Big Bad Royal: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Tia Siren

  “Is there more coffee?” he asked, wiggling the cup at me.

  If it was anyone else asking, I would have said no and told them to leave because I had to close. But the way the stranger was looking at me sent a little chill down my spine. I didn’t feel threatened. I knew what that felt like. No, it was more of a feeling of wonderment, of expectation, of uncertainty. I had never expected this handsome man to walk into my bar on the night of the first blizzard of the season. My brain was telling me to make him leave, but other parts of me, those parts not used as often or as recently as my brain, were begging for him to stay.

  “There’s a little more, but it’s kind of burnt,” I said, picking up the pot from the warmer and swishing around what was left of the coffee. I filled his cup and set the pot on the bar.

  “I’m Nick, by the way,” he said, extending his hand. I put my hand in his and his long fingers wrapped around mine.

  “Rebecca,” I said with a smile. My hand lingered in his. Even though the bar was chilly, I felt a heat go through me as if a furnace had kicked on. My pilot light had been lit. The pipes were beginning to thaw. I pulled back my hand and bit my bottom lip.

  He picked up the cup and glanced at the window. “I’m afraid I won’t get far in this storm,” he said. “Is there a motel nearby or a cabin I can rent for the night?”

  “No, I’m afraid not,” I said. “This is a pretty desolate stretch of road.”

  “Well then,” he said, taking a sip of the coffee and making a funny face at me. “I’d best be on my way.”

  My lips wanted to tell him he could spend the night with me upstairs, but my brain kept getting in the way. Remember Charlie Feenie, it said. You threw yourself at him and it almost cost you your life. I took a deep breath as he slid off the stool. My mouth was ignoring my brain.

  Say something, you idiot… Say anything… Invite him upstairs…

  I said, “Just head back down the mountain and you should be fine.”

  Shit. That was not what I wanted to say.

  “What do I owe you?” he asked as he plucked his jacket off the peg and shoved his arms into it.

  “The coffee is on the house,” I said, following him to the door. I laughed like a schoolgirl. “Most folks say I should pay them to drink it.”

  He gave me the smile that made my knees shake again. This time, I knew for sure I wasn’t shaking from the cold. It was the stranger—Nick—that was doing this to me. With just a look he had my knees shaking and my panties damp.

  “Thanks again, Rebecca,” he said. “Have a good night.”

  “You, too,” I muttered, opening the door. “Be safe out there.”

  He waited until I opened the door and then ducked his head and went out into the barrage of wind. The snow attacked him like a swarm of bees. I pushed the door nearly closed and watched him get into his car. He looked back and gave me a wave.

  I closed the door and sighed.

  It would be another night alone.

  Just me and my shower massage.

  CHAPTER SEVEN: Nick

  The storm literally battered my body as I trudged out of the bar and tried to open the car door. It was nearly frozen shut. I wedged my fingers around the frame and gave it a good jerk while lifting up on the handle. The door opened with a crack and I climbed in behind the wheel. It was like climbing inside a refrigerator. I glanced back to see Rebecca looking at me through a crack in the door. I gave her a little wave and she closed the door.

  I stuck the key in the ignition and turned it long enough to let the engine turn over but not start. I didn’t see her at the door anymore, but I had to make a good show of it. I pretended to try to start the car again. By now I was fucking freezing my royal balls off. It was time to put my plan into action.

  My suitcase was in the seat next to me. I took the handle in my right hand and pushed open the door with my left shoulder. A few minutes more and the door would have been frozen shut. I climbed out of the car, slammed the door, and stomped through the knee-high snow to the front door.

  I pushed on the door, but it was locked. I realized that the lights inside the bar had gone off. A twinge of panic crept through me. The wind bit at my ears like icy teeth. The snow was blinding. The wind swept it into my eyes. I could feel ice forming on my eyebrows and beneath my runny nose.

