few doors are locked. Most of the rooms look like they’re never used.

  I turn down another hallway, and then another, and pretty soon I’m completely, utterly lost.

  Panic starts to set in. I start imagining one of the security guards finding me and me trying to explain how I ended up three floors above the party that I’m not even supposed to be attending. I carry my shoes and tiptoe barefoot down another hallway, ducking into a room when I hear voices around the corner. I squeeze my eyes shut, crouching against the door as if that will help me stay hidden.

  Is this real life? How did I end up here?

  My heart is thumping so hard I think I’m going to pass out. The voices pass the doorway without stopping and I let out a sigh. The only thing on my mind now is getting the hell out of Farcliff Castle.

  I open my eyes and see that I’m in a home gym. Well, not exactly a ‘home gym’, since it’s stocked better than our varsity college gym, but still—it’s a gym.

  My shoulders relax and I let my heels drop to the floor. I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of rubber and steel and cleaning products. Unlike the varsity gym, this one doesn’t smell like the stench of twenty-thousand sweaty college kids.

  It feels familiar to be in here, so I take a moment to relax. No one is going to come and work out while the Prince’s Ball is in full swing, so maybe I can take a moment to calm down and come up with a plan.

  There’s a punching bag in the corner, and I walk up to it and give it a jab. The bag is harder than I expect, and it barely moves. I punch it again, and it swings a little more. And then again, and again, unleashing all the adrenaline and fear and nerves that have been pent up inside me for the past week, the past year, the past lifetime.

  “Damn, girl, what did that bag ever do to you?”

  I scream, scrambling behind the punching bag as I turn toward the voice. And honest to Farcliff, it’s him. It’s him.

  The Crown Prince of Farcliff, next in line for the throne, notorious bad-boy, womanizing sex god, muscled and inked like no other royal…

  Yeah, that Prince. Prince Charlie.

  He’s here.

  “You’re pretty good,” he says, nodding to the still-swinging punching bag as if any of this is normal. “Do you box?”

  I gulp. His aura fills the whole room. It crowds around me as he takes a step closer to me, suffocating me in the sweetest, most intoxicating way. He stalks me like a predator, his steps soft and measured, his eyes low, his body coiled and ready.

  Ready for what?

  My breath trembles.

  He tilts his head. “I know you’re not mute, because you screamed when I walked in. So, I’ll ask again. Do you box?”

  I shake my head. “No,” I manage to whisper. “No, Prince Ch—uh, Your Highness— I row.”

  Something flashes in his eyes and he tilts his head, and then he closes the distance between us. Sweet mother of mercy, he’s big. Never in my life have I felt small until now. The Prince is taller than me, and wider than me, rougher than me, and more muscular than me.

  And I like it—a lot.

  His hand brushes my hip and sparks flash across my body. My nipples pucker and I squeeze my thighs together. I can hardly breathe as he moves even closer. His other hand touches my other hip, and he spins me slowly so I’m facing the punching bag again.

  “Now,” he says in a low voice that turns my insides to jelly. “Take an athletic stance. This foot forward.” He taps my left thigh with his hand and I see a tattoo on his wrist poke out from under his shirt. He smells spicy and fresh and oh-so-wonderfully dangerous.

  The Prince takes my arms, shaping his body behind mine as he helps me into a boxing stance. My breath becomes shallow and ragged and I’m afraid to move.

  But my body betrays me. My ass presses back ever so slightly into him, and he growls. The noise rumbles deep in his chest, and he runs his fingers up the bare skin of my arms and over my shoulders.

  “Who are you?” He says in my ear as his breath whispers over my skin.

  “No one.”

  Prince Charlie chuckles, letting his hands slide over my stomach. One hand slides up between my breasts, holding my chest up so my body is fully welded against his. His fingers tease the base of my neck and my head spins. My ass rolls back against him and his breath slides over my shoulder.

  He mimics my movement, pushing his hips into me and I gasp. I can feel it—him. He’s hard, and big, and thick…

  …and I’ve never wanted anything more.

  I lean my head back against the Prince’s shoulder and his thick, strong arms hold me there. I feel so secure right there, that I almost forget where I am.

  Who I am.

  “I’m not supposed to be here,” I breathe.

  “No,” he says. “You’re not.” The hand he’s holding on my chest drifts downward, under my dress to cup my breast. His fingers brush over my already-hard nipple and he pinches it between his fingers. I whimper as a zip of heat jolts down between my legs, and he does it again.

  I tremble, leaning all my weight against him as he does nothing except hold me upright and tease my breast. The hand on my stomach holds me to him as his cock throbs against my ass.

  Now, I know my sex life isn’t much to write home about. I know I don’t get out much, and I don’t do one-night stands. So, I’m not exactly the most experienced person in the world.

  But right now, with my body melting against the Prince’s and his hand playing with my nipple, I feel so close to orgasm that it’s almost embarrassing.

