The Royals Series

by Bay, Louise

  She cried out when I blew across her sex. Her sounds urged me on. I spread the lips of her sex, exposing her clitoris. She tensed. I wasn’t sure if it was in anticipation or embarrassment. I leaned forward and circled the bundle of nerves with my tongue. Her breaths came louder and deeper as I suckled before licking down to her entrance.

  Like nothing I’d ever tasted before. Like springtime—warm, fresh, and inviting. I couldn’t get enough as I delved into her, lapping up the wetness that hadn’t already coated my chin.

  I could stay like this, my face buried in her, for the rest of my days. I reached for my rock-hard cock, which was desperate to taste the sweetness coating my tongue. I dragged my fist up and forced myself to let go; I wasn’t ready to come yet. As soon as I pushed into her I’d be lost—my body would crash through every urge I had to please her in an effort to get to my orgasm.

  I elbowed her thighs open wider still, my tongue connecting with her clitoris as my thumbs delved into her, pulling at her entrance, twisting then circling back. Her body began to shudder and I heard the whisper of my name on her lips. I wanted it louder. I increased the pressure of my tongue and her hands flew into my hair as she called, “Max, my God, Max.”

  Her orgasm spread through her like an electricity bolt, her pussy contracting, pushing against my thumbs. I removed my hands and slid my tongue back to soothe her, feeling her pulse just below the surface of her skin.

  I glanced up at her, her arms overhead as her back began to lower back into the mattress. It was the first time I’d ever had the urge to film a woman before. I’d never need to date again if I had a recording of Harper coming on my tongue like that.

  God, she was perfect when she was undone.

  I moved to her side as she opened her eyes and smiled at me. “You’re good at that,” she said.

  “What am I supposed to say?” I chuckled.

  “Learn how to accept a compliment,” she replied as she pushed herself up then straddled me. “Just say ‘thank you’.”

  I shook my head, my hands going to her hips. Her wetness coated my cock as she shifted back and forward.

  I groaned, her heat seeping into my veins. I wasn’t going to last long. Desperate, I reached for the nightstand. I fumbled with the drawer, had to stretch to reach inside. The wood dug into my wrist and I scrambled for a condom.

  Grinning, she took the square packet before I had a chance to argue and rolled the condom on, tantalizingly slowly, both of us staring at my jutting cock in her hands.

  “It’s not been long, but do you remember how good it feels?” she asked as she squeezed the base of me. “How tight I am?”

  I groaned, needing her to remind me.

  She lifted herself up and positioned the tip at her opening. “How you slide in so deep?”

  “Fuck, Harper. Are you trying to kill me?”

  She scooped up her hair, then let it tumble back down, smoothing her hands over her breasts as she twisted her hips and took me a little deeper. “You remember how you fit so good? You’re almost too big.” She took me in a little more. “Almost.” A little more. “I always think it’s going to be painful, but no.” She placed her hands on my torso, steadying herself, which squeezed her tits together, pushing them nearer me. Her head snapped back and I almost came right there. “It feels too good to be painful,” she continued, twisting her hips, teasing me, knowing I wanted to be in deep. “Do you remember how good it feels?”

  I gripped her hips, trying to do anything I could to prevent myself from jabbing my cock so deep she’d never walk again.

  She let herself sink all the way down, her eyes widening with every movement, then stilled. “I never remember,” she whispered. “I always forget just how good it feels.”

  Patience deserting me, I growled and sat up, spinning her onto her back and pushing back into her. “I’m going to make sure you never forget again.”

  I wanted to fuck her forever.

  * * *

  After spending the night with Harper, I had taken longer than usual to get through everything I needed to do, so I got a later train.

  “I’m home,” I shouted. I could hear the television from the family room. Usually I came back to Connecticut in the week to find Marion clearing up the kitchen, but her car wasn’t in the drive. Was she here alone? “Amanda,” I shouted. I supposed she didn’t need to be babysat anymore but I didn’t like the idea of her being alone, waiting for me to come back.

