Kian: Prince of Sorenia (Dirty Princes)

by Imani King

  “Oh,” she says, her eyes growing wide. “You’re not interested?”

  I shake my head, “Yeah. Something like that.”

  “Turns out we can’t play tonight,” Aidan says as I stand up.

  He’s nicer than I am, as usual. Aidan always takes things more seriously than I do. He’s the heir, so the expectations on him are higher. I’m only the ‘just in case,’ so no one expects the same standards out of me. Besides, no one here knows who we are. If we were home, then sure, but here, no one knows nor gives a damn. Except for our bodyguards, but screw those guys, they can stand by the walls and stay out of sight. It’s not my job to make their lives easy.

  Making my way towards the stairs down to the floor, I hear the girls whining which I hate. It sounds like someone dragging nails across a chalkboard. Makes my nerves tense up. Aidan extricates himself by the time I reach the stairs and joins me as we push through the crowd. People are jumping up and down or grinding on each other even here on the stairs. We thread our way through the press of bodies. I’m keeping an eye on my prize.

  Two other guys have inserted themselves into the girls’ dance. It’s fine because they don’t look as good as me. Their dancing is jerky, and they don’t have confidence. I see it in their eyes and in the way they move. Aidan and I glance at each other and share the same evaluation. We walk up, and I cut in front of the guy trying to dance with my girl.

  “Hey,” he yells, just loud enough to be heard over the pounding beats.

  I ignore him and move in time with her. She looks up, and our eyes lock. It’s the same as at the hotel. My guts tighten into a hard ball, almost like I’m nervous. But screw that—I’m never nervous. Something runs down my spine like an electric shock. I can’t look away from her, and she doesn’t look away from me. She keeps on dancing, and in a few minutes, I feel the guy behind me leave. Aidan is dancing with her friend. We’ve taken over without saying a word.

  The song lasts a while. Maybe it’s two or three songs, I don’t know and don’t care. The way she moves fascinates me—it’s fluid yet conservative. Nerdy and awkward somehow, yet graceful. Like she has the talent to dance but doesn’t use it often. Every time I get close enough to touch her, she moves just enough that we’re not. She never moves too far away, never pushes, she doesn’t stop me, but she won’t let me in. Why in the hell this makes me want her more than before, I don’t know, but it’s driving me insane. At last the song ends. We’re hot and sweaty, and I need something cold.

  “How about a drink?” I ask.

  “Sure,” she pants. Her wild black curls fall over her face, framing her exquisitely high cheekbones and full, pouty lips.

  I reach for her hand. She looks at my hand then up at me, frowning. She doesn’t take it, so I shrug and walk off the floor leading the way. Either she follows or not. It’s not like I’ll go home alone either way.

  When I reach the stairs, she’s still beside me. Good. Better than I’d expected.

  What the hell is going on with me? I step to one side and motion for her to go up. She moves forward, and the bouncer takes down the red velvet rope to let us up to the VIP area. Her perfect ass sways with each step. That electric pulse strikes me again, sending a wave of sensual energy through my body.

  At the top of the stairs, I put an arm around her shoulders. She tenses but doesn’t move away. Progress. I guide her to the booth reserved for Aidan and I. A buxom waitress appears almost as soon as we’re seated. I order a bottle of champagne, not bothering to ask her what she wants and she doesn’t object.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  She smiles then shakes her head and points to her ears. The music is too loud for easy conversation, so I reach up behind us and pull a heavy curtain closed, blocking our balcony seats off from the dance floor. It doesn’t kill the music but drops the level down to allow us to talk.

  “Abigail,” she answers after I repeat my question. “But everyone calls me Abby.”

  “I’m Kian. Abby is a nice name. Very… American.”

  She chuckles and holds out her hand, “Nice to meet you.”

  With any other girl, I’d grab that hand and pull her onto my lap. Instead, I take hers in mine then raise it to my lips and kiss it. She looks down, clearly embarrassed.

