My Stepbrother, His Highness: A Royal Stepbrother Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Victoria Cabot

  “I’m not into BDSM or tying you up or rape or any of that stuff,” he said, looking at me.

  If we were talking under different circumstances, I would have gone home with him that day and let him defile me. As it was, I could barely look at him. He could barely look at me – but that was because he was too busy looking around our table to see if anyone was eavesdropping. The thought made me almost laugh out loud – imagining if I had been sitting at a table, listening to snippets of this conversation.

  “What else?” I asked.

  “You have to be an active and willing participant,” Tristan stated. “I’m not into forcing you or cave man stuff, and you don’t have to love it or even act like you do, but don’t make it seem like you absolutely hate it.”

  “You want me to lie to you?” I asked.

  Tristan shrugged. “If that’s what it takes.”

  I nodded. I could do that. “What else?”

  “Ok, you gotta be on the pill, or some other form of birth control. Also, if you’re clean, I’ll trust you on that. I’m clean. No diseases. I have the medical records to prove it if you want. So I don’t want to use any condoms.”

  “I’m clean,” I answered.

  “Okay,” Tristan said. “If you decide to sleep with other guys while we’re in our arrangement, you’d have to use condoms with them, then.”

  “Okay, done.”

  Tristan seemed surprised I had agreed so willingly.

  All of a sudden, he gave me a fearful look. “You’re not taping this or anything like that are you?” he asked me with a scared whisper. “You’re not a….”

  I didn’t let him finish. “No, I am not recording this.” I rolled my eyes at his antics. “But don’t think the thought didn’t cross my mind – it probably wouldn’t have been a bad idea to tape our conversation, but I have no recorder on my phone.”

  He nodded. And then my mind started thinking and all of a sudden the look of horror transferred from Tristan’s face to mine.

  “You’re not going to film me or anything having sex with you are you?” I asked, barely able to breathe. “You’re not going to put cameras in the bathroom connected to the internet or anything like that?”

  In another situation, it would have been cute to see Tristan’s face furrow in confusion, trying to figure out what I was talking about. Then, as realization set in, transfigure in horror.

  “No!” he replied with shock and disgust. “What the fuck? No, of course not.”

  I nodded, the point checked off as he went off, clearly agitated. “Listen, I’m not into doing anything weird and shit. I’m just talking about simple, regular sex between a guy and a girl – nothing all perverted or fucked up.”

  “Well, this situation is a bit perverted and fucked up, Tristan,” I said, unable to stop myself. “I’m just trying to understand the rules to your game.”

  “There’s no game, Alicia,” he responded. “I’m just a guy with needs – both in my apartment and in the bedroom. I’m just looking for a girl who has financial needs I can help with in exchange.”

  I sat and wondered for a second. A question had been going through my head for a while.

  “How is this arrangement you’re looking for different from prostitution?” I asked.

  Tristan took a deep breath. He looked me in the eyes as he spoke, in a clear and confident voice with no hesitation. “I can’t answer that question for you, Alicia. I’ve wondered that once or twice, but I know it’s not. Maybe, because it’s happening in a long-term relationship than what you normally have prostitutes for. But also because it depends on what you consider prostitution – it doesn’t always just have to be sex.”

  He had a point. I sat there for a moment thinking. When I didn’t say anything, Tristan asked me instead. “Are you seriously considering this or did you just come down here to ask questions and call me names in your head?”’

  There was nothing angry about his question. He seemed more tired and worn out than anything else.

  “I’m actually seriously considering it,” I said, tossing him a bone. “But there are a lot of points I need to think about.”

  He nodded as I continued. “The no condoms is a big point.”

  “I can have my medical records emailed to you if you’re serious.”

  “Let’s say I’m serious enough that you should get that email ready,” I said. “I’ll know by the day after tomorrow.”

  Tristan nodded. “Thanks for not going crazy, Alicia,” he said quietly. “You have my number if you have any more questions.”

  I nodded back.

  “I gotta get back to work then,” he said.

  I said nothing as he nodded goodbye and left the café. I sat there and thought about the conversation I had just had.

  As much as this idea revolted me, and as much as I called him ‘The Pervert’ in my head, he really wasn’t that creepy at all. In fact, he seemed quite well-adjusted and normal. He was very easy on the eyes, and again it seemed hard to believe that he would have trouble finding sex on the side. I mean, this was New York City. The only flaw in him that I could see was that his idea of a live-in housekeeper was a girl that also put out. Considering that he was the owner of a startup, he was probably working all hours of the day. Probably someone who was shy as a kid and not likely to hit up the dating pool and someone who didn’t have much time for relationships.

  In a fucked up way, I understood why he’d want an arrangement like this with sex and housework provided for room and board.

  I may have understood that part, but what kept nagging me was the ring. What was up with it? Where was the wife?

  I began to list the pros and cons in my head as to whether or not to accept this strange arrangement.

  There were a lot of cons.

  No condom sex.

  But FREE rent!

  Going on the pill.

  FREE food!

  What happened if his wife ever found out?

  FREE RENT!

  What about any future boyfriends I might have?

  If you’re starving? FREE food!