  I pounded on the door and yelled her name. After a minute, a light came on inside the bar and Rebecca appeared on the other side of the door. She unbolted the lock and opened the door. I practically fell inside.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, looking at me like I was a crazy man. I was freezing my balls off, but I wasn’t so frozen that I didn’t notice that she had taken off the red flannel shirt and was wearing the white T-shirt with no bra underneath. The cold air made her nipples stand at attention, which pumped warm blood into the parts of me I thought I’d surely lost to frostbite.

  “My car,” I said, struggling to catch my breath. “It won’t start. I’m afraid I can’t leave.”

  When I glanced into her eyes, I wasn’t sure if it was fear or excitement staring back at me. Not that it mattered. I was not going anywhere. This was my version of kidnapping the damsel and making her my own. The weather was my accomplice. My cock began to warm from the inside out in anticipation of taking her from behind.

  “You’ll have to spend the night here,” she said with a look of compassion on her pretty face. “I have an apartment upstairs. There’s a couch. And heat.”

  “Is there a hot shower?” I asked. I rubbed my hands together and pretended to be colder than I was. I didn’t have to put on much of a show. My cock aside, the rest of me felt like I was submerged in a bucket of ice.

  Perhaps the idiot in the travel office would get a bonus rather than getting fired.

  She gave me a pensive look. “A hot shower?”

  I gave her an embarrassed smile. “I come from a place with weather much like this. My mother says nothing wards off the chill of a cold night like a hot shower.” I held up my hands. “I understand if it’s too much to ask. It was a silly question.”

  “No, it’s not silly at all,” she said, warming my face with her eyes. “In fact, my dad used to say the same thing. You can take a hot shower. I’ll heat up some soup I have in the fridge.”

  “That’s really not necessary,” I said. The little voice inside my head began whispering in my ear. Not surprisingly, the little voice was my father’s: Fuck soup, boy! Get this woman to a bed at once and claim your rights! My stomach growled in response. It wouldn’t take long to eat one little bowl of soup…

  She let her green eyes go around my face for a moment and then gave me a nod and gestured for me to follow.

  We went through the door leading into the kitchen. There was a narrow staircase leading to the second floor.

  “This way,” she said. “We’ll have you thawed out in no time.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT: Rebecca

  I had just enough time to get upstairs and take off my flannel shirt and bra, and then I heard someone calling my name. It took a moment for me to realize that it was coming from outside. I went to the apartment window and peered out. Nick’s car was still in the lot, covered in half a foot of snow.

  I forgot about putting my shirt back on as I rushed down the stairs. I found poor Nick freezing at the front door. His car wouldn’t start. He’d have to stay the night.

  Oh no… Insert smiley face…

  Nick followed me up to the tiny apartment. I showed him where the bathroom was. He wanted to take a hot shower to knock off the chill. My dad used to do the same thing, so I didn’t find anything odd about it.

  “I’ll heat up some soup for you,” I said, handing him a towel. “I have a great hot water heater. Take as long as you like.”

  I heard the water come on in the shower as I walked into the kitchen. I took the Tupperware of soup from the fridge and filled a bowl, and then I stuck the bowl in the microwave for a couple of minutes.

  I glanced down the hall toward
the bathroom door as I waited for the microwave to ding. The shower was on. I could see steam coming from under the door.

  There was a gorgeous man in my shower and I was standing here like an idiot heating up soup. I closed my eyes and let my imagination run wild.

  He was in my shower, naked.

  Wet.

  Hot.

  Steamy.

  Long.

  Hard.

  Without even realizing that I was doing it, my left hand was massaging my breast. My nipple pushed through the T-shirt, hard and big as a thimble. I tweaked it between my thumb and finger and felt a bolt of lightning shoot down my stomach and into my cunt.

  The microwave dinged and scared the crap out of me. I opened the door and pulled out the bowl. It was scorching hot. I set the bowl out to cool and went to let Nick know that the soup was ready.

