The Proposal Problem: A Billionaire Royal Hangover Romance

by Natalie Knight

  With her pussy on my mouth, I react by instinct and open my mouth wide, using both my lips and tongue to ravage her wetness.

  Swaying her hips rhythmically, she rubs her pussy against my face, slowly losing control. I hook my fingers on her hips, forcing her to press her pussy against my mouth, and I use my tongue to ravage her insides at the same time. I flick it up and down the length of her pussy, always making sure to take care of her clit, and she rewards me with a string of generous moans.

  Then, pulling out of my mouth, she slowly slides her body down mine, her lips tracing a downward line over my chest.

  Guiding my shaft right where she needs it to be, she eases herself down, allowing my cock to pierce her. The moment she feels all of my inches buried deep inside her, she starts moving her hips back and forth in a flowing motion. She rides me fast and hard, her eyes closed as moans just tumble out of her lips.

  I grab her ass cheeks and feel the movement of her body, placing my fingertips over her ass crack. I can notice her whole body shivering, so I spread her cheeks wider and start caressing the gap between them, moving one finger up and down.

  As she jumps up and down and back and forth, the movement of her body grows even more violent. She´s truly driving me crazy as she rides me hard, straight into oblivion, finishing off with one sudden thrust.

  I hold my position and the whole universe seems to explode inside her body, such is the heat coming from her skin. I can almost picture the fireworks going off behind her closed eyelids.

  “Oh my God! That felt so good,” she says between moans, resting her head down on my chest.

  “I’m not done with you yet,” I grin and, before she knows it, I push her to the floor and make her roll to the side. Pushing her knees apart, I settle my body between her legs.

  She looks in anticipation as I edge closer to her, the thick head of my cock reaching for her inner lips. She shudders as I press it there, rubbing my tip along her pussy and up to her clit. I then slap my shaft against her wet pussy twice and she almost bangs her head against the floor in madness.

  She opens her legs wide and lets out a scream. I enter her fast, my shaft sliding deep inside of her, her tightness sending shards of absolute rapture from her pussy to my mind.

  I thrust at her like that for God knows how long, my body pressing down on hers. She laces her legs behind my back, but she’s not locking me into place; she allows me the freedom to move in and out at will – which I do.

  I keep on thrusting hard and violently for a long time, this moment so delicious that I can imagine myself spending the whole day like this, lying on the floor while I ravage her.

  I continue until all strength leaves her body, her legs sliding down from my back to the floor as all muscles in her body become taut. I pound her even strongly then, feeling her weakness. Her pussy tightens around my cock and she screams out loud as she comes once more.

  Closing my eyes, I continue fucking her with abandonment, beads of sweat dripping down from my face and falling onto the floor. My muscles seem to be burning with the effort, but I don’t stop; instead, I go even faster, pushing through the pain and exhaustion.

  “I’m going to come,” I groan, and that unleashes something inside her. Next thing I know, my cock is already out of her pussy and she’s rolling to the side and going to her knees. Grabbing my thick member, she starts stroking me hard.

  The moment she feels slight spasms running through the length of my shaft, she doesn’t hesitate. She just opens her mouth and dives in, taking my whole cock into her mouth.

  My whole body tenses up and a fraction of a second later I explode, my milky seed spilling into her mouth like a raging river. Just one burst and her mouth is already brimming with cum.

  Reacting on instinct alone, she takes her mouth out of my cock, allowing me to gush my seed all over her naked body. She keeps on moving her hands over my cock as I come; heavy beads drip down her face, running over the curves of her lips, as more strands splatter against her breasts.

  She only opens up her eyes when my cock stops throbbing against her fingers.

  Looking down, she takes her hands off my shaft and smiles, seeing her own skin glistening, a thin layer of creamy semen on her naked body.

  “Oh, Jesus,” she sighs, sitting up on the floor and leaning back against the wall. “What the hell has just happened?”

  “I have no fucking idea,” I breathe out, joining her against the wall and throwing my head back. I close my eyes, listening to the sound of my own heartbeat, and I can’t help but smile. I just came in here to deliver lunch and try to save my character, and I ended up getting the best sex of my life.

  Not bad for a Friday.

  “You gotta go…” She says out of the blue, and I look at her and blink twice before I realize what she’s saying. “No one can find out about this, or else we’ll be in trouble.”

  “We’ll be in trouble, right,” I mutter, suddenly realizing that the reason I came into her office was because I wanted to stay out of trouble.

  Oh, fuck it, this was worth it.

  We get dressed in a hurry, keeping the silence as we do it, and then I make my way toward the door. I lay my hand on the handle, but then I turn around and meet her gaze.

  “See you for lunch next Monday,” I tell her, and then I just leave, my I-just-had-the-best-sex-of-my-life smile on my face.

  9

  Kayla

  I put my mop and bucket back under the laundry sink. My floors are so clean I can see my own reflection, and I know I could eat off them.