  “In here,” she yelled over the noise of music and shouting. I took off my jacket and put it on the back of one of the barstools and dropped my cell on the counter. A nice glass of Pinot Noir was what I needed. It had been a tough week. I placed a glass on the counter and pulled out a bottle from the wine fridge.

  “Can I have one of those?” Scarlett asked from behind me.

  “Hey.” I grabbed another glass. “What are you doing here?”

  She slid onto the middle barstool. “I didn’t want to be on my own tonight. Can I stay over?”

  I nodded. She clearly wanted to talk. I poured the wine into her glass as she held the stem.

  “I’m thinking of moving into the city,” she said, tilting her head as she watched her glass fill up. “Sometimes it feels like Connecticut is where I should be in ten years rather than now. Does that make sense?” she asked.

  “It’s good to change things up, I guess. You’ve never lived in Manhattan. What would you do about work?” She worked at an investment bank just outside Westhaven.

  She shrugged.

  Fuck, I hoped she wasn’t going to ask me for a job.

  “I thought I’d apply for a transfer. There’s a treasury position in Manhattan at the moment. It’s a level up, but I have the experience.”

  I nodded, relieved we weren’t about to have a difficult conversation. My phone vibrated on the counter with a message, Harper’s name flashing up on the screen. I watched as Scarlett saw the message, then met my gaze.

  She didn’t say anything, so I grabbed my phone and opened the message. Manhattan’s no fun when the King’s not in residence.

  I grinned and glanced up at Scarlett, whose eyebrows were so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline. “Anything you care to share?”

  I swallowed my smile and picked up my glass. “Just work.” I took a sip.

  “Yeah, that looked like work.”

  Thoughts of trying to keep my feelings for Harper professional had long since disappeared. Harper had been clear she didn’t want to be seen as the girl fucking the boss, and I didn’t want to muddy waters between professional and personal any more than I already had. In the office we’d agreed to just avoid each other. Easily done as the morning meetings about JD Stanley were the only times we really saw each other. Some distance in the office was a good thing.

  But all the distance disappeared as soon as we were back in her apartment—for some reason she refused to come up to my place, even though it was bigger.

  “Hey, Dad,” Amanda said, interrupting the silence.

  “Hey, beautiful,” I replied, bending to kiss my daughter hello. I wondered how soon she’d no longer want to kiss me. Parents kept warning me about the teenage years, assuring me our disagreement over her dress was only the tip of a very large iceberg.

  “You going to text Harper back?” Scarlett asked, grinning at me. If the Pinot Noir hadn’t been so good, I’d have tipped the rest of the bottle over her head. My daughter wouldn’t miss the reference and Scarlett knew it.

  “Harper texted?” Amanda asked predictably. “Can you ask her if she’ll come help me get ready for the dance? I want her to do my eyeliner just like hers.”

  I put my phone back on the counter. “No, I’m not asking Harper to come out to Connecticut to help you get ready. She’s not your personal stylist.”

  “She’s too busy attending to someone else’s needs in this family, isn’t she?” Scarlett joked and I shot her a dirty look.

  “What?” Amanda asked.

  “Let’s ta
lk about your dating life, shall we, Scarlett?” I asked.

  She tilted her head. “Oh, so you admit Harper’s part of your dating life then?”

  Shit. I was usually better at avoiding Scarlett’s interrogations. I turned toward the refrigerator. “Have you eaten?” I asked Amanda, trying to ignore my sister.

  “Tell me more about Harper, Amanda.”

  Inwardly I groaned.

  “I want to be just like her when I’m older. You’ve seen her, right?” Amanda babbled on about how great Harper was, how wise she was about boys and what a great fashion sense she had. It sounded like Amanda’d known her for years rather than only spent time with her twice.

  “So, dinner?” I asked, hoping to get them to change the subject.

  “Can I have the cold lasagna in there?” Amanda asked, gesturing to the fridge.

  Sounded like a great idea. Marion had even left a salad, too.