  Now, you must realize two things in order to understand what happened next. First of all, this building was probably fifty years old, and it had settled over time, making the doors and windows all wonky in their frames. So, even though the bathroom door knob was locked, the lock wasn’t engage in the frame, so when I came to tell Nick his soup was ready, the door was open by an inch.

  The second thing you must realize is that when you see a gorgeous man masturbating in your shower, it’s rude not to masturbate yourself. I thought it was the law here in upstate New York. I could have been wrong… I didn’t know…

  Okay, that was all horseshit, but what was I supposed to do when I saw Nick soaping up his cock?

  Close the door and back away?

  I was glad I had chosen a clear plastic shower curtain because it was the easiest to clean. Through the clear plastic I could see him, this tall, muscular, gorgeous man, standing in my shower with his left hand braced against the wall and his right hand firmly around his long cock.

  His head was down. His eyes were closed. His hand was soapy. It slid back and forth from the base of his cock to over the head, which was swollen like a balloon about to burst.

  Before I knew it, my jeans were undone and my left hand had slipped into my panties, which were already soaking wet. I slid my middle finger over my clit and dipped it into my pussy to lube it up. I brought the finger up to rest on my clit hood and began rolling it from side to side. My other hand went under my T-shirt and cupped my breast. I squeezed my breast and rolled my nipple under my thumb.

  I watched Nick through dreamy eyes. His cock was long and bowed upward a little. He pushed his hips out so his hand could slide along the full length of it. I heard him moan. I focused my eyes on his hand sliding along his cock as my finger massaged my clit. I imagined that it was my hand there, milking his long cock, cupping his tight balls, swirling my tongue around the bulbous head.

  I slid two fingers into my pussy and slid them in and out while my thumb worked on my clit. I closed my eyes and imagined Nick’s lips on my pussy, his tongue probing my hole, his hands squeezing my breasts as I showered his lips and face with my hot juices.

  I fell against the doorframe and moaned. I was coming hard. I opened my eyes to see Nick coming with me. His head was back and his eyes were closed.

  His teeth dug into his lower lip as his hand jackhammered his cock faster and faster, until it shot streams of milky white ropes against the shower wall.

  I imagined him shooting his sweet cum onto my tits and into my mouth.

  I bit down hard on my lip and came into my hand, covering it with hot juices that smelled of tangy sex.

  I heard the shower turn off. I took a deep breath and crept back from the door.

  With my left hand still buried in my cunt, I quietly closed the door with my right hand and tiptoed into the bedroom to put on dry clothes.

  CHAPTER NINE: Nick

  Okay, I’d admit it: This could be the easiest kidnapping in Rostov family history. I wasn’t even sure I could call it a kidnapping anymore. I could tell when I opened my eyes and spotted Rebecca masturbating along with me at the door that this was going to be easy. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t have patted myself on the back just yet. Getting her knocked up and to Kosnovia might be the difficult part.

  My grandfather had to sneak into a room where my grandmother’s entire family slept in order to kidnap her. Her mother, father, three sisters, and six brothers didn’t hear a thing. They simply woke up in the morning and she was gone.

  My father supposedly kidnapped my mother from her father’s rebel stronghold in the mountains on the border with Kiev.

  I just got stranded in a snow storm with a beautiful girl.

  Oh well. I’d make up a much more heroic story for my father by the time I returned home.

  I hadn’t set out to jack off in Rebecca’s shower, but the prospect of fucking her had made my cock grow hard. My father said the Rostov men could get erections from a stiff wind. He was right. I removed my suit to find my cock as thick and hard as a lead pipe. When a Rostov cock got stiff, it had to be relieved.

  I caught Rebecca outside the door and realized she was stroking her pussy and breast while watching me stroke my cock.

  I thought about commanding her to get in the shower to suck my royal dick, but I was already too far along. I could already feel the orgasm building in my tight balls. No, I would finish this job myself. Then I’d command her to submit.

  My first time with her would be slow and deliberate. I would take my time kissing her lips, massaging her tits, pressing my tongue to her clit, burying my cock into her pussy.