  “Are you a virgin?” It blurts out as soon as the idea pops into my head.

  She clears he throat and tries to take her hand away.

  “What? Oh, god, uh, no!” she stammers, quickly avoiding eye contact.

  She may not be, but she’s not like the girls I normally find. She’s sophisticated, refined. Not like the other tourists who come to Gibraltar. Not the ones from America, anyway.

  “Okay.”

  “I’ve got a boyfriend,” she says, still not meeting my eyes. “Or I did. Until today.”

  “Okay. He sounds like a fool to leave you behind. That’s just my opinion. I’m only one man.”

  She looks at me directly for the first time since this started. “Oh yeah? And why’s that, Kian?”

  “A real man wouldn’t hurt someone like you.”

  “What do you mean by that?” She raises an eyebrow, and I lean forward. She looks like she might laugh or run away back to her friend on the dance floor.

  “Someone beautiful. You also look kind. And intelligent.”

  Shit. These aren’t my usual lines. What is wrong with me?

  I recover from my own shock at myself and sip my champagne, keeping my eyes locked on hers. She shifts her hips, a subtle move. I can see I’ve struck a chord, even though I’m not working my full game. Something about her unsettles me, makes me less confident than usual.

  But I know enough to know that she’s mine if I want her. And I do, damn me to hell, I do. A foul taste rises in my mouth though. Regret? I haven’t done anything to regret, yet.

  “You have no idea what kind of person I am,” she says. “There’s no way you can possibly tell all of that just by looking at me. I mean—it’s very nice to say those things. But you don’t really know me at all.”

  “I’d like to. I know you’re not like the other girls I meet around here. You’re one worth getting to know.”

  She looks away quickly, eyes shining. Tears?

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” she says.

  “If you say so,” I say. “Why are you here?”

  She’s trying to look past the privacy curtain down to the dance floor, but she looks back to me when I ask the question. A wrinkle forms between her eyebrows as she thinks. It’s cute and kind of sexy in a nerdy way. What the hell is this girl doing to me? Focusing on her great tits and the curve of her hips I push the other thoughts away. I can see the vague hint of a lacy bra beneath her shirt, and it makes me wonder what her breasts look like in person.

  “Enjoying the nightlife,” she says. “Speaking of which, I should probably get back to my friend.” She stands, but I catch her arm.

  “She’s fine. Your friend. I can guarantee it.”

  “Oh really?” She gives me another quizzical look, with her eyebrow arched hight.

  “She’s with my brother, Aidan.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Sure, didn’t you notice the family resemblance? Though everyone says I’m the better looking one,” I smile.

  “I didn’t realize she was with your brother. I also didn’t realize you were the better looking one.” To my relief, she sits back down.

  “She is. And he’s more of a gentleman than I am.” I take her hand and kiss it again. This time she doesn’t pull away. Her eyes are focused on mine, pupils dilated. I know what she’s thinking about, and I’m damn glad she is.

  “Oh really? And you’re not a gentleman?”

  “I was raised to be polite. And I do respect women. Oh yes, I very much do.” I kiss her hand again and then run my fingers over the bare flesh of her arm. “But when I take you back to my suite, I can promise I won’t be a gentleman at all.

  She gulps, but to her credit, she doesn’t br
eak my gaze. “And how do you know that I’ll agree to something like that? I thought you wanted to get to know me.”

  “I think a night alone with me might be the introduction you deserve. Especially after that wanker back home did whatever he did to you. A sane man wouldn’t let you go, like I said.”

  Shut up Kian. You’re getting a little too sappy.

  “You did say that. Or something of the sort. But I feel like it’s just a line, coming from a man who looks like you.”

  “And what do I look like?”

  “A man who gets whatever he wants. Especially when it comes to women.”

  “That might be true,” I say. “But it’s well-deserved. Because with any woman I take home, I make sure she comes first. I mean that both literally and figuratively.”

