The Royal Arrangement: Prequel to The Rebel Queen

by Jeana E. Mann

  “I love it. You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. You have a body made for fucking and a mouth made for sucking. I can’t wait to shove my dick inside you, fill you up with my cum, make you scream my name. Do you want me to do that to you? Is that what you want from me tonight?”

  “Yes.” God, yes. My lungs swell and contract, desperate for more oxygen, because this man has stolen all the air from my world. The scent of his cologne drifts in his wake as he circles me, inspecting me from head to toe. Under his scrutiny, my breasts grow heavier; the tips prickle with arousal. I clench my knees together, looking for relief from the dull ache in my pussy. If he doesn’t fuck me soon, I’m going to implode.

  “Aren’t you curious? About what I want from you? Worried even?”

  “A little.” Although my shoes have ridiculously high heels, he’s still taller than me, a rarity for a five-eight woman. I turn my face up to his, admiring the sharp planes of his cheekbones and the glints of auburn, brown, and gold in his goatee. How will those whiskers feel on the soft flesh of my belly or between my legs? I already know the answer. Fucking awesome.

  The right corner of his mouth tips upward. He places a finger beneath my chin, angles my head up, and lowers his nose until his lips are so, so close. Close enough to feel his breath, to smell hints of bourbon. “I want to control you. To guide your desires. To make you want things you never knew you wanted. Make you do things you never thought you could do. I want you to beg for mercy and forgiveness. All while I use your body to pleasure my own.” Slowly, his mouth creeps to my ear. He takes my earlobe between his teeth and tugs. I feel the pull in my pussy. “And when I’m done with you, you’re going to thank me for all the orgasms I gave you.”

  Holy shitballs. I’m breathing hard, like I ran a footrace. How does he know my darkest, dirtiest fantasies? Things I’ve never admitted to myself, let alone a perfect stranger. We stare at each other, enveloped in secrets and mystery. I have no idea who he is. I don’t care, but I have to ask. “You tracked me down. You know my name. If Roman finds out you breached his NDA, he’ll have our heads.”

  “Roman isn’t going to find out unless you tell him.” The sweep of his touch along my arms to my hips echoes the path of his gaze. By the time his eyes find mine again, every inch of my body is on edge.

  “It’s not fair. I have no idea who you are.” The anonymity excites me. He could be anyone—a gangster, a politician, maybe even the prince we saw on the street today. “Are you Prince Henry?” His lips part like he’s going to speak. I press a fingertip against them to silence his words. “No. On second thought, don’t tell me.” If I don’t know his name, I won’t have to obsess about meeting his expectations or seeing him with another woman. The notion is liberating.

  “Inside this room, our names make no difference.” The caress of his hands along my arms escalates my pulse. “Can you live with that?”

  “Yes.” The solitary word is breathy, desperate. I don’t care if he’s the King of Siam. I just need his hands on me.

  “Touch yourself. Show me how much you want this.”

  I float a palm over one breast. The tip of my nipple pokes my hand, sharp as a pin beneath the satin. A groan of approval rumbles from his chest. “Are we really doing this?” I’m tied up in knots inside. My body wants to fuck. My head is screaming that I’m insane. “This doesn’t seem real.”

  “I’m flesh and blood, madam.” Wrapping his fingers around my wrists, he places my hands on his hard, hotter-than-the-flames-of-hell chest. His ribs rise and fall with each breath. The strong surge of his heart thumps against my palm. My skin pebbles as his hands slide down the bare skin revealed by the cutout in the back of my dress, slowing to cup my ass.

  “You’re so warm.” Standing close to him, having his hands on me, releases my inhibitions. Reason goes out the door when my fingers find the lapels of his jacket. I remove his tie, open the collar of his shirt, and unbutton the front to reveal ripple after ripple of abs, pecs, and a dusting of dark blond, wiry hair.

  He runs the tip of his tongue over his lower lip. “Are we going to fuck now, gorgeous?” The way he speaks those filthy words in his posh accent increases the wetness between my legs.

  “If we don’t, I’m going to be really disappointed.”