  She would beg me to fuck her harder and faster, but I would maintain the pace until she was ready to explode.

  Then I would fill her with my royal seed as she screamed my name, and we would let nature take its course. And if nature didn’t take its course the first time, we would try again and again until it did.

  I would give my father his grandson. The Rostov name would live on. It was my duty to make that happen. And as I watched Rebecca coming from the corner of my eye, I knew I was going to enjoy the task.

  * * *

  “How was your shower?” she asked as I emerged from the bathroom with a towel around my neck. I had packed a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt that had the Rostov crest on the front. I’d put them on before coming out of the bathroom.

  I had thought about just walking out of the bathroom naked, but the cold was not kind to a man’s cock and balls. I had been worried about nothing. Even though a storm raged outside, it was toasty in the small apartment, thanks to an ancient-looking wood-burning stove in one corner of the living room.

  “The shower felt amazing,” I said, rubbing the towel against my hair. “Thanks for letting me use it.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a smile that quickly faded. “I mean, you’re welcome.” She gestured to the small kitchen table. “I have you some soup ready. It might be a little hot, so be careful.”

  I sat down in the chair and leaned down to smell the soup. It was a vegetable soup of some kind. If it was anything like her coffee, the taste was going to be horrendous. Fortunately, we had a five-star Michelin chef who ran the kitchen in the royal palace, so Rebecca’s cooking wouldn’t be an issue—unless it killed me before I got her home.

  “So, Nick,” she said, curling up in the chair across the table from me. She had changed into a bathrobe and fuzzy socks. She brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “Tell me about yourself.”

  “What would you like to know?” I asked. I ate a spoonful of the soup and was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t entirely terrible. In fact, it was quite good. It was thick and tomato-y and felt wonderful going down my throat. I took another spoonful and then another.

  “You have an odd accent,” she said. “Where are you from?”

  “I am from a small country near Russia called Kosnovia,” I said proudly. I had noticed before that my Russian accent broke through every time I said the name of my country. I’d worked hard at Oxford to lose the accent, thinking it was old school and not fit for the international stage
where I would spend the rest of my life, but in times like these the accent returned and, according to several ladies who had given in to my charms, made me even sexier, if that was possible.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that,” she said with a frown. “Do you still live there?”

  I licked soup from my lips and gave her a nod. “Actually, I’ve just returned there. I’ve spent the last few years studying international economics at Oxford in England.”

  “Wow,” she said, her eyes wide. “I’ve only been out of Snowcap once and…” I noticed the light in her eyes momentarily go out. “Anyway, so you went to school in Oxford and now you’re back in Kosno…”

  “Kosnovia,” I said with a smile. The little apartment was lit by several lamps that were placed around on tables. The kitchen was illuminated only by a light over the sink and a candle burning on the table between us. She looked beautiful, curled up on the chair with her chin resting on her knees and the light dancing in her eyes.

  “What do you do there?” she asked. “In Kosnovia?”

  I hesitated for a moment. Usually when I told people I was a Russian prince they looked at me as if I were insane. “Sure you are, and I’m the queen of England!” was the standard response.

  I didn’t want Rebecca thinking that I was totally insane, at least not until after we were married, so I lied.

  “I’m going to teach economics at the university,” I said. “That’s why I was headed to the Overlook Lodge, for an economic summit.”

  “How exciting your life must be,” she said with a dreamy sigh.

  “Tell me about your life,” I said.

  The smile faded from her lips as she let her eyes go around the room. “You’re looking at it, I’m afraid.”

  I leaned in and gave her a warm smile. It was taking every ounce of willpower I could muster not to rip off her robe and bend her over the kitchen table. My cock was ready for round two. It moved in my pants, as if it could sense her pussy near. Sometimes I thought the damn thing had a mind of its own. God forbid it should ever wrestle control of my body from my brain. I would not be held responsible for the havoc that might ensue.