by Piper Rayne
Adrian grabs my arm and slides us to the far end of the booth where we might be able to hide. He leaves a few hundred on the table, taking my hand and peeking over the edge of the booth. My heart races even though I have nothing to lose. He’s the runaway. I’m a grown adult.
JC heads to the table with the girls, which makes how he found us click together. They posted pictures, probably tagging themselves at the bar.
Adrian uses the opportunity to escape the booth and lead us to the back hallway.
“We have to sneak out the back door,” he tells me right before his back straightens and his shoulders rise. Like a transformer, the casual guy I was doing shots with and leaned lazily against in the booth vanishes and is replaced with a strong and confident prince.
He walks us right through the swinging doors of the small kitchen, sliding money to the dishwasher, and out the back door. Once we’re in the fresh air, a sprinkle of rain lands on my face.
I stop walking, staring at the dark sky.
Adrian tugs on my hand. “Come on.”
We jog up the stairs, down the small space between the brick wall and building, and step around empty kegs and garbage. When we reach the street, Adrian looks back and forth while the rain comes down harder.
“Why not just let John Cena take us back to the hotel?” I ask.
He stares at me for a moment. If only I could read what’s transpiring behind those gorgeous blue eyes. “I’m enjoying this too much.”
I smile because a small part of me is too.
We walk, and when car headlights light up behind us, Adrian turns down another street, but the car follows slowly.
“Fuck.”
We both run like teenagers from the cops even though we’ve done nothing wrong, but it’s exhilarating, and I can’t stop laughing as he pulls me down different streets and over the fences of people’s backyards.
Finally, an alcove of a building offers us a hiding place. Adrian practically tosses me in and covers my hysterical laughter with his hand over my mouth. John Cena drives by slowly, the car behind him honking until he speeds up.
“Hotel?” Adrian whispers.
For a moment, all those fears I had in the bar disappear because his strong body is pressed to mine. The skin of his palm is over my lips. Our soaked bodies and drenched clothes somehow make this more romantic than it should feel.
I answer, going with my instincts. “Yes.”
I laugh again when he peers left and right as if we’re criminals hiding from the law. He’s a prince for heaven’s sake. We walk to the corner, cross the street, and right into a hotel lobby as if he knew it was there the whole time.
I look down at our drenched clothes, droplets of water falling from the hem of his suit jacket and my dress.
“A room with a king bed please,” he asks the woman working the front desk.
She nods, typing on her computer. “Perfect, and how will you be paying, sir?”
Adrian grabs a few more hundreds—which are now soaked—from his money clip. “Might have to let those dry a little.”
I pull out my wallet and slide a credit card over to her, but Adrian holds his hand over mine. The woman looks at both of us. The more of a scene we make, the better the chance Adrian might trigger a memory, so he hands me back my credit card, putting down another hundred for the security deposit.
We head over to the elevators and wait for it to arrive. Once inside, Adrian presses the button for the fifth floor, and it rises. I exhale a breath when the doors slide open, but it only lasts a minute until I step out into the hall and Adrian grabs my wrist, circles me back around to him, and smashes his lips to mine.
It’s clear then that this was the right decision because I’d be stupid not to have the prince for a night. A saying I’ve heard my entire life rings in my head when his tongue slides against mine.
It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
This time, it’s just better to have had the prince than not at all.
Chapter Seven
Sierra
Wow. Adrian can kiss.
I shouldn’t be surprised.
He’s a prince. Of course he can kiss until I feel like my legs might give out.
As his lips slow and his hand entwines with mine, he guides me down the hall. “Let’s get out of these wet clothes.”
I find myself at a loss for words, a rare event. Usually I’m balls to the wall. I’ll act how I want to act and if you don’t like it, I don’t give a shit, but as the light on the door lock turns from red to green, my stomach clenches and my throat squeezes.
We step into a typical hotel room. At least typical to me.
“Is this slumming it for you?” I say, shutting the blinds that reveal a view of a Brooklyn apartment complex.
“No.”
I turn around to find his suit jacket already off and him halfway through the buttons of his shirt. Someone’s as eager as I am, I guess.
“Come on, you’ve really spent the night in a room like this before?” I slip off my heels and place my purse on the built-in desk.
“Can we forget who I am right now?”
His voice is low and sincere and respectful. He’s probably practiced his entire life how to avoid losing his temper for no reason. Unlike me, who can lash out without notice.
“You want me to forget you’re Prince Adrian Marx of Sandsal?”
He finishes unbuttoning his shirt, splaying it open and peeling the wet fabric off his skin. My gaze fixes to his taut stomach with a few small ripples. His bicep muscles aren’t overly developed like his bodyguard’s, but present and noticeable. It’s obvious he takes care of his body.
“Yes, because tonight with you, I’ve never felt like less of a prince and I love it.” He steps up to me. I hold my breath when his finger holds steady on the zipper at the back of my dress. “May I?”
I nod, my eyes locked with his.
“Stay in the bubble with me?” he whispers.