  My confession snaps the fragile thread of restraint stretched between us. He picks me up by the waist, pushing me into the wall behind us, crashing me into the paneling. I wrap a leg around his hip and grind against the steel rod inside his trousers. A primeval growl rumbles from his lips. Hot, wet kisses trail down the column of my neck. I dig my fingers into his short hair. Fuck Nicky. Fuck my ex-husband. Fuck me. This is by far the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me, and I’m going to enjoy every single, sinful, scandalous moment.

  “I take it things didn’t work out between you and your wank of a boyfriend.” He slips the straps of my gown over my shoulders, baring me to the waist, trapping my arms with the delicate fabric. The breath behind his words burns against my collarbone.

  “He’s history.”

  “Are you angry with him?” He bends at the knees to trail kisses down my sternum to my breast. Each press of his lips brands me, burns through my skin, ruining me. He sucks an eager nipple into his mouth.

  I throw my head back and moan. “I’m angry at all men in general,” I manage to confess, unable to think of anything but having him inside me.

  “Excellent. Let’s see if we can fuck that out of you tonight.”

  In one lightning-fast motion, he spins me around, bends me over, and shoves my face into the bed. Something soft binds my wrists behind my back. I’m too shocked to make a sound. Cool air wafts over my bare skin as he bunches my dress around my waist. One of his legs kicks my feet apart. I’m open to him, pussy on full display, ass in the air.

  “Look how wet you are. You want my cock, don’t you?” He runs a finger up the wetness dripping along the inside of my thigh then slides a finger between the folds of my pussy. “Do you like it rough, my sweet?”

  “Yes.” I try to buck against his hand, but he holds me down with a palm against the small of my back. “Please.”

  “Do you have a safe word?”

  “No.” My inner muscles flutter in a pre-orgasmic warning.

  “For tonight, your safe word is Lancelot.” A rustle of fabric accompanies his declaration. I think he’s undressing further, but I can’t see with my face in the mattress.

  “Do I need a safe word?”

  “Absolutely.” He tugs on the restraint around my wrists, testing the knot. “This is our first time, and I want to test your boundaries.”

  Excitement barrels through me. He’s barely touched me, but I’m ready to come. The truth punches me in the gut. At this moment, I’m willing to fuck any man who gets inside my panties. Except I’m not wearing any. Proving my theory. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, making dark, wet circles on the velvet bedspread. “I don’t have any boundaries. I’m a slut.”

  A sharp slap stings across my right butt cheek. He grabs the hair at my nape, twisting my head around to face him, his grip firm but gentle. “Don’t ever say that.” With the backs of his fingers, he gently wipes the wetness from my cheeks. Bending down, he brushes his lips along the shell of my ear and whispers, “Knowing what you want in bed and asking for it is never wrong. Do you understand?”

  Emotions bubble up from nowhere. Shame. Excitement. Curiosity. Desire. I nod, my throat too raw for speech. Until now, I’ve always been told how to think—by my parents and society, my teachers, friends, lovers. But inside these four walls, I’m free to be whomever I please. To do whatever I want. The knot of anxiety in my gut untangles. I blow out a cleansing breath, feeling lighter than I’ve felt in weeks.

  The golden stranger caresses my cheek one last time. “Excellent. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” My voice breaks, like I haven’t spoken in hours. Fear heightens my arousal. It creeps along my skin, rising in gooseflesh, and set
tles in the deepest recesses of my body, eager for more of him.

  A cocky smile reveals his even white teeth. Over my shoulder, I watch as he shrugs out of his jacket, staring down at me behind a veil of anonymity. With a snap, he frees the black bowtie from his collar and stuffs it between my lips. “Then let’s begin.”

  8

  HENRY

  “Your Highness? Prince Heinrich?” From far away, I hear a female voice.

  “Pardon?” My collar suddenly seems too tight. I run a finger around the inside perimeter to ease the constriction. The faces of my staff stare at me.

  Since last night, I’ve been unable to think of anything or anyone but Everly. The tightness of her cunt around my cock. The way her pussy clamped down on my fingers when I made her come. I’ve never been with any woman so responsive, so thirsty for domination, in my entire life. Beneath the conference table, my dick swells, pushing against the fly of my trousers.

