by Isla Olsen
“Your choice, Luka.”
I should just let my brother proceed with his plans and focus on my work, but for some reason the thought of Aleksandr spending the following day with the American, talking and laughing and—no doubt—flirting, prompts an unpleasant reaction inside me that I can’t quite explain. I just don’t like the idea of it.
The next day, despite my better judgment, I head over to the East Wing to meet the American for his tour of the portrait galleries. When he arrives, he can’t hide his surprise upon seeing me waiting for him instead of my brother. “Prince Aleksandr has been detained,” I lie. “I hope you don’t mind if I take his place?”
He shakes his head. “No, not at all.”
I regret this decision almost instantly. Even just the sound of his voice has an effect on me, and if I’m not careful I’m going to end up in an embarrassing predicament. Another embarrassing predicament, that is.
But, fortunately, the American seems too interested in all the paintings to pay much attention to anything else, and after a little while I begin to relax and surprise myself to find I actually enjoy his company.
“Where’s your shadow?” he asks after we’ve been walking around for a little while.
“My shadow?”
He nods. “Boyd. The Scottish guard. He usually keeps pretty close to you.”
“He doesn’t accompany me everywhere. And today’s his day off.” I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re not planning an attack on me, are you?”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “No, you’re safe.”
We continue with the tour and I can’t help being intrigued by the level of fascination he’s showing. “What made you choose this area of study?”
He startles in his step, as if surprised by the question. I suppose it would be a little unexpected considering the way I’ve been avoiding him recently. “It’s kind of a long story…so, when I was in elementary school my best friend was Joseph Kowalski. He was born in the states, but his parents, his grandmother and his older siblings had come out at the end of the Cold War and they all spoke Polish. His grandma actually spoke no English at all, and his parents were always much more comfortable speaking their native language. The more time I spent there, the more of the language I picked up and I eventually became fluent.” He smiles wistfully at the memory. “Their house was always so warm and inviting. I loved everything about being there, the language, the culture, the food. And it got me interested in learning about other cultures and languages.”
I nod, finding myself unexpectedly interested in his story. “Are you still friends with him? Joseph?”
He shrugs. “We drifted apart when we went to different high schools. We’re on Facebook, though.”
I nod. “So, that’s where you learned Polish. What about your other languages?”
“French and German I learned at school, and then Russian and Ukrainian I picked up at college. My original major was Eastern European Cultural Studies, and it was easier for research to know a few more of the languages. Especially for historical sources. And then once I’d learned Russian and Ukrainian I was able to add a languages major to my degree.”
“That’s quite impressive.”
He offers a wry grin. “No need to sound too surprised.”
7
JAI
I can’t say I blame King Lukas for how he’s been avoiding me the past week. I did walk in on him riding a dildo, after all. And lingered. Of course, he has nothing to be embarrassed about. At all. But I can still see how the situation might be a little awkward, especially for someone as uptight as the king.
So considering all of that—and the fact that he never really seemed to like me in the first place—the fact that he offered to take over this tour when Prince Aleksandr got tied up is both confusing and intriguing. Even more so is the fact we’ve been able to have some actual conversation while he’s been showing me the paintings. It’s beyond obvious history’s not his favorite subject, but he’s still quite knowledgeable, if not entirely enthusiastic.
We’re strolling down what is known as the Queens’ Gallery when I spot a beautiful tapestry that tugs on a memory. It takes a moment for me to place it, but when I do I’m practically bouncing on the balls of my feet with excitement.
“Has this tapestry always been here?” I ask the king. “It hasn’t been moved from somewhere else?”
He shakes his head, his brows drawn together in confusion. “No, I don’t believe so. This is its original position.”
With a little squeak of anticipation, I approach the tapestry and pull the corner aside.
“What are you doing?” Lukas demands. “That’s quite old, you know.”
But I ignore him as my fingers search the wall behind the tapestry until finally…I find the latch and push the door open.
“Oh! This is it! This is the sex room!”
“The what?”
“The sex room, this is where—” I catch the look of confusion on the king’s face and it takes me by surprise. “Wait, do you not know this? Is it possible that I, an ignorant American, know something about your family history that you don’t?”
“Would you care to enlighten me?” he says through gritted teeth.
“With pleasure. Back in the 1700s, your ancestor, Yelizavetta Romansky, was quite the—shall we say—free spirit. She took hundreds of lovers over her lifetime and she met them in secret right here.” I gesture to the secret room we’ve just found. “Well, the ones she screwed at this palace, anyway. There are probably other sex rooms at other palaces.”
I head into the room, and of course King Stick-Up-His-Butt starts blustering a protest. “What are you—? Why—?”
“Duh—I found the sex room. As if I’m not going to check it out!”
I grab his wrist and tug him inside the room with me, then I press the little latch that prompts the secret door to close. The look of horror on his face is priceless.
“What did you do? We’re stuck in here now!”
“Relax…the door will open back up just fine. But I want to explore this room a little first.”
“You could have done that with the door open,” he points out.
“And then everyone would know this room exists—do you really want every man and his dog knowing about your secret sex room?”