  Almost.

  “Who are you?” He growls again, his voice more commanding this time. “Tell me.”

  “I can’t.”

  He pinches my nipple hard and my breathe hitches. Pain and pleasure explode through me. I want more. My arm reaches back behind his head, digging my fingernails into the nape of his neck. I can’t stop myself.

  “Tell me your name. I command you as your Prince.”

  My knees quake, and my name is on the tip of my tongue. His hand on my stomach drifts down to my mound, and he presses my center back to his. The heat of his palm between my legs makes my head spin. Everything inside me is screaming to obey. Tell him who I am. Tell him anything he wants.

  But I can’t. No one can know I was here.

  So, instead, I exhale the one word that I can still manage to say.

  “No.”

  8

  Elle

  The Prince freezes for a moment, but I’m so turned on I can’t be afraid. He’s still holding me to him, throbbing against m
e, teasing me and pinching me and torturing me like never before.

  But then the Prince does the one thing I don’t want him to do. He withdraws his hand from my breast and takes a step away from me. I waver, my legs not quite ready to take my full weight again.

  The Prince turns me around to face him again, tilting his head to the side. His eyes are wicked and dark. One hand stays on my hip as he brushes the other over my breast. His fingers slide up across my collarbone and then up to my lips. His hand cups my face, more gently than I’d expected from him.

  “Why won’t you tell me who you are?” His eyes flash. “Everyone else is dying for me to remember their name.”

  “I’m not everyone else.”

  “No,” he says, running his thumb over my bottom lip. “You’re not.”

  There are no thoughts in my head anymore. All there is between my ears—and between my thighs—is a deep, unquenchable want. I want his cock inside me. I want his body pressed up against me. I want him everywhere, anywhere, anyhow.

  The Prince leaves his thumb on my lips and I find myself parting them. I swirl my tongue over the tip of his thumb as he watches me. His eyes widen as a smile tugs his lips. I suck the Prince’s thumb into my mouth as he watches me, the heat of his gaze making my whole body burn. When I flick my tongue over the tip of it, the tension between us heightens.

  How can he do this to me? With one look, half a touch, and only a few words, I’m beside myself. Prince Charlie drags his thumb from between my lips and then crushes his mouth against them instead. My arms wrap around his neck as he backs me against the wall, caging me against it as he kisses me harder.

  The Prince’s tongue swipes into my mouth, dancing with mine as his hand grips the nape of my neck. I gasp, tangling my hands into his hair and pulling his face to mine. My body is on fire. He grinds his hips against me and I buck underneath him. His teeth drag across my lower lip and I make a noise at the back of my throat, nipping at him harder.

  His grip on my neck tightens as he tilts my head up, kissing me more fiercely. I find the collar of his shirt and rip it open, buttons flying in all directions like confetti.

  The Prince pauses, glancing down at his open shirt as a wolfish grin spreads on his lips. His eyes flash again, and he roars.

  He wrenches my dress down to my waist and I hear it tear with a sharp, satisfying rip. The Prince cups my exposed breast with his hand as he jams his leg between my thighs. His cock is so hard it makes me ache for him. His thumb, still wet with my saliva, feels cold as he swirls it around my nipple.

  He pinches it gently and chuckles when I whimper. “Are you still refusing to tell me your name?” He kisses my neck, pulling me into him and coiling his fingers into my hair.

  I tremble, almost falling until the Prince pins me harder against the wall. I nod, breathless.

  “I could get you thrown in jail.” HIs eyes are dark as his fingers work to unzip my ruined dress. It puddles at my feet and I stand in front of him in nothing but my underwear.

  “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” I run my fingers over his chest, pushing his shirt off his shoulders. We stare at each other’s nearly-naked bodies, devouring them with our eyes. Ink dances over his skin, rippling with every movement he makes. Prince Charlie is covered in tattoos from his neck to his waist, and I let my fingers trace his ink, his abdominal muscles, the outline of his pecs.

  He’s perfect.

  I take a trembling breath and close my eyes for a moment. The Prince freezes, and when I open my eyes, he’s staring at me curiously.

  “This is new to you, isn’t it?” He backs away a fraction of an inch and I miss the heat of his body. “You’re not used to this.”

  “Not used to what?”

  He runs his fingers up my sides, sending shivers through my whole body. Pressing his chest to mine, he cups my face in his hands and stares into my eyes.

  “Being with a man like me.”

  I almost laugh. I’m not used to being with any men, let alone royalty.

  The Prince’s thumb sweeps over my lip and he kisses me again. I pull him into me, pressing my breasts against him as I grind my hips toward him. The gusset of my panties is completely drenched, and my desire for him is only mounting.

  Sensing my need, Prince Charlie drops a hand between my legs and grunts when he feels my soaked underwear. His lips don’t leave mine as he runs his hand up and down the outside of my panties, teasing me mercilessly as I move my hips with him.