  “Sir, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Except for a lingering sexual hangover. “Shasta, did you take care of the contracts I spoke with you about this morning?” A thrill of anticipation skates down my back. Once Everly signs the appropriate paperwork, I can look forward to many more nights between her legs.

  “Yes, sir.” Shasta’s glasses slip down her nose. She pushes them into place with an index finger. “The Magnussons have issued an invitation to their son’s wedding in September. Will you be attending?”

  “No. Send my regrets.” Sven Magnusson has been trying to fix me up with his vapid daughter since she reached puberty. At some point, I’ll have to choose a wife, but not yet. And certainly not her. Right now, I can’t think of anyone but Everly.

  “What about the ribbon-cutting ceremony in Monaco?”

  I shake my head, glance at my watch, and sigh as Shasta rolls through a dozen more invitations. Meanwhile, everything reminds me of Everly. The color of the sky outside is the same hue as her eyes. The round shapes of the apples in the fruit basket mimic the swell of her breasts. God, those tits. Her nipples were pale pink, incredibly sensitive, and became hard nubs when I sucked them into my mouth. With a little work, I could probably train her to orgasm from nipple play alone.

  “You have dinner reservations tonight with the governor of New York and his wife. They want to know if you have any special requests.”

  “No.” Underneath the table, my dick pulses. The ache in my balls is unbearable. “Can you all step out, please? I need a minute.”

  “Certainly, Your Highness.” Shasta grabs her phone and tablet from the table. The rest of the staff rises, shoving their chairs aside, and make a quick exit.

  As soon as the door closes behind the last person, I step into the bathroom, lock the door, and unzip. My cock springs forward the second I pull down my boxers. A bead of moisture glistens on the tip. I wrap my fingers around the base and stroke to the crown. Jesus. If my balls get any tighter, they’re going to burst. On the second stroke, I remember Everly’s pleas to have me inside her. The way I pounded into her, thrusting and grunting, lost in the sounds of our slapping skin, surrounded by the scent of her arousal. The third stroke conjures up memories of her on her knees, my cock in her mouth, hands tied behind her back, the little choking noises she made when I hit the back of her throat.

  My balls draw up, tighter than I ever thought possible. Hot fire races through my veins, spurred by the need to release the tension. I’m a little sore from all the late-night fucking, but I don’t stop pumping my fist. Harder and faster. Precise and measured at first. Sloppy at the last. The same way I fucked her. My thoughts muddy and collide with images of her alabaster skin, nips and slaps, clutching fingers, and the vise grip of her silky thighs around my waist.

  “Fuck.” The word rips from my throat, the growl of a beast. I place a hand on the wall above the toilet, giving in to the frenzied pump of my hand, fucking my fingers like a sex-starved freak. My bicep aches. My lungs burn. I squeeze my shaft, throw back my head, and roar. Hot ejaculate spurts over my fist. Relief chases my orgasm and washes through my body from head to toe.

  I ride out the wave of pleasure until my heartbeat starts to calm. My reflection in the mirror shows a wild-eyed brute of a man with the flush of guilt on his face and a secret smirk on his lips. I clean myself up, splash water on my face, and take a minute to get my head together. Now that the flush of orgasm has faded, I’m as unsettled as before. How can that be? It was just a night of shagging, and she’s just a girl.

  Even as I think the words, I know it’s a lie. She’s not just anyone. She’s Don McElroy’s only child and the best sex I’ve ever had. She did everything I asked and more. She gave all of herself to a complete stranger, without question, willingly, looking like a goddess the entire time. My traitorous dick stirs at the memory.

  A knock on the door interrupts my musings. I jump. Shasta’s muffled voice comes from the other side. “Excuse me, sir? I apologize for the interruption. There’s a Mr. Tarnovsky here to see you. Shall I send him away? He says it’s urgent.”

  “No. It’s fine. Send him to the living room. I’ll be there in a minute.” Following the second splash of cold water on my face, I straighten my clothing, put on my best scowl, and prepare for Nikolay’s impudence.

  “Your Royal Highness, I apologize for the impromptu visit. Thank you for taking time out of your hectic schedule to meet with me.” He bows, a pleasant smile on his face. “Roman sends his regards.” For a brief second, I’m reminded of the old Nicky. The one who shared my dorm room, my best friend, my mate for pub crawls and polo matches. I’ve missed him. If this were a different world, if he hadn’t betrayed me, I’d be happy to see him.

  “Good morning.” To my surprise, it isn’t the memory of my ex-fiancée in his bed that haunts me as much as the picture of him with Everly. His fingers on her porcelain flesh. Their shared smiles. His possessive hand on her back. Now that I know just how special she is, with the feel of her fresh on my cock, I begrudge every finger he ever laid upon her. “Have a seat.” I gesture toward the sofa.

  He pauses at the mirror over the credenza to tweak the knot in his tie. Always preening. Always cocky. “After the way you snubbed me at the Devil’s Playground last time, I thought maybe you were still mad at me over Kitty Cat.”

  I remember every detail of that night. My girlfriend. My bed. My devastation. The ache of my fist after I punched him in the jaw. The only thing minimizing my anger is the way I debauched his ex-girlfriend last night, made her lick my feet, and jack me off. A triumphant smile stretches my face. “You never apologized. Is that why you’re here? Did you finally grow a conscience?”

  His sigh is audible. “I admit that my behavior was less than admirable.” He lounges on the sofa, an arm thrown across the back, crossing an ankle over his knee. I claim the chair across from him, sitting a bit higher so he has to look up at me. Little things like this matter. It’s a subtle clue that he’s on my territory, that I’m the one in control. Power means everything to people like us. “But that was years ago. I’m a different man.” He waves to the butler. “Do you think I could get a drink?”

  “It’s okay, Mr. Hobson. My guest isn’t staying.” I gesture for the man to leave the room and turn back to Nicky. “Say what you need and get out.”

  Nicky rolls his eyes before picking up the previous conversation. “You didn’t really love Kitty, did you? I mean, really love her? After all, she was always such a bitch. And you moved on, right? You never seem to be short of women at your side. I’ve seen the pictures of you on your yacht with all those babes in bikinis. Weren’t you linked to some model? What was her name? Tanya? Tamara?”

  “Tatyana.” The first time I wrapped my fingers around her throat during sex, she’d locked herself in the bathroom and cried for an hour. Needless to say, our breakup had been less than amicable. “And yes, I was in love with Catherine. You knew that, yet you screwed her anyway.” At the time, it felt like someone had ripped my beating heart out of my chest and tossed
into a pit of flaming coals. That was the first, last, and only time I risked my affections on a woman and the end of my friendship with Nikolay Reznik Tarnovsky. “What kind of friend does that?”

  “I did you a favor, and you know it. She shagged half the rugby team behind your back.” He rests a hand on his thigh, drumming his fingers like he’s impatient to move forward. So am I. Reliving past mistakes only makes a person bitter. I need to move on.

  “Maybe.” Kitty had hidden her dark side from me. If I hadn’t caught them together, I might never have known what a lying, deceitful bitch she was. The trajectory of my life would’ve been much different and much more miserable. Leave it to Nick to turn an unpardonable act into a gift.

  “Fine.” He throws a hand up in the air. “I apologize. I’m a horrible person, and it was a rotten thing to do.”

  I stare at him, contemplating his sincerity. He’s too intelligent to be trusted. “Is this your ‘emergency’?” I draw air quotes around the last word. “Did you wake up this morning overcome with guilt? Forgive me if I can’t swallow the sudden change in your personality.”

  “No, I’m here on business, actually.” He smooths the placket of his shirt, something he does when he’s nervous. The gesture pleases me. It means I’ve gained the upper hand in the conversation. “Roman sent me.”

  “Really?” I shift to the edge of the chair, unbuttoning my jacket to lean forward. “Go on.”

  “Let’s discuss it over lunch.” The fabric of his jacket parts to reveal a pin-striped vest. “I can brief you.”

  No matter my feelings about him, the opportunity to lessen Androvia’s problems is paramount. “Let me notify my security team of the change in schedule.”

  While I text Shasta to deal with the logistics, Nick goes to the window. With his back to me, he stares down at the street. I don’t trust him. His cocky attitude, sketchy business deals, and cavalier disregard for other people have made him a despised member of the underground. Roman’s protection is the only thing standing between him and an unmarked grave in the middle of some desert. I almost feel sorry for him.