“It’s not my secret sex room. I’m still not sure I believe you that it’s anyone’s secret sex room. It must have had some other use.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “Such as?”
His face takes on a thoughtful expression before his eyes light in triumph. “A hideout! It was probably designed as a hideout for the family for when the palace was under attack.”
I shrug. “You’re probably right.”
His mouth falls open, as if he’s flabbergasted that I’m agreeing with him. “I’m right?”
I shrug again. “That was probably its original purpose, sure. But this palace has only been attacked once. That was over two hundred years ago and they barely even made it past the main gate. I’m sure over the years with this room going unused it found a different purpose.”
“As a sex room?” he asks with a derisive smirk.
I shrug. “I’ll show you my sources if you want. There are primary sources—diaries of Yelizavetta’s lovers with detailed accounts of some of the stuff that went on in here. And let me tell you, people in the olden days were kinky bastards. Fifty Shades has nothing on that shit.”
“What did they do?”
I blink in surprise, thrown off for a moment by the question. I quickly gather myself, though, and think back to everything I’d learned about Yelizavetta and her many lovers. It had definitely been the most interesting research I’d ever done.
“Hmm…hot wax. Bondage. Role play…”
“What else?” he asks, surprising me with his sudden curiosity.
“Orgies. She was very big on those. The more men the merrier.”
“Only men? Not other women?”
I shake my hea
d. “Only men. They would take it in turns to pleasure her. And they’d pleasure each other while they were waiting.”
“Go on,” he says in a hoarse whisper, now hanging on my every word.
“Yelizavetta would often take two of her lovers inside her at once,” I say, my voice quiet, my eyes locked with Lukas’s. “There’s one account from a guy who was surprised to be able to feel the other man’s cock through Yelizavetta. They loved the sensation of their cocks moving together so much they started doing it on their own, without Yelizavetta between them.”
He’s gotten so close to me, I can smell hints of apple and strawberries on his breath. On instinct, I jut my hips forward a little, causing out cocks to brush together. And he’s unmistakably hard.
He lets out a soft hiss at the contact, his eyes falling closed. But he doesn’t move away. And when his eyes open again, the desire in them is so potent it takes my breath away.
I tilt my head up and brush my lips to his. It’s just for a second and it’s the briefest of touches, because as soon as I do it, it occurs to me maybe I’ve gone too far. Maybe I’ve been too presumptuous.
But a moment later his mouth is on mine again and this time he’s the instigator. And this time it doesn’t stop with a brief brush of our lips; it’s deep and devouring and hungry.
His tongue runs over my lips, begging entry, and I let him in. I grab onto the back of his hair, pulling him even closer as our tongues twine together in a needy, desperate, breathless kiss.
What the fuck is happening right now? How in the hell am I kissing the king? How is he kissing me back?
And not just that. Our bodies are molded against each other, our hard cocks rubbing together. He pushes one of his legs between mine and I’m a fucking mountain of need as I practically hump his thigh.
“Do you have…supplies?” he murmurs.
I lean my head back so I can arch an eyebrow at him. “What? You think I just carry that stuff around?”
He shrugs. “Possibly.”
“Well, I don’t”
“That’s unfortunate.”
Is he saying what I think he’s saying? That if it weren’t for a lack of a condom and lube right now he’d want to fuck me? Or he’d want me to fuck him?
Either way, I’d totally be on board. My mind flashes to the scene I witnessed the other day. I haven’t been able to stop picturing him riding my cock the way he rode that dildo, and I swear here and now that I will never venture anywhere without a condom and lube in my pocket ever again.
Fortunately, there are still a few things we can do without the necessary supplies, and King Lukas seems more than happy to explore those options.
His eager hands find the fly of my jeans, tugging it open and pulling out my straining cock. I groan as he palms my dick, his hands gliding along the sensitive skin.
I’m about eighty percent sure I’m hallucinating when he drops to the floor in front of me. The king of Korova cannot possibly be on his knees for me. He couldn’t possibly…
But he is. And when he wraps his hot, wet mouth around the tip of my cock it’s all I can do not to come straightaway.
“Fuck-fuck-fuck. Fuuucckkk…” My head falls back against the wall, the curse falling from my lips over and over again as he takes me deeper.
I feel what might be a chuckle vibrating around my cock, but it can’t be. King Stick-Up-His-Butt doesn’t do laughter. I don’t have the mental capacity to analyze it, though, because my brain cells are pretty much fried right now.
And that’s probably why I decide to take a grip of his hair and start thrusting into his throat. Over and over again, hard and deep. There’s this tiny little voice inside my head telling me choking the king with my dick is not a good idea, but it’s so faint I can easily block it out. Besides, Lukas seems to like it. His pupils are blown wide with lust and one of his hands is frantically stroking his very hard cock, while the other digs into one of my hips. Gonna have some bruises there tomorrow…
I feel the familiar tug in my balls as my climax approaches and I ease up on my thrusts, deciding I don’t want to read the headline Korovan King Chokes to Death on Tutor’s Cum on any news sites tomorrow. Lukas doesn’t let me pull out completely, though, and he continues to suck and lick all around my cock as I hurtle over the edge and spill into his mouth.
