Washed Up Royal

by Karr, Kim

  There’s a curtain separating the sleeping quarters from the kitchen but Adrien doesn’t bother drawing it. The light from the sun spills over him in a way that reminds me of an angel.

  Pulling off my scarf, I let my blonde hair fall in a tumble and cascade over my shoulders as I sit on the bed.

  He’s hovering over me within mere seconds. “You want slow?”

  I nod and shiver. “I want everything about today to be slow.”

  His fingers travel up the grooves of my ribs as he croons how slow he can go, how very slow, slow, slow, slow.

  I’m on my back when he brushes my hair from my shoulder, exposing my neck so he can gently kiss my throat, my shoulder, my nipple again.

  The sound of the waves settles in the room.

  His cock is so hard, it’s throbbing between us. An unbearable heat rises inside me as he slips his fingers into my hair and whispers in my ear, “I promise you I’ll do my best to make certain things between us don’t ever change.”

  Sunlight streams through the small window. And I am grateful because I want to see him. “Being in the spotlight is difficult.”

  His lips move back up my throat and settle possessively on my mouth, his tongue sliding inside me as easily as his spirit has slid into mine. “Everything in life worth having is difficult, Sweet Thing.”

  I claw him closer until we’re skin to skin. “I suppose you’re right.”

  The thickness of his erection presses against his shorts and settles perfectly between my thighs. He’s so big and so hard, and I’m so ready for him my body is quaking. “I know I am,” he says all cocky like.

  I giggle beneath him.

  With a shake of his head, he unties one side, then the other of my bikini bottoms. When I shift my body, he whips them completely off me and tosses them aside.

  Getting up on his palms, he takes me in. All of me, naked and so very bare for him. His gaze roaming every curve, every inch of me, I swear he’s making love to me with just his eyes.

  After a long, sinuous path, his blue-eyed gaze stops and smolders over my face. “You’re so beautiful. I don’t think I’ve seen anything as beautiful as you in my entire life,” he huskily declares.

  Getting up on my elbows, I crane my neck up and find his lips. “Make love to me. I can’t wait another minute.”

  “Then you shall have me,” he says, getting to his feet to undress. Making fast work of removing his shorts, he’s back on top of me completely naked.

  White-hot waves of thunder roll through when he slides his fingers over my damp folds. “Fuck, you’re so ready for me,” he growls.

  The push of his finger inside makes me gasp. Spending my entire life with this man will never be enough. Being with him is a storm of ecstasy that takes my every breath hostage.

  The waves move up and down and my attention fosters between my hands running over his smooth skin to his fingers pressing in and out of me to my fingertips moving over his muscular chest and then to his tongue circling at my ear.

  Like an arrow being pulled back, my body is taut, ready, waiting. He’s in control and he’s all there is in my giant world.

  Whispering that he craves me wet every minute of the day as he removes his fingers and grabs his erection in one hand while the other holds his massive build above me, is more than I can take, and I find myself gasping for air.

  Looking at him, I can barely catch my breath or stop my racing heart when his tip connects with my opening.

  He pauses for a moment.

  “Please fuck me,” I beg, unable to wait one more second.

  A grin graces his full lips as his blue eyes simmer in flames. “Such a naughty princess.

  “Only with you,” I pant.

  “Only ever with me,” he breathes, driving into me slow inch by slow inch. It takes forever until I’m filled with him and when he’s completely inside me I’m buzzing from head to toe.

  I soak everything about this moment up.

  The feel of him.

  The sound of me.

  His heavy breathing.

  The way he fits perfectly with me.

  When I’m no longer empty, and he’s moving inside me so deliciously slow, I look up at his beautiful face and know I will never be empty again.

  FOUND BUT NEVER LOST

  The Alexandria Gossiper

  Royal Watch Breaking News

  Also found on royalgirl.net

  THE PRINCESS HAS CHECKED IN

  By Ophelia Heart

  Dear Royal Lovers, O here, and I have good news!

  The Princess of Alexandria has emerged, and her private secretary tells us she is madly in love, and it isn’t with her first Prince Charming.

  The Palace has announced the Princess was vacationing in none other than Newport when she fell in love with Prince Adrien Laurent of Eastwood.

  No details have been given about their courtship but we have been told they will return to Alexandria in the next few days.

  I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to see this new love connection. It makes me believe that happily ever afters can come true.

  I want a Prince.

  What about you?

  Tweet me.

  THE TIME HAS COME

  Hours later we pull back into the harbor and it has already begun. I wrap an arm around Tori’s waist and turn the engine off, steering us toward the dock.

  Lights flash.

  Cameras snap.

  Flash. Flash. Flash.

  Snap. Snap. Snap.

  Shit, I have to call my mother.

  I blink against the onslaught and watch Tori, who’s hair is back in a scarf and hot little body covered in a dress, straighten her spine.

  William takes the ropes, securing the boat for me, and after I hop onto the dock, I offer my hand to the Princess.

  As soon as we walk down the plank and onto the marina grounds, the crowd swarms around us.

  Ava and Truman are in a hired car with blacked-out windows, waiting for us, but we are so bombarded by a cacophony of questions as the paparazzi snap picture after picture of us that getting to them is going to take forever.