The sound of the zipper through the room is louder than a blaring television.
“Right now, I’m a guy who spent an evening with a gorgeous woman and wants to spend the rest of the night showing her how much tonight meant to me.”
“You sure have your lines down.”
He slides my dress off my shoulder. His hand warms my cool skin as the other side glides off my shoulder and the wet fabric falls to my feet. His breath hiccups and his gaze strays down my body, taking in my black bra and panties. A matching set I picked out just in case, back when my bravado was high, secure in the fact that I could handle what I assumed would be a cocky prince. He’s so different than I ever thought he would be.
“I only speak the truth,” he says and steps closer.
My nipples tighten and poke through my sheer bra when his chest meets mine. Warmth radiates off him while I’m still chilled from the rain.
Reaching around my body, he unlatches the clasp of my bra and he mimics the same movement he did with my dress, sliding my straps down my arms until it joins my dress on the floor. He takes me in for a second, sucking in a breath with wide eyes before he pulls back my wet red hair so it lays across my back. Then he tips my chin up with his forefinger and descends on my mouth, capturing my lips in a kiss that promises a night of cherished caresses and exploration.
I melt into him. It’s impossible not to as our tongues and chests meet with the sound of rain hitting the window.
Ending the kiss too soon, his lips scatter across my chin to my earlobe. “Let’s get you warm.”
His hand tucks inside mine and he leads me toward the bathroom, never letting go of my hand as he turns on the shower and I watch steam filling the small space. He positions me by the sink, his hands sliding my panties down my legs and placing them on the counter. I swallow back my anticipation, watching him unbuckle his belt, unbutton and unzip his slacks, and finally push them down his legs. But there aren’t a pair of black boxer briefs under his pants as I’d assumed. Instead th
ey’re black but with a genie pot with writing on the legs that says, “Keep rubbing. You might just get your wish.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, which ruins our moment.
He glances down and laughs himself. “Hey, these are my favorite ones.”
I step closer, my hand landing on the large bulge pressing against the fabric and rub down the hardness of his length.
“Make a wish, Sierra,” he says.
I slip my hand past the waistband and close my fist around him. He inhales deeply, the smile falling off his face for a moment.
“I think it’s already coming true,” I whisper.
I have no idea if it’s the fact that his cock is in my hand or if it’s my words, but his hand snakes around my neck and he smashes his lips to mine in an unrelenting kiss that says something very different than the kiss earlier. This one promises me a night of screaming and orgasms.
“Let me help you there.” His hands leave my body to take off his boxers, which he kicks out of the way, not treating them as preciously as he did my panties.
Opening the shower curtain, I step into the hot water. It removes the chill from my skin right away. Adrian joins me and positions the nozzle perfectly so that the water isn’t spraying in our faces. He picks up the tiny bottle of shampoo and cups his hand while squeezing out a small bit. I laugh and he looks at me, a bit dumbfounded.
“I’ll need practically the whole bottle.”
He evaluates my long hair and nods, squeezing the bottle until it indents. I steal it, putting some shampoo in my hands and running them through his hair. For a moment, all I think about is how he probably uses more expensive hair products than me, but he asked that I don’t treat him like a prince, so I keep my mouth shut.
His fingers run along my scalp as he rubs in the shampoo, massaging it into a lather. “Man, you do have a lot of hair.”
To make it easier, I turn around and he steps closer until his body is pressed to mine, his dick pressed to the small of my back.
“It’s beautiful. Your hair. I love the color.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t say anything about the rug matching the drapes.”
It’s not uncommon. Almost every man I’ve slept with said something the first time they saw me naked. Not sure what the fascination is. You don’t see brunettes getting the same jokes about their bush.
“I’m more of a breast man.” His sudsy hands slide out of my hair and up under my arms, molding to my breasts, his thumbs running over my nipples.
Leaning in closer, he takes the bar of soap, having to peel back the paper and toss it out of the shower. He runs the soap over my body as his lips press kisses to my ear, sighing every so often. The man drowns me in a wanton feeling.
“Let’s rinse. I’m growing impatient, and I don’t want the constrictions of a small hotel shower.”
When I swivel back around, the cascade of water rinses the shampoo from my hair, and he helps with his hands.
We change places, and I take the opportunity to hand him the conditioner. “Next step.”
He shakes his head. “Girls.”
But he puts it in my hair, working it through the strands like a professional. The man’s hair screams hair masks and moisturizer, so I know he’s probably had this done to himself a bunch of times.
I sink to my knees with the bar of soap, running it along his muscled legs and up his torso, my tongue darting out and teasing his dick. His hands fall to my wet hair and he cups my face as I look up at him with the tip of his dick right at my lips.
“May I?” I ask.
“Always.” A smirk appears until I take him into my mouth fully. “Shit.”
Placing my hand at the base of his dick, I lick and suck him until his hands reach under my arms and he urges me up.
“You all warm now? Time to get out.”