He laps up every last drop, his fist still working frantically as he chases his own release. Soon enough, he lets out a strangled groan, his body tensing up as he shoots into his hand. And once again, all I want to do is drop to my knees and lick up the mess.
And, fortunately, this time I’m allowed to. I join Lukas on the floor and bring his hand to my mouth, running my tongue over his fingers and cleaning up every drop of his cum. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to taste this straight from the source.
We tuck our dicks away and I let us out of the secret room.
“That didn’t happen,” Lukas mutters, not at all unexpectedly, once we’re back in the hallway.
I offer a wry smirk. “Of course. That was just a very vivid hallucination brought on by the sex room. Or perhaps we were possessed by the Yelizavetta’s ghost or something.”
“I think we should stay out of the sex room.”
“Ha! So you admit it’s a sex room!”
8
LUKAS
I walk back to my suite in a complete daze. My mind is a tangle of a million thoughts, none of which I have the desire to unravel right now.
As I reach the privacy of my rooms, there’s one thought that seems to be drowning out all the others. It’s my father’s voice, loud and clear as though I’m fifteen years old again and he’s looming over me, his face contorted with anger and disgust after catching me kissing a visiting diplomat’s son.
“This is not how future kings behave, Lukas! Future kings kiss girls. Future kings fuck girls. Future kings are not faggots! Do you understand me?”
His tone and his expression made it clear there was no possible answer except for a contrite, “Yes, sir.”
“Let me be absolutely clear, Lukas. If I hear one mere whisper that you’ve continued with this…perversion…”—his lip curled up in disgust at the word— “there will be consequences. Dire consequences.”
“Yes, sir.”
I let out a heavy sigh and close the bedroom door behind me, leaning back against it, my head resting on the polished wood.
I run my tongue around the inside of my mouth. I can still taste the American. Jai. I suppose it’s time I started calling him by his name now I’ve had his cock in my mouth. Christ, even just the memory of taking him down my throat—hearing him groan and plead and beg for more, fucking my throat with reckless need until he came in a rush, gripping tight to my hair—has me turned on all over again, my cock thickening as if I were still a teenager with no control over myself.
I shake my head and clench my hands into fists, willing the erection away. Then I stride into my bathroom and retrieve a bottle of mouthwash from under the sink.
If only the memories were as easy to wash away as the taste…
The only course of action I find reasonable at this point is avoidance. I figure it worked for me before, and if I’d continued in that stead and just let Alik take Jai on the tour of the portrait gallery instead of going myself I wouldn’t be in this predicament right now. I wouldn’t have gotten dragged into that secret room and I wouldn’t have given into temptation like that. I wouldn’t have gotten down on my knees, taken his thick cock in my mouth, and let him use me like a back alley whore, loving every second of it.
Ignoring the thoughts running rampant in my mind, keeping me up at night and causing me to resort to my hand far more often than I should be—that’s not something I’ve had much success at. But avoiding the man? That’s something I can do.
A few days after the incident, I’ve decided to spend the morning in my garage. I have no meetings and nothing overly pressing to attend to. And when I’m working on my cars is really the only time I feel I can relax
and clear my mind of other thoughts.
After a few hours of tinkering away, I decide to pack up my tools and head back inside for some lunch and to get working on my afternoon tasks. As I’m exiting the garage, I see Jai and Penny strolling across the lawn, and instinct propels me to dive behind one of the perfectly trimmed hedges, Boyd following after me.
“Are we hiding from anyone in particular, sir?” Boyd’s features are set in their usual stoic expression, but I have a sneaking suspicion he would love nothing more than to smirk at me right now.
“We’re not hiding, Boyd. I’m simply admiring the foliage,” I say, rather unconvincingly. “Do you know what kind of plant this is?”
“You’d have to ask the gardener, Your Majesty.”
I nod. “I’ll do that.”
After a few moments of silence, Boyd asks, “So, are we done admiring the foliage, sir?”
I look through the gap in the hedge to see Jai and Penny have disappeared inside the palace. “Yes, I’m done.”
“Very good, sir.”
We get to our feet and I glance down at the bottom of my trousers and the hem of my coat, annoyed to see clumps of mud staining the fabric. Well, that’s what you get for diving into the bushes on a wet October day, idiot!
Boyd, of course, is pristine as ever, having merely crouched down next to me rather than diving for cover as though a bomb was about to explode. Idiot.
Later that afternoon, Veronika stops by my office and I’m beyond relieved to get a break from the tedious minutes and notes I’m attempting to pore through, even if the reason for her visit seems rather ridiculous to me.
“I wanted to talk to you about Halloween.”
“Halloween?”
She nods. “Yes, it seems the children are very excited to go trick-or-treating.”
I stare at her for a moment. “What on earth is that?”
“It’s where children dress up in costumes and go around knocking on people’s doors. The people who answer will give the children a treat of some kind—candy usually. And apparently if the person doesn’t provide them with a treat the children will pull some kind of prank.”