  His apartment was far from my work at the coffee shop.

  Give me a break. He’s beautiful. It’s just sex. You can leave whenever you want. He works all the time so you wouldn’t see him as much. FREE FOOD! FREE RENT!

  After some thought, I was surprised to find that I wasn’t that worried about the idea that I was giving sex in exchange for rent. I mean, it was still pretty strange, but looking back I wondered if I hadn’t done similar in the past. Maybe not exchange sex for food, but what about for affection? Or the feeling of security? Or status? In fact, did I ever have sex when I didn’t hope to gain something from it?

  Here, I was getting something real. A roof and a meal. The terms were formalized prior to engaging in it. In the past, hadn’t I traded sex for love? In less formalized terms? And in the end, because the parties didn’t agree to the terms upfront, the guy got the sex that he wanted, and I ended up with squat.

  But here, I was getting what I wanted.

  Wasn’t I?

  I had decided. I was going to do it. But I didn’t want to call him back too soon. So I left the café and went home, where I brooded on it some more. I decided to give him a counter-proposal. Around 8 pm that night, I decided to give him a call.

  He picked up on the first ring and I could tell by the background noise that he was still at work. Briefly I wondered if Derek and Robert were there as he took the call from me. Did they know?

  I dove right into my counter-proposal. “I’ll accept the arrangement, but I have some terms of my own that we need to go through,” I said.

  “What are they?” he asked. There was no malice. We were conducting a simple business arrangement to him.

  “First, you need to pay for my birth control. I can’t afford it.”

  “Done.”

  That was easy. I moved on. “Second, your apartment is far. You need to pay for my MetroCard.”

  He paused. “I�
��ll get you an unlimited card once a month.”

  Score! I was on a roll.

  “You can’t sleep with anyone else as long as I’m staying in the apartment.”

  There was a longer pause. Was this a dealbreaker?

  “Done,” he replied.

  Okay. Last one. “You need to tell me what’s going on with your wife.”

  There was a much longer silence. All of a sudden, the background noise ceased, as if he had closed a door.

  “I can’t do that,” he replied. “My wife’s story is my own. If I tell you, I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

  I was on a roll and wasn’t giving up that easy. “Listen, Tristan,” I started. “If she comes back and it gets ugly, it’s going to affect me…”

  “She’s not coming back and it won’t affect you,” he said, cutting me off. “She’s not…in the picture anymore and she’s not going to come in one morning to find you.”

  Now it was my turn to pause. Tristan could sense my hesitation.

  “Listen, I’m not living some secret life. I don’t have a wife in another apartment or anything. That’s my home. Your welcome to come see it, but there’s no wife. I have a pretty simple life. I work, I come home, I eat, and then I sleep. That’s all.”

  There was something there with the wife. But for now, I was willing to let it slide. After all, I didn’t really have anything to commit here. If I didn’t like the arrangement, I could always leave. I had had plenty of ‘failed’ relationships that were much worse than this.

  “Alright,” I said into the phone. “I’m in.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath. “Great,” came the reply. “Do you want to see the place?”

  “Yes,” I replied as if that was what I was going to say all along. The truth of the matter was, I was so desperate, I would live anywhere.

  “I’ll come by tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

  “That’s great.”

  “If the place is okay, then I’ll move in next Friday.”

  “Sounds good. Do you want help moving?”

  That took me aback. They said you had friends in New York City, and then you had friends who helped you move. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good,” he agreed with a jovial tone. “Oh, and Alicia?”

  “Yes?”

  “If you like the apartment, first month’s rent is due to secure the place for move in.”

  “Oh. Does that…”

  “Yes. I’ll see you then.” He hung up.

  I felt sick.

  The next day, I wondered what kind of man Tristan really was. When he said 72nd and Lexington Avenue, he should have said that it took up the whole block. Which meant an entrance was on Lexington Avenue, and another entrance was on Park Avenue.

  72nd and Park Avenue?!?

  Should really have worn the black dress instead of the faded jeans…

  The doorman that opened the door for me was fancy. The lobby was fancy. The elevator ride up was fancy.

  Tristan opening the door to an apartment that was spacious, well-lit with bay windows, an open kitchen, spacious living room, dining room, and three bedrooms each with their own balconies was just out of this world.

  He had mentioned something about the square footage before, but I was literally floored when I saw the place.

  It was untidy, true. But I could tell that a little bit of organizing and some work would have it look amazing.

  How could someone so handsome, and obviously loaded be so pervy?

  “Does it meet with your satisfaction?” Tristan asked me after showing me around.

  Oh yes!

  “I guess,” I said, not wanting to betray my self-indignation.

  He smiled slightly, leaning back on the counter.

  I looked at him.

  “So…next Friday move in?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “Do I sign anything?”

  “Not if you don’t want to. You’re free to leave whenever you want.”

  His eyes roamed my body. This was it. He was waiting for the final piece of the transaction.

  I still couldn’t believe what I was doing.

  My mouth had turned dry and my heart was about to implode; still, I swallowed in my pride and shame. I had to do it.

  I unzipped his pants, hesitating as I saw the bulging shape straining against the fabric of his underwear. He was big, probably the biggest I had ever seen.