  It’s been a while since I’ve scrubbed my apartment from top to bottom two days in a row. Usually I just get the cleaning lady to come during the week so I don’t have to be bothered with housework on my days off.

  But this weekend was different. Sex the other day with Brad has left me a little confused. My cage has been rattled.

  With the cleaning equipment out of the way, I go back into the living room and put some music on. My eyes travel along the rows of books in the bookshelves, but nothing leaps out to say “read me.”

  I ponder what else I can do to distract myself. Mentally, I tick off the housework already done: dusting done, washing done, ironing done, floors done, and windows cleaned.

  I walk to the stereo. Alright, let’s focus on the music then. Music is soothing; it calms the mind.

  Should I have pushed Brad away when he started kissing me? Hard call. I’m only human after all, and it’s been a while since I’ve had sex.

  Well, in fact, I’ve never had sex the way Brad and I went at it the other day.

  Will it get out? Will the rumor mills go wild and make my life a writer’s hell? And what would Ed make of it?

  Sick of being confined to my four walls, I decide to head out. Fresh air, exercise, and a change of scenery are what I need.

  I decide to drive to the canyon for a run. It’s Saturday, and I will go for a run around this time.

  Brad has rattled my cage, sure, but maybe it’s best I keep to my routine. It will clear my headspace…there’s nothing better for it than being out in rugged, beautiful terrain. The view from the canyon always leaves me feeling a little better.

  It somehow puts into place how insignificant we humans really are. We are these tiny beings in a huge unknown space—the pimple on the ass of the universe.

  With my running shoes on, my hair tied back, and water bottle in hand, I get into my car. Once at the canyon, I park and do a few stretches. The last thing I want to do is pull a muscle or strain a ligament.

  To my relief, there aren’t that many people up here today. It is a very popular walk, and sometimes it can be difficult to park your car.

  I set off. My mind mulls over the Brad dilemma. I’m a firm believer that it’s no good to be involved with a work colleague, and there’s no arguing Brad is a work colleague.

  I’m the head writer and he’s one of the main stars on the show. It could get complicated.

  But then, of course, I could b
e overreacting. I’ve made no plans to see Brad again, nor has he suggested another date. Of course, sex isn’t really a date anyway.

  Kayla, when did your life become so complicated? I thought to myself.

  I round a corner in the path and collide with something soft. It’s a human being. It’s a man.

  A man I know.

  For a second or so, I hold my breath. What’s he doing here?

  “Hey, Scott,” I say and try to bring my breathing under control. Scott is holding me by my shoulders. “Are you stalking me?” I’m joking, of course, although I always regret saying it.

  What if he thinks I’m a weirdo?

  “I am,” Scott replies, and the look in his eyes tell me he isn’t entirely lying. Okay, what’s going on in here?

  His touch is messing with my brain, desire wells up in me, and nerve cells start to tingle.

  “You are?” I repeat to try and hide my feelings. My heart rate is increasing even though I’m standing still. I hope my yearning for his touch is not too obvious.

  “I can’t lie.” Scott finally lets me go and takes a step backward. He’s grinning at me.

  I try to say something witty back, but I draw a blank. Instead, my gaze feasts on his six-pack and bulky shoulders. Weightlifting is definitely part of Scott’s workout.

  His thigh muscles are bulging, and I know I’m staring at his crotch. I can’t help but wonder…how big is his cock?

  “I know why you’re stalking me,” I say, eventually forcing myself to look into his face.

  “You do?” Scott lifts his hands in mock innocence.

  “You’ve heard one of you is going to get killed off. And you want to know if its you.”

  Scott takes a little bow.

  “You’re correct, dear madam. But only partly correct.”

  I raise my eyebrows and say, “Really? And what would the other reason be?”

  Before he answers, I can guess what is coming. His eyes speak volumes. I’m wearing my cropped running top and knee-length tights.

  His gaze has practically undressed me already. And yet I want to hear it from him.

  “I’ve come out here today to go for a run with the gorgeous head writer of our show. I want to get to know you.” The grin of the cat that caught the mouse accompanies his words.

  I laugh. Luckily, he can’t see under my clothes. Between my legs, a little wetness appears already. It catches me by surprise; am I really reacting like this around this hunk of a man several days after Brad has fucked me?

  Can it be something in the water? Has someone tampered with it and added some form of aphrodisiac? I vow to buy bottled water for the next few weeks, knowing my theory is totally baseless and borders on silliness.

  I slap him on the shoulder. The tips of my fingers burn with desire as my flesh touches his.

  “With only one purpose in mind, I bet.”

  Scott’s grin widens. “Is it that obvious? Or are you able to read me better because you are a writer?”

  Instead of a reply, I decide it is time to issue a challenge.

  “Well, dear prince,” I start and turn back toward the way I had been going. “If you want to find out who is going to be killed at my hand, you better race me to the top.”

  “What’s the prize?”

  I turn back to him one more time.

  “We’ll race to the end of the trail. If you win, I’ll tell you who gets killