Kian: Prince of Sorenia (Dirty Princes)

by Imani King

  “Good,” she says, taking her hands from mine. “You can sleep on the floor too. I get the bed.”

  “Sure.” I’ll agree to anything at this point.

  Anything that keeps me close to her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Waking up is hard. I don’t want to open my eyes. My mind is still foggy with the vestiges of some dream I don’t entirely remember. My core is already tight with longing. Lying in bed, I realize I could do something about it.

  Kian is sleeping on the floor. It’d be almost nothing to invite him to bed. It’s wrong, somehow dirty, forbidden and taboo which makes me want him even more.

  My heart thumps wildly in my chest as I slide my fingers between my legs, rolling them in circles over my clit. Biting my lip, I suppress a cry.

  Kian crawls into the bed, uninvited, coming to take what he wants, and God help me, I want to give it to him. His hard body coming closer only makes me hotter. His eyes burn with the stoked fires of his passion. His cock is already hard when I look down.

  I’m growing wet as I circle faster. Tension builds in my center.

  “You want me,” he growls, kissing my neck and finding that spot that drives me wild.

  “Yes,” I respond breathlessly.

  His hand dives between my legs and strokes across my sex. His fingers find my clit and run circles around it. My hips rise to meet him as I open myself to his attentions. His teeth drag along the skin of my shoulder and a free hand grasps my breast. His fingers move faster, and my heart pounds in time.

  His hand travels down along my thighs, slicking a finger along my wet seam then he pushes it inside me. I cry out my pleasure. His fingers probe inside then curl and find that spot. My hips circle and buck, he kisses me impatiently, demanding more.

  I slide a finger then two into my sex. My free hand grasps my breasts, pinching my nipple.

  I’m squirming in the bed imagining him. It’s wrong. He’s right there, he might see, but it feels so good I don’t care. That he might be watching me do this only makes it hotter.

  His cock presses hard against me, hot and begging for attention. I grab it in one hand and stroke up and down. He moans into my ear driving me wild. His fingers don’t stop, pushing in and out of me even faster. He rolls my nipples between his fingers then pinches one gently.

  My hips buck up, and the orgasm takes me by surprise.

  My toes curl, my back arches. I suppress a cry, so I don’t wake Kian or Eva in the next room over. My body is wrenched by the orgasm holding me in its throes then slowly relaxing. As it passes leaving me weak in the knees. I lie in bed, softly panting as I catch my breath.

  When strength returns to my knees again, at last, I slip out of bed. Kian is lying on his side facing the wall and still asleep. Despite the relief I just gave myself as soon as I see him the tension is back. Why have my imagination when they real thing is right there?

  Don’t be an idiot. You can’t!

  I go to the bathroom before any further doubts can form in my mind. After splashing cold water on my face, I decide to lie down for a bit longer. As soon as I walk out the door Kian is staring at me, and I stop, my heart leaping into my throat. Does he know? He smiles, a slow grin that spreads across his face. His eyes smolder with desire.

  “Morning, beautiful,” he says, stretching then holding himself up on his elbow.

  Those eyes. I fall into them, and desire becomes overwhelming, shutting down all the reasons I shouldn’t be with him. I smile, walk to the bed, then look back down at him. I motion with two fingers for him to come. He moves like a bolt of lightning. Flying across the room. I don’t think he touched the floor once.

  He lands on the bed, and it squeaks loudly. I hold a finger over my lips and shush him. He grins and nods climbing across the bed towards me. His eyes burn just like they did in my imagination. His hard length is apparent, pushing against the fabric of his boxer briefs. He runs his fingers through my hair, and my skin burns, wanting his touch. Goosebumps race across my limbs as he pulls me close and we kiss.

  He claims my lips with a passion that no one but him ever has. The taste of him makes my heart soar. I could have these lips every day. He kisses me slowly, not rushing, taking his time, finding my tongue and slowly probing. His kiss is fueled by desire, and it shows.