  “Harper’s great, isn’t she?” Amanda asked.

  I glanced at my sister, who held my gaze and asked Amanda, “Do you think she likes your dad?”

  “Scarlett,” I warned.

  “Does she have a boyfriend?” Scarlett asked, which was a question I had a little more interest in. Had Harper talked to Amanda about anyone?

  “No, she says she’s too focused on work,” Amanda replied. “When I talked to her, she pretty much agreed boys were douchebags who should be avoided at all costs.”

  I couldn’t hold back a chuckle, which won me a suspicious glance from my sister. “She’s a very sensible woman.”

  I put the salad on the counter. “Can you get plates?” I asked Amanda. She hopped off her stool and began to set things out as I dished up the lasagna.

  “You know we just want you to be happy,” my sister said, lowering her voice. “And from what I can remember, Harper is beautiful.” She clinked her glass against mine before taking another sip. “Amanda clearly likes her.”

  I handed her a plate of food, pretending I wasn’t listening.

  “Have you thought about asking her out?”

  Ignoring Scarlett, I spooned pasta onto mine and Amanda’s plates, then placed the dish back in the refrigerator. My sister bugged me about getting a girlfriend almost as much as Amanda did, but why were they fixating on Harper? That was my job. When I turned back to the counter, Amanda and Scarlett were both staring at me as if waiting for me to say something.

  “What?” I asked, grabbing the seat next to them and taking a forkful of food.

  “Have you thought about asking Harper out on a date, Dad?” Amanda asked, as if I were the most ludicrous person she’d ever had to deal with.

  I swallowed and put some salad on my plate. “What is with you two? I’ve told you, Harper works for me. What is your obsession with her?”

  “I like her.” Amanda shrugged.

  Scarlett grinned. “And that should be reason enough. Why don’t you take her to dinner? What could one evening hurt?”

  Little did they know trying to keep time spent with Harper limited to just one evening would be impossible. Whatever boundaries I set with her got torn down and overrun. We’d never really been in Vegas. Well, I hadn’t managed it anyway. Even here, with my sister and daughter, a situation that had only ever been completely consuming, I was wondering what Harper was doing, who she was spending time with. Did she feel the same? And if she did, then what? Would she come out here to Connecticut? Meet my family?

  Did I want her to?

  “You think I should date, huh?” I asked. Scarlett was right; it was good that Amanda seemed to like Harper. If my daughter was open to it, maybe I should ask Harper out. Officially.

  Amanda tapped on my head with her fist. “Come on, Dad, duh. I’ve only been saying this my whole life.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “What does okay mean?” Amanda said.

  “It means please don’t speak with your mouth full,” I said, glaring at my daughter.

  She giggled and swallowed. “Sorry. But what does ‘okay’ mean?”

  “It means, okay, I’ll think about asking her out.” The situation with Harper felt like a jigsaw puzzle with too many pieces. Harper working for me complicated things, and her father was the founder of JD Stanley. We also lived in the same building. I’d never really dated before—I was bound to fuck things up. There were a lot of downsides. One of Scarlett’s friends would probably be less complicated to date. There would be fewer aftershocks if it didn’t work out.

  But she wouldn’t be Harper.

  “You will?” Amanda squealed. “Does that mean she can come help me get ready for the dance? Can I call her now to ask?”

  “I said I’d think about asking her to dinner, not employ her to do your makeup. Jeez.”

  Amanda paused, which meant she was thinking, which could only be bad. “You could make her dinner, here. After I leave for the dance.”

  I could. It would be nice to see Harper in Connecticut. It wasn’t the worst idea Amanda had ever had.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said and Amanda squealed again.

  I glanced across at Scarlett, who beamed at me. “What?” I asked her.

  She shrugged. “Nothing.”

  Amanda abandoned her plate of food and headed toward the den, no doubt to find her phone. “Can I call her now? Check if she’s free? This is going to be so much fun. It will be like, the best night ever!”