  “Princess Victoria…,” someone calls out. “There are reports that you went in search of a husband so that you could take the throne. Can you confirm this?”

  Rachel is making her way toward us. “The Princess will be holding a press conference upon her return to Alexandria, until then we ask that you hold all of your questions.”

  Ignoring her someone else asks, “Princess, can you tell us if you’re really in love or this engineered for your ascent?”

  I pull her tighter to me, hating the scrutiny that’s going to pounce upon us.

  Rachel reaches us. “I’m so sorry, Princess, someone at the Palace leaked my correspondence.”

  “Probably my uncle,” she sighs.

  I shield her with my body as best I can.

  Guarding her.

  Protecting her.

  Refusing to let this day turn into anything other than what it is. “Stay away from us,” I warn.

  They shouldn’t be here, not so close to our haven.

  “Prince Adrien, is it true you were in a boating accident recently?” someone else calls. “And is it true Eastwood had bestowed the title, Washed Up Royal upon you?”

  This place is supposed to be my sanctuary, our sanctuary, and all I want to do is get the fuck away from all of these people.

  It surprises me when Tori breaks from my hold and waves a delicate arm in the air. “I’d like everyone to know this man beside me is the love of my life and I couldn’t be prouder to have him sit beside me on the throne.”

  Her voice is strong, confident, and right before my eyes, my Sweet Thing turns into the Queen I know she’s always been.

  Tori.

  Sweet Tori.

  All hail Queen Victoria.

  A ROYAL FLUSH

  A storm festers on the fringe of the horizon as if struggling to possess the sky of Eastwood as Truman and I enter t
he Palace.

  Seems appropriate.

  The sounds of the bagpipes alert us it’s promptly nine a.m. and we automatically head toward the King’s apartment.

  None of the guards stop us as they’ve been informed to allow us access. Dread fires through my veins as we climb the stairs.

  Paintings of our ancestors hang proudly in the corridor and the red damask carpet speaks of the grandeur this place holds.

  “Hey, slow down, man,” I call but Truman ignores me and pushes the wooden carved door open without knocking.

  On his heels, I rush in behind him.

  Rutherford barely glances up. He’s at the table near the window reading the morning papers and eating scrambled eggs with smoked salmon.

  A streak of lightning twists and tangles through the dense clouds behind him but he’s so high in his tower he doesn’t even glance toward it.

  “Rutherford,” Truman barks, “I demand to know why you’re trying to kill us?”

  Arrogant and cocky, his face flushes red when he slams his fist down. “It’s King Rutherford, cousin Truman, and a proper greeting would be appreciated.”

  A lash of anger singes within me as if the lightning from outside has struck my body. “Fuck that, Rutherford. We want to know what the hell is going on in your warped mind that you think getting rid of us will set you free?”

  He blinks long and hard at me and then points his ring finger holding up that giant ruby stone with our family’s crest upon it my way. “You had your chance to talk, cousin, and you passed.”

  My chin takes on a defiant set when I glare at him. “That was before I knew you paid someone on my own fucking team to kill me.”

  His shoulders lift to his ears, and he puffs out a massive burst of laughter with a slow shake of his head. It was a stab in the dark but most likely true. “I think that knock to your head might have done more damage than you realize, cousin,” he barks. “You should get it checked out.”

  I bite off a bitter laugh. All my life I’ve had this man’s back and I have to wonder how long he’s been wanting to stab mine. “I think you and I both know I’m not the one with an issue.”

  “I’m not even going to entertain either of you by asking where such a crazy notion comes from. I did not attempt to take either of your lives, I can assure you of that.”

  No saying if he did or did not. I can’t read him. Then again, he didn’t, himself, that’s for sure.

  He goes on. “You both think I don’t know neither of you wants me to bring legalized gambling to the entirety of the Vespa Isles?” he asks, his voice is coated with malice, and now I know in my gut he did what Truman thinks he did. “But I’m afraid that’s not either of your calls.”

  Moving closer to him, Truman tips his head to the side and narrows his eyes to prove a point. “You’re being paranoid, Rutherford, for no fucking reason. We don’t care what you attempt to do or how much land you buy. I know you’ll never pass the bill through the general assembly. They’re smarter than that.”

  Land.

  Rutherford is buying up land?

  How the fuck does Truman know this?

  “Yes, well, perhaps our little oasis isn’t ready for that big of a step. Not yet, anyway but soon, I can assure you.”

  “More like never,” Truman scowls. “Not with the way you’re pushing it down everyone’s throat.”

  The King brings his fork to his mouth and shoves a load of eggs into it. Around his food he says, “Everything I do is for good reason.”

  Cynical laughter leaves Truman’s throat. “If attempting to kill your cousins was for good reason, you should probably know, it’s not good for a man in your position to screw with either of us.”

  I attempt to swallow around the lump wedged at the base of my throat. Going for Rutherford’s balls so soon wasn’t part of the plan. We were supposed to get him to admit to his treachery first, which he has not since we haven’t even gotten to that.