  One hand cups the back of my head and his other drifts along my thigh. My skin tingles, carrying me away to new heights of pleasure. I dig my fingers into the muscles of his arms, hooking them in his triceps. I’m pressed back onto the bed, buried in the pillow and comforter. He hovers over me, still kissing, his hands roaming up and down my legs passing over the thin fabric of my panties.

  His fingers drift along the elastic band to my center and then he slides his hand under them. He finds my clit and runs circles around it warming me up, having no idea how ready I am. My desire is already a raging, burning need. His lips on mine, his fingers on my clit, his other hand gently tugging at my hair I buck under him, loving his attention. Biting my lip, I suppress my cries again. The walls of our apartment are thin.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispers, breaking the kiss. “I’ve been dreaming of this.”

  A shudder rips up my spine hearing his words. He’s dreamed of me? He kisses me hungrily now as his finger circle faster building the tension in my core until I don’t think I can stand anymore. He lowers his head to my breasts and takes a nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirls around until it’s pulsing with the intensity of pleasure. I dig my fingers into his hair twining them and pulling.

  He slides two fingers inside, filling me and I gasp in pleasure and surprise. I moan at the sensation of his fingers stroking me, his fingertips pressing against that spot in me that makes my toes curl. He kisses back up my chest to my lips. I’ve never felt so good as being with him. There’s something different about his attentions, about us.

  Breaking the kiss, he smiles and we are both gasping for air. He rises up onto his knees in front of me, and I look at the hard planes of his body, the outline of his shaft. He discards his boxers, and I shudder. I can’t help but want him more. I don’t think I can wait another moment. He trails his fingers along my arms staring at me with his stunning eyes. He makes me feel beautiful. I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong, yet it’s so so right.

  He grabs my hips and lifts then twists. I move with him turning over to my stomach. His hands are on my ass. My skin burns where he touches as he runs them up over my butt and along my back. He massages my lower back, shifting so his knees are on either side of my legs. His cock presses against my ass as he leans in to knead harder. I groan my pleasure as he works. He massages then trails his fingers up along my sides, teasing the sides of my breasts then back down across my ass.

  I wriggle, his fingers dangerously close to tickling, but he keeps the pressure just enough to avoid that. His cock pressing against me stokes the flames of desire, so I press up into him. He grabs my hips and lifts me up onto my knees moving himself back. He holds himself at my entrance, enticing me, tantalizing me. I press back into him, but he stops me.

  “Kian,” I whisper.

  “I want you,” he says. “I want you every day for the rest of my life.”

  My heart beats wildly. He doesn’t mean it. This is nothing. It’s just sex, it has to be. But… no sex has ever felt so good. He pushes into me slowly, an inch at a time, expanding my delicate walls and filling me.

  I want him so badly. I want him to want me. I want him to be the one I know he can never be. Can he? He finishes his forward motion hitting me to his hilt, and we’re one. It feels too good, pushing thoughts away. He is the one. How could anyone else ever feel this good?

  He pulls back then thrusts into me, and I moan, dropping to my elbows and keeping my ass positioned against him. He drives into me over and over again, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the spaces between his grunts of pleasure. He reaches for my breasts, cupping and kneading them as he continues to pound me from behind.

  I push ba
ck into him with each thrust taking him deeper. The sensations are all there. It’s carrying me away. No more concerns, no more worries… there’s just the two of us. He lifts me up, and then, wrapped in each other's arms, we throw ourselves off the cliff into an earth shattering orgasm that takes my body by storm. It rages through me leaving no trace of thought or awareness of anything but pleasure.

  The pleasure is white-hot and blinding, so overwhelming that when it's over, I fall flat on my stomach, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. Minutes pass slowly before my heart rate returns to something less than near-heart-attack intensity. Kian lays on top of me breathing heavily into my ear as he catches his own breath. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest against my back. Catching his breath, he rolls off of me and lies down. I snuggle up against him and stare at the wall and wonder what the hell has gotten into me. I can’t be doing this.