  She laughs, and the sound makes the thumping music around us slow down. It’s musical, that laugh.

  She takes a drink of the champagne then scoots to one side of the couch where she can see past the curtain.

  “Something interesting?” I ask.

  “Eva,” she replies.

  “Your friend?”

  “Yes, looks like her and your brother aren’t getting along. They’re arguing about something.”

  “His loss, not ours.”

  She looks back, and I sit up straight then scoot closer to her. Touching her leg, I trail my fingers up her thigh to her hips. A light touch, just enough to entice and not scare her away.

  “Where are you from Abby?”

  “Glasgow,” she says.

  “You don’t sound Scottish, more American.”

  “Well I’m from Kansas, but I’m at university in Glasgow. Graduate school.”

  “Studying what?” I ask, getting closer.

  I trail my fingers up her arm and across her shoulders. As I get closer I move them across her back then down her opposite arm.

  “Literary history,” she replies, not moving away.

  She leans her head to the side, not much but enough to make an invitation that I don’t ignore. I kiss my way up her neck towards her ear, nibbling and nuzzling as I go. She shudders but leans her head further aside.

  “Literary history,” I whisper in her ear. “Sounds like a brainy subject.”

  “It can be,” she says. “I’m a brainy girl.”

  “Looks like it.” She scowls at me and then she laughs. “I mean that in a good way. Like you look… like you’re an interesting person.” I brush my fingers over her cheek.

  She shivers and pulls back. I lean in closer, finding her more enticing.

  “Most don’t get it,” she says. “Or why I would study such a thing. I’ve always wanted to teach. And write. I hope to become a professor.”

  “I think you’d be good at it. That’s a completely unprofessional opinion, but it does seem like you’re easy to talk to. I think that’s part of being a good teacher.”

  She smiles, and I secretly congratulate myself on saying the right thing.

  “I should go get Eva and go back to our hotel room.” She cranes her neck behind the curtain again and looks to where her friend is. “But now… it looks like she’s dancing with your brother. She’s a confusing one… And she’s giving me a thumbs up? What on earth…” Her voice trails off.

  “Come to my place. Don’t go back to your room. It’s in the same hotel, after all.”

  She stiffens. “I don’t know.”

  Running my hand up and down her thigh, I breathe softly into her ear. My other hand I run up and down her arm stroking in a mesmerizing rhythm. Teasing and enticing her towards coming with me. I want her. Some small twinge thinks this is bad. There’s something more to her than all those other girls. She’s different but right now I want her alone. If that’s to take her to bed or to get to know her better, I can’t tell yet. Once we get somewhere quiet, I’ll figure it out.

  “Just the two of us,” I whisper. “No strings, no commitments, two adults having some fun.”

  She stiffens then relaxes against me. She leans her head to one side giving me full access to her neck and her arm comes up to hook around my head. She’s mine. Holding her hand, I stand and lead the way down the stairs. On the dance floor, I spot Aidan with her friend just in time to see her yell at him—and then she goes in to kiss him, lightly, on the lips. Suppressing my laughter, I pull Abby towards the door, not wanting her distracted by whatever the hell is going on with those two.

  Fresh air. The club is packed with hot, sweaty bodies. You don’t notice it until you’re outside in the fresh air breathing easy. Abby steps close so I put my arm around her waist and lead her across the open square towards the hotel.

  “So what do you do?” she asks.

  “Chase girls, drink a lot, and generally keep myself busy,” I say, dodging the heart of the question.

  “Sounds shallow.”

  “Unbelievably so.”

  She falls silent which I don’t mind. It’s so much better than the incessant, mindless blather of the girls I normally head home with. She’s thoughtful and measured, which sets her far above my norm. The square is packed with the nighttime crowd. A mix of tourists and locals to take advantage of them. My bodyguards are doing a particularly good job of not being noticeable. I should make sure this team gets a bonus—I want to keep them.

  “So where are you from?” she asks.