  “You need to lower your expectations,” I told my daughter. “And prepare yourself for the fact that she might say no.”

  She paused and spun around to face me. “So what if she does? You’ve always told me that you don’t take no for an answer.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. I was used to getting what I wanted. And right now, I wanted Harper.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Harper

  I couldn’t ever remember being so nervous. I’d rehearsed and prepared for the Goldman’s pitch and thirty minutes ago I was feeling pretty confident. But as the appointment grew closer, my heartrate had started to speed as if I were sprinting across hot coals.

  “So, you’ll handle any questions about the process?” Max asked.

  I nodded, picking at the hem of my skirt as we sat in the back of the cab to Midtown. I wished I’d brought some water. My throat was dry and tight. They’d have water when we arrived, wouldn’t they?

  It was the questions I was most worried about. I’d been practicing my ass off for this presentation. It might be a warm-up to the JD Stanley pitch, but it was still important. There was six figures in profit to be lost if I fucked this up. That might be a drop in Wall Street’s ocean, but it seemed like a lot of money to me.

  My parts of the presentation? Those I’d own. Unlike Max, who appeared to speak off the cuff, I’d written myself a script and memorized it. I’d practiced out loud at home over and over. I knew exactly when to pause, when to ask people to turn the pages in their slide deck, and when to draw emphasis. As long as I hadn’t forgotten the printouts, I’d be fine. I scrambled at my feet, reaching into my business carryall to make sure the papers were all there. They were. Just like the last thirty-six times I’d checked.

  “Don’t be nervous,” Max said, smoothing down his tie. “It will be fine. The rehearsal was good.”

  How would he know if this was going to be fine? Sure, he’d seen the rehearsal, but when the pressure was on, no one knew how things would turn out. I overcame nerves and pressure by being over-prepared—but I couldn’t prepare for questions, at least not all of them.

  “Easy for you to say,” I replied.

  “I mean it,” he said, placing his hand on my knee.

  I pushed it off. The last thing I needed was to be thinking about him naked. “Sorry, I need to . . .” I wasn’t sure what I needed.

  He glanced out the window. “Okay, I get it. What if I was to ask you a favor? Would that help take your mind off things?” he asked.

  I didn’t respond, unsure of everything other than my script.

  “
Amanda wants you to help her get ready for the dance. I said I’d ask.”

  That wasn’t what I’d expected at all. “In Connecticut?” I asked.

  He nodded. “You don’t have to come, but I know Amanda would like you to. She suggested you and I have dinner together when she left.”

  “Is she trying to set us up?” I laughed.

  “I think so. She’s a big fan of yours.” Max smiled. “Runs in the family, apparently.”

  I grinned. Max and I hadn’t talked about how we felt about each other, so his comment was unexpected. I wanted to reach for him, kiss him, but I didn’t. I needed to keep my head in the game.

  “I’d like you to come,” he said.

  I liked Amanda, but I didn’t know how I felt about her setting me and Max up on a date. “Is that weird, having your daughter set you up?”

  Max tilted his head. “It should be, I guess. But she goes on and on about me getting marrie—dating. I’m used to it.”

  “Have you told her that we’re . . .”

  “Fucking like bunnies? Funnily enough, no,” he said, chuckling.

  Was that what we were doing? Just fucking? I wasn’t sure. I liked the guy, really liked him, but he was my boss and he had a daughter and this whole secret life in Connecticut I’d never seen.

  “I think maybe she’s picked up on the fact that I like you,” he said. Butterflies in my stomach took my mind off my quickening pulse. “I know my sister has.”

  Liked me? Did that mean it wasn’t just fucking for him? I wasn’t sure it was for me anymore either.

  “Scarlett?” I asked.

  “Yeah, she’s made a few comments when your name’s come up.” He slung his arm across the back of the seat. “Look, don’t feel any pressure, but I’d like it if you came up, even if it isn’t for the dance—it’s only three weeks away. You might have plans.”

  “I don’t.”

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “You don’t have plans?” he asked. I shook my head.