  But why… I finally ask myself. What harm is there? Maybe if it’s only this once…

  After all, we are married.

  “We could do this every day, for a year,” he whispers in my ear. “At least.”

  My body stiffens. He can’t be serious; he can’t be interested in staying with me. Not like that. Me alone? He feels so good, his arms wrapped around me, snuggling close. I could do this. I could have this every day. It would be amazing, but something inside me screams how dangerous this is. He’s playing me. Still, I’m sure of it.

  Extricating myself from his arms, I climb out of bed and gather up my clothes. As I dress, he watches me. I feel a strange mix of embarrassment and comfort as he looks at me, his eyes roaming over my body. His eyes follow me still burning with desire.

  “I’ll stay here in Scotland,” he says, and I stop, pulling my pants on.

  “Are you serious?”

  “If you agree to one thing.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Spend the summer with me at home, in Sorenia,” he says.

  It’s a fair offer. It means I can stay here and finish my degree. I can take the summer off easily enough before starting on my Master’s. I don’t even know where Sorenia is, though. I have a vague idea, but I doubt I could point to it on a map. My nerves are a wreck. Choices are limited. Why did I agree to that stupid dance contest? How did I end up like this with him, a stunningly incredible sexy bad boy lying naked in my bed?

  “Okay,” I say at last.

  It’s the best option I’ve got at the moment, and somehow, it feels right, no matter how wrong it may be.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Okay, I’ll be a couple of hours,” Abby says, standing by the door.

  “I’ll take you out to dinner when you get home.” I smile at her. Her honey brown skin and dark eyes are all I’ve been craving since I got here. I know it then—I’m never going to let her go.

  “Don’t make big plans,” she says. “My professor is notorious for going late so it might take longer.”

  “All right, nothing fancy then,” I smile.

  She walks out the door, and I watch it shut behind her.

  “What in the hell are you doing?” Eva asks almost as soon as the door closes.

  Turning around she’s standing a few feet away with her arms crossed on her chest glaring at me.

  “What?” I ask, looking around to see if I made a mess or something.

  “You know damn well what I mean,” her eyes dart from me to the door.

  Damn you Aidan. Damn your ‘honor’ too; you’re going to screw this up for me, and you’re not even here. How to play this?

  “How’s Aidan?” I ask.

  “Don’t try to change the subject,” she comes back.

  “What? He’s not calling? Thought you two really hit it off.”

  Her anger is palpable, but I can see I’m getting under her skin.

  “I know who you are,” she says accusatorially. I shrug and walk past her. “Don’t you walk away from me!”

  “What am I supposed to say?” I ask.

  “The truth! What are you doing here? What’s your game? What are you doing with Abby?”

  I walk into the kitchen and get a beer out of the fridge.

  “Want one?” I ask over the door.

  “No, dammit, I want answers.” Eva stands in the doorway of the kitchen with her arms crossed. I can feel her glaring at me. I admire her. She’s steadfast and cares about Abby. She’s also capable of screwing up any chance I have. Abby can’t know the truth yet.

  “What do you want to know?” I ask, twisting the cap off my beer and leaning against the counter.

  “I already told you,” she says in exasperation.

  “That was pretty broad,” I sip my beer.

  Her face flushes bright. “I know who you are but more than that, I know how you are. I know what you’ve done. I know what your family thinks of it too.”

  “Guess Aidan gave you the whole story then huh?” I ask.

  “He did,” she confirms. “All of it. What are you doing with Abby.”

  “Man, you two must have really hit it off. Did he break out the baby pictures? Why are you here and not with him?” I wink at her, but I can still feel her anger.

  “Quit trying to change the subject,” she barks.

  “Yes ma’am,” I say, tipping my beer in her direction.

  “That’s it, I’m telling her myself,” she says turning away.

  Fear boils up, tensing my stomach into a hard knot.