He changes positions with me and helps me rinse the conditioner while I laugh at his sudden urgency. I’d love to know how many blowjobs he’s gotten from other women. Actually, I’m not sure I do want to know.
“I’m warm,” I say.
He opens the shower and I step out on the small rug. He follows suit, leaving the water running.
“Water conservation?” I say.
“The steam will keep you warm until you’re dried off.”
I smile at his thoughtfulness as he wraps a towel around my body and works it over my skin, soaking up any droplet of water he finds. After he’s dry too, he turns off the water, takes the towel from my hand, and picks me up so I’m straddling him, carrying me into the bedroom.
He stops briefly by his pants and pulls condoms from one pocket.
“There’s some in my purse too.”
His eyes find mine and I get rewarded with a kiss. “Good thing you’re prepared.” Laying me across the bed, he spreads my legs. His knuckles run up the length of my inner thigh, teasing me. “I love your skin.”
“I love your touch.” I quiver when his knuckles graze between my legs.
“I can’t wait to find out every spot that drives you wild.” His finger runs down the length of my center and back up.
My hips buck off the mattress, wanting him to press into me. But he only continues teasing me, the same finger running along my stomach, then up and around a nipple, until he slides it into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around his fingertip, so he’s reminded of exactly what I’ll be doing to his dick again later on. He watches with lust-filled eyes that only make me wetter.
Adrian brings the foil packet to his lips and tears it open, retrieving the condom and dropping the packet carelessly. He slides the condom down his length and props one knee on the bed, followed by the other one. Bending, he casts kisses along my hot, waiting flesh.
When he captures my mouth, his tongue dives in and he eases himself into my center, my legs falling aside to make room for his hips. From there, our hands grip, our bodies clench, and every thrust feels more sensitive and more earth-shattering than the one before, increasing the tension in my body.
His lips leave mine but only to move along my jaw as his hands grab mine, raising them until he has them secured above my head. Something about not being able to touch a man has always made me hot. My orgasm crests, teetering over the edge until I plummet into bliss.
I have no idea how long I’m outside of myself when I hear his labored breath in my ear. “I’m going to fuck you no less than five times tonight, each one longer than the one before, each one in a different position. You’re going to ride my cock and my face. I’m going to fuck you from behind, sideways, and on every surface in this place. Because I don’t think I can get enough of you.”
Holy shit, Prince Adrian is a dirty talker.
That’s all it takes for my body to scream mercy. My eyes shut and stars fill my vision as the tension in my body slowly leaves me with the euphoria of another orgasm.
He pumps into me a few more times before stilling inside me with a groan. Seconds later, he falls onto his back, taking me with him, and we lay there until our heartbeats slow.
Hands down, the best sex of my life.
Now I wonder if his promises will be fulfilled post orgasm. That will show me what kind of guy he really is.
Chapter Eight
Adrian
My eyes open from under a curtain of red hair. Sierra’s warm, naked body is plastered to mine.
I slide her hair off my face and slide out of bed without disturbing her. My suit is wrinkled but dry and I slide it on, checking to make sure she’s still sleeping.
Once I’m dressed, I take her in one more time. She’s definitely a force to be reckoned with. She was more than willing to let me fulfill my promise that spurred her second orgasm last night.
Memories of last night run through my head like a highlight reel of key moments—her kneeling in front of me, her straddling my face, her ass perched in front of me as I used our third condom on her bent over the bed.
I shake my head and walk out the door with the expert quietness of a thief.
Heading toward the elevators, past a housekeeper’s cart, I dip my head just in case. When I get to the lobby, the same girl from last night is leaving with street clothes on, waving goodbye to her co-workers with what looks like relief.
When I walk outside, it’s like a reset button was clicked with the morning sun. There’s no sign of the rain from last night, not even a little puddle along the side of the road. I walk against the rush of families with strollers and couples walking hand in hand. The weight of my phone in my pocket is like a pinprick with every step. Sooner or later, I have to face the music. I can’t hide out for the rest of my life.
My recurring dream of running away from my responsibilities dries up with the light of day. If I don’t want to be found, I can’t very well see my family when I want. I’d have to leave them behind and that’s just not an option.
Eventually I’ll be king, and I fear that time is coming sooner than I want.
Stopping at a park, I pull out my phone and press the on button. I start to check my messages. Yeah, no. I shove it back into my pocket and head across the street to a bakery. The line is long, and without a hat, I keep my head down, looking at the cement floor. I doubt they’d think I was a prince—what with me looking like I slept on a park bench—but you can never be too careful.
Ten minutes later and without anyone recognizing me, I’m armed with two coffees, a bunch of pastries, and bagels with cream cheese. When I walk into the hotel, my phone is vibrating once again. I stop in the lobby outside the gift shop and pull it out.
Declan: You have ten minutes.
Declan: Ten minutes are up.
Declan: I’m calling Jean.
Jean: Adrian? Come on. Not again.
Jean: Sooner or later we’ll find you. You’re the prince. You can’t hide forever.
I scroll farther into the night after Declan had no choice but to call my mom.