  “Does it matter?” Telling her I’m from Sorenia might give her too much of a clue. It’s not a large country by any means.

  “Sure, why wouldn’t you want me to know? No strings doesn’t mean no conversation. If it does in your book, then I’m not interested.”

  “Have you done this before?” I ask, going offensive to avoid answering her question.

  Where I’m from is not up for discussion. I don’t want any more people than absolutely have to know have that information. Aidan and I came here to get away from home, not be recognized as royalty and have to deal with all the trappings that come with it.

  “What?” she asks, stiffening.

  “This, a one-nighter, a fast roll in the hay.”

  “Of course I have,” she says, turning a bright red.

  “Liar!” I exclaim, laughing.

  “I am not,” she stutters. I stare at her waiting and she wilts. “Okay, no.”

  “You have…” I leave it hanging between us.

  She denied being a virgin but maybe she is? If she is, do I want to do this? I’m not the right guy for a virgin. Well at least not her. She deserves something more special than me for her first time.

  “God, no!” she exclaims, looking away and turning new shades of pink in embarrassment.

  “So you have, you know, had sex?”

  “Yes, plenty of times.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” I reply.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Someone whose had lots of sex never says ‘plenty of times.'”

  She shakes her head. “Look, I’ve only… been with one man.”

  This does explain a few things. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes,” she says. “Is that an issue?”

  “Not for me, just sets the bar pretty low,” I grin.

  “You’re impossible,” she says, laughing as we walk into the hotel.

  On the elevator I dig out my passkey and unlock the penthouse. She doesn’t act surprised, taking it in stride which is nice. The elevator opens onto my suite of rooms. It’s elegant and beautiful, but I ignore all of it. None of this compares to her. As we step off the elevator, I turn, taking her into my arms and begin kissing her hard.

  CHAPTER THREE

  His kiss is intense, searching, hungry—unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced.

  I’m carried away on waves of pleasure and sensation losing myself in the touch of his lips. His hands wander freely across my body. He’s hard, muscles everywhere, there’s an easy strength to go with his stunning good looks. Roger never kissed me like this.

  Desire pulses from the hard, tight knot in my core, throbb
ing through my body. Some small part of my brain is screaming that this is stupid, I’m not this kind of girl, but it’s small and easy to push aside. I want this. I need this. The small voice tries to become louder, but the memory of that text replete with the image of Roger cheating on me washes it away. I’m done with him.

  Kian’s tongue dances past my lips, darting in and out, my tongue rises to meet his. They duel, entwining and wrestling in a sensual game of domination. Thrusting in I want more, need more, and he meets my need and desire. I can feel him, hard against my body. Involuntarily I grind my hips against him, wanting more. He breaks the kiss and steps back but keeps his arm around my shoulders. He leads us into the luxurious suite. The far wall is floor to ceiling windows looking out across Gibraltar and onto the ocean. A living room area is set down two steps with couches and chairs surrounding a fireplace on the wall that is surrounded by polished marble. The floor is black and white checkerboard tile. Everything is white with wood and gold accents.

  Mine and Eva’s room is nice, but this is over the top. Luxury taken to the next level. Every inch is touched by elegance. Designed and planned to perfection. I have no idea how much this suite costs a night, but I know for certain it’s out of my price range. There’s a wet bar along one wall, and Kian takes us there. He gets out two glasses, sets them down, drops two ice cubes in each. His hand drifts along the selection of bottles then he stops.

  “What do you like?” he asks.

  “Whiskey, single malt.”

  “Ah, whiskey—surprising,” he says, selecting a bottle and pouring two fingers into one of the tumblers then the other.

  “Why is that surprising?”

  “I had you pegged for a spritzer.”

  “I’m from Scotland,” I admonish.

  “Not really,” he grins.

  “True, but I’ve been there a long time.”

  He laughs then hands me a tumbler and takes the other for himself.

  “Cheers,” I say, holding my glass up between us.