  “No!” I cry out, pushing off the counter and stepping after her.

  “So you do care,” she says over her shoulder.

  My shoulders slump. I know I’m stuck. Either I get Eva on my side, or she screws up everything.

  “Yes, I do. Very much,” I say.

  “Well, what is all this crap about having to live together? That’s bullshit, and you know it,” she says. I shrug. I don’t have an answer for it. “Why haven’t you told her?”

  “She’s not ready for it yet. The living together part is not bullshit, either. My lawyer told me that they grant divorces much easier that way,” I say. “But you’re right. I need to tell her. I just don’t want to scar her away.”

  She shakes her head then walks to the fridge and gets a beer for herself.

  “Come sit down,” she orders leading the way into the living room.

  I follow her hating every moment knowing that what I want is now endangered by her.

  “Look, I just need some time,” I say.

  “No, you look. Aidan told me most of it, but I’m not stupid. I’ve done my research on you once you showed up here. I know your reputation. The way you treat women, the way you live, and I have to say, none of that makes sense as to why you’re here. I don’t trust you.”

  “I get that,” I say.

  I pick a corner of the label on my beer with my thumb. Each swipe tears it a little looser. Focusing on that keeps everything else at bay.

  “Do you? What the hell are you doing? Why her? What’s the game?”

  “I don’t know,” I give her an honest answer. “I… like her. I more than like her.”

  Scratch, pick, scratch an entire section of the label is loose now.

  “You like her?” she snorts. “Right. This is a game. Are you using her to piss of your parents? I know about Aidan’s marriage. I also know they want to arrange one for you as well. They want you to marry royalty. You can’t marry her; she’s from Kansas for god’s sake!”

  “Is Kansas nice?” I ask.

  “How the hell should I know? I’m from Texas. We both come from small towns. We’re African American, both from middle class families. And both of us got lucky to get here. We’re from the middle of nowhere, both of us. And we’ve got a lot more to focus on than two men who’ve never had to work for anything in their lives.”

  “Hey,” I say, surprised by her response. “I thought Americans we’re all America the Beautiful and for solidarity. And it’s not like we haven’t faced hardship—”

  “You’re changing the subject again,�
� she accuses. “And it is like you haven’t faced hardship.”

  “Am I changing the subject? Just curious,” I look up from the bottle and grin my best disarming smile.

  “You can’t marry her,” she says.

  “I already have,” I respond, leaning back into the recliner.

  “And your parents have no idea,” she says. “Aidan says you’re here to get a divorce. He doesn’t know what your game is either.”

  “You’re still talking to him?” I ask, looking at her directly for the first time.

  “Yes, but that’s not the point,” she says. “You can’t marry outside of royalty any more than he can.”

  “Want to bet?” I grin. “He’s far more tied down than I am. I’m the younger brother. The fuck-up. There’s no law that says anything about who I marry. It’s just a strong suggestion in my case.”

  “Strong suggestion or no, you have to get this divorce and end this charade. You’re playing with her emotions, and I won’t stand by and let it happen.”

  “Why not? Why can’t I? Why can’t I be with her?”

  “You’re royalty! You have to do your duty, for once in your life at least,” she says. It seems like she’s bought into all the shit Aidan’s told her.

  “Whatever,” I wave a dismissive hand. “I never asked for any of this. This royalty stuff. The cold parents, the big, cold palace—”

  “Oh poor you. Love the whiny, spoiled rich kid act by the way. It suits you.” She drums her fingers against her arm.

  I glare at her, but she doesn’t wither. It makes me smile. I like her. She has fire in her, and I can see why Aidan likes her. He needs a woman like that—someone to keep him in line and prevent him from being a total dick. I could see her calling him on his shit on a regular basis.

  “You know he likes you right?” I ask. “Like a lot?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Aidan, he likes you,” I tell her. “He doesn’t get with women like I do. I mean, there have been women, sure. But he looks at you… differently.”

  “Whatever. And all that is completely beside the point.”