  I fumble with his pants while his lips stay locked with mine. He runs his teeth over my lip and swirls his tongue into my mouth. I moan, finally unfastening his pants and letting them drop to the ground, revealing a pair of tight, white briefs that leave nothing to the imagination. He’s big.

  My arms fly around him and we roll our hips toward each other in wild, frantic movements.

  The Prince’s body is insane. Everywhere I touch is hard, rippling muscle. He’s chiseled from warm marble, lean and sculpted and like no one else I’ve ever been with. I kiss his neck, bite his shoulder, pull his hair. I need him.

  And then, Prince Charlie does something that I’ve only dreamed of. He does something that I thought I’d never experience, that no man has ever done to me before. Something I’ve fantasied about, alone in my room at night, with my eyes squeezed shut and my hand between my legs.

  He. Picks. Me. Up.

  I yelp, fear spiking through me as my legs wrap around his waist of their own volition. He doesn’t stumble, though. He doesn’t drop me. He holds me as if I weigh nothing. As if I’m not almost as tall as him.

  And I feel like a woman. He holds me in his arms and I feel sexier than I’ve ever felt before. I grind my center against him as he grunts, his cock pressed against my soaked underwear.

  I curl my hands into the Prince’s hair and kiss him harder, squeezing his waist between my thighs as he takes a few steps.

  The energy between us crackles. Our movements are feverish as we claw at each other. He sinks his fingers into my ass as I leave long scratch marks down his back.

  “Hold that,” he says, nodding to a bar above me.

  I don’t have the energy to think—I just do what he says. I grab the bar with both hands, unwrapping my legs from his waist. He keeps his hands on my hips, teasing my neck with his lips. His hands slip my panties down over my ass. The soaking wet fabric falls to the ground and I kick it away. He gives my butt a light smack.

  “Nice ass,” he says, grinning.

  “Thanks. I made it myself.”

  That gets a laugh from him, and he hooks his thumbs into his briefs and drops them to his ankles. My breath hitches, and the Prince’s lips twitch into a wicked smile.

  “Keep your hands on that bar. That’s a command from your Prince.” Without waiting for an answer, he grabs my legs and wraps them around his waist. The tip of his cock brushes against me, and I inhale.

  His eyes are smoldering. I watch a vein in his neck pulse with thick, hot blood as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

  Then without warning, the Prince buries himself inside me to the hilt. Holding my waist, he drives his cock inside me, hard. We both grunt. I grip the bar above my head as he thrusts into me again and again, sending wave after wave of pleasure rocking through me.

  Without breaking stride, the Prince grabs my legs and hooks them under his arms, spreading me even wider for him. A moan slips through my lips as his cock drives deeper inside me.

  “Come for me, angel,” he growls. My body is completely in his control. I hang from the bar above my head with my knees hooked over his arms as he drives himself deeper and deeper inside me. I can feel everything—his full length pulsing as he pushes inside me. I’m so wet it covers him completely and our bodies slap together amidst grunts and moans.

  It’s messy. It’s rough. It’s fucking incredible.

  The muscles in my arms are screaming, but I don’t care. I’m not letting go. The Prince takes my nipple between his lips and drags his
teeth over it as he spreads me wider, punishing every part of me.

  I scream.

  My spasming is out of my control. My legs squeeze into him as an orgasm rocks through me, sending me flying over the edge as my whole body contracts around him.

  The Prince lets out a moan, sucking my breast between his lips and driving himself inside me again. My body goes limp, my head lolling back with every movement of his thrusting hips.

  But I don’t let go.

  Not until I feel his cock grow even harder. Not until I feel it push deep inside me. Not until he grunts, splashing his seed against my womb with a final, powerful thrust.

  Then, finally, I let go of the bar above me—and we both tumble to the floor.

  9

  Charlie

  My mystery woman lands on top of me in a tangle of arms and legs. My cock slips out of her, thank fuck, otherwise the fall might have snapped it in half.

  “You okay?” She props herself on her elbows. Her brows are arched in worry.

  I grab her ass with both hands. “I’m great.” I smack it again.

  A shy smile tugs at her lips and I wonder how she could feel shy after what’s just happened. “That was…” She trails off.

  I grin. “It was fucking hot, that’s what it was. I’ve always wanted to do that but I’ve never met a girl who was strong enough.”

  She smiles, blushing. I bring my lips to hers and kiss her… and then freeze. “Are you on the pill?”

  She opens her mouth to answer just as the castle clocktower starts ringing. The mystery girl’s eyes widen and she jumps up off me. “What time is it?”

  “Midnight,” I answer, frowning. She hasn’t answered my question. If she’s not on the pill, she’ll have to get the morning after pill. I’ve already learned my lesson a long time ago—I can’t trust women when it comes to pregnancy. All they want is a little bastard child by me so they know they’ll be set up for life.