  Rutherford pushes off the table and lunges for Truman. “Don’t you dare threaten me.”

  Lunging for them both, my gut gets tied up in a thousand knots. Threatening the King could very well get us sent to prison. Peeling them apart, I stand between them.

  The King narrows his eyes at me. “If you want to keep your pretty fiancé safe, you won’t fuck with me.”

  Feeling like he just drop-kicked me in the stomach, I push him toward the sofa. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His eyes are cool and calculating. “Her uncle has asked me to help him out with a little situation. That situation being his niece.”

  I push him back further and stare at him with all of the menace I have for this man. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

  “Oh, cousin, I declined, of course,” he says.

  Sucking in a breath, I force myself to let go of him. “You lay one finger on her and I’ll take your head.”

  His head falls back and he roars in laughter. “That right there my cousin could get you beheaded.”

  My nerves fire and I run my hand over the nape of my neck. “I mean it, Rutherford. Stay away from her.”

  Sweet blue eyes with a kind heart flutter through my mind and if he so much as breathes in her direction, I will kill him.

  “You’ve misjudged me,” he scoffs. “That piece of disloyal shit of her uncle doesn’t deserve to hold a position in court.”

  I squeeze my hands into fists, puff a breath out, and then look him in the eyes. “Stay away from her.”

  He holds his hands up. “We’ve digressed.”

  Truman’s beside me and he leans in close, holding up his phone. “Yes, we have a cousin.”

  He hits play and a video starts…of a young man taking a folder from his dying father’s bedside table and forging his father’s name. He and Truman were alone that day. I was not with them. I just know what Truman told me. How Rutherford’s father did not want to approve gambling but Rutherford didn’t agree. And the proof is right there in the video, taken secretly from Truman’s breast pocket. But then the video continues and I watch in horror as Rutherford takes a pillow from the big bed and then smothers his already dying father with it.

  A shiver rolls down my spine. The treachery. The ruthlessness. I’d never seen the second part of the video. Only the first. Sucking in a shaky breath, I look toward the storm.

  “What do you want?” Rutherford grits out, grabbing the phone from Truman’s hand and throwing it across the room.

  It hits the wall and smashes into pieces.

  Truman laughs the ugliest sound. “Right-o. Well, good thing I have that piece of video stored in a very safe place.”

  “It better be,” Rutherford retorts, brutal sarcasm bleeding from his tone. “Because it is the only thing that is going to save your life.”

  My insides squeeze and bile rises in my throat. Rutherford killed his own father. Dying or not, he killed him. And Truman knew about this and never told me. And Rutherford knows he knows and probably thought I knew all along, too.

  Motherfucker.

  “What do you want?” Rutherford asks through clenched teeth.

  “What do I want?” Truman spits. “I want a lot. But to start, I want in on the casinos you’re going to build throughout the Isles.”

  His words slice through me like a knife.

  In.

  A part of it?

  Traitor.

  “And I want you to stop with the death tactics,” he adds, almost laughing. “Whoever you’re hiring is shit at trying to kill someone, anyway.”

  A knot forms in the base of my throat.

  “The casino deal will more than likely be put on hold.”

  “It won’t stay that way, I’m sure.” Truman tells him. “And when it does happen, I want a piece of the action.”

  “How big of a piece?” Rutherford asks.

  “Fifteen percent of everything,” Truman tells him.

  “Five,” he counters.

  “Ten.”

  “Fine. I’ll have a contr
act drawn up this afternoon but I want that video to disappear forever.”

  “Done.”

  Rutherford looks at me. “What? You have nothing to say? Not asking for a piece?”

  I glare at him and then at Truman. “No.”

  Bitter laughter spills from his mouth. “You didn’t know, did you?” He laughs even harder when I say nothing.

  “You didn’t. I can see it in your eyes.”

  I rake a hand through my hair, “Don’t worry about me. Just stay the fuck away from Victoria.”

  He shakes his head. “Always the good boy.”

  Truman glares at him.

  Rutherford points to the door. “Both of you get out of here right now. I’ve had enough,” he growls.

  Truman leans closer to him as he remains perched on the back of the sofa. “Send the contract or that little video you just saw goes viral.”

  “Pleasure doing business with you, cousin,” Rutherford muses.

  Truman straightens his suit jacket and then looks over at me. “Let’s go.”

  In a blur of fury and rage, I fly out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the Palace into the pouring rain. I rush past the car that brought us and run through the gates. Thunder rumbles in the distance and the raindrops batter my skin but I don’t care.

  When the car pulls up beside me, Truman emerges from the back door. “Get in the fucking car, Adrien.”

  I look over toward him and before I know it I’m dragging him to the front of the vehicle and slamming his head down on the hood.

  My forearm pins his throat. “What the fuck did you just do?”

  Truman gasps for a breath but doesn’t fight back.

  I release him for the briefest moment, and he wheezes in a sharp breath. “Let me explain.”

  Fury blinds me and I press against his windpipe even harder this time. “Explain. Explain! Explain that you’re just as fucking corrupt as him?”

  His head shakes as the rain fills his gaping mouth. Realizing I could very well kill him, I ease up on his throat