  My heart punched and kicked against my chest anxiously as I pulled down his boxers, his cock springing free like a monument to manhood. I grasped him by the root, a pleasant warmness in my hand. For a fraction of a second I couldn't really decide if what I was doing repulsed me or, in a way, pleased me.

  Pull yourself together, I ordered myself. Tristan was nothing more than a creep. Sure, he was handsome, loaded and polite. That didn't make him any less despicable.

  I stroked him softly, my hand going up and down his length as I gained the necessary courage to do what I had to. I breathed in deeply and leaned into him, my tongue reaching out for his tip. As I touched it a pleasant saltiness filled me and my insides clenched.

  I was doing it, I was really doing it.

  I parted my lips and took him in my mouth, inch by inch, his throbbing hardness sliding inside of me gently. I licked his shaft as my lips tightened around it in an up and down embrace, realizing that, yes, he was big indeed.

  I started going faster, bobbing my head back and forth as I cupped and massaged his balls with one hand. He felt warm and nice, his heat pulsing inside my mouth in a way that made something deep inside my loins stir...

  Focus, goddamnit, focus, I commanded once more to my rebellious mind. What the hell was wrong with me? I couldn't and I wouldn't enjoy being Tristan's sex slave. I would do it because I had to, nothing more than that.

  I felt his fingers running through my hair, his fingertips brushing softly against the back of my neck. I looked up at him and his eyes were closed, his head tilted back. He was breathing faster by the minute - soon my ordeal would be over.

  As I pulled out, gasping for air, I stroked him harder. His body trembled slightly and I could feel his muscles tensing up like a coiled spring. I took him in my mouth once more, my lips running down his member hastily - his fingers clawed at long strands of my hair, holding my head in place, and that was it.

  I felt his cum flood my mouth and, although my initial reaction was to pull back, I remained still as the product of his pleasure coated my mouth. I couldn’t believe it, but I was enjoying it far more than I had expected to.

  I pulled back as his cock gave its last spasms against my tongue. In the end, undecided if I should make a run to the bathroom, I simply took the easy way out and swallowed, his saltiness burning down my throat.

  “It’s a start…” He said, his chest going up and down more calmly now.

  With about as much dignity as I could muster, I got to my feet. Concluding our business per se, I turned around and walked towards the door.

  “Oh,” I said, turning my head back to him. “You can help me move. Or get movers or something.”

  He wanted me at his beck and call, I might as well get him to help me move, damn it.

  The Price

  The room that I was given by Tristan was at least 14 feet by 14 feet with a walk-in closet and its own bathroom. There was a private balcony that it led out to. The apartment, or condo, was on the 46th floor of a new tower that had gone up on Park Avenue. It was furnished with a very soft, but firm mattress, a dresser, and a drawer. The sliding doors to the balcony let in a good amount of sunlight in the mornings and throughout the day, and it had the air of a happy, affluent place in the sky.

  Despite the size of the room, I also had access to the whole house so there was no way I was feeling cramped at all.

  I didn’t really have much to move – just a few bags of clothes and an old reclining chair that I kept for sentimental reasons. I didn’t really think much of it until a moving truck wit
h the word ‘Ace Movers’ showed up in front of my building. It was a giant truck and five men that came at 5 pm, expecting a fully stocked apartment.

  They found one suitcase, one duffel bag, four bags of clothes, and one reclining chair.

  They were done in ten minutes.

  Because I had so little to move, it was pretty easy to unpack. Tristan had stopped by the coffee shop to drop off the keys, so he wasn’t home when I started unpacking. But by the time I was done, he had come by the apartment. I realized the whole move had taken only an hour.

  “Did the move go okay?” he asked me quite pleasantly.

  I was still smarting over the last time I had seen him and the salty souvenir he had left in my mouth. I looked at him darkly, as if those solicitous questions had the power to cut me. “Yes,” I replied blandly.

  “Okay, great,” he responded. “Let me know if you need any help settling.”

  I remained silent. Who the hell did he think he was offering me help after what he did to me?

  But then I realized that I had come here voluntarily and, if I was being completely honest, I had somewhat enjoyed what had happened. I lifted my eyes to look at his beautiful body and said weakly, “Okay. Thanks, I guess.”

  “Take today to settle in, acquaint yourself. I’ll order Seamless for dinner. You can start tomorrow.”

  With that he turned around and walked back down the hall.

  Start tomorrow? Gee, buddy, thanks so much. I’ll cook dinner and fuck you tomorrow, I guess.

  I hurriedly closed my door.

  An hour later, as I was gazing out the window at the view, the smell of fragrant Thai food wafted in through the door.

  I love Thai food!

  Green curry, red curry, pad thai, pineapple chicken, you name it, I loved it. In college I had gone on a research trip to Bangkok and it was phenomenal.

  I heard footsteps coming down the long hallway to my room. Then I heard a knock on my door. I looked at the door as Tristan said, “I got Thai Basil and some beers. I left the food in the dining room, if you want.”

  My stomach growled, but my pride was stronger. I got up and cracked open the door to look at him. “Do I have to eat with you too?” I asked a bit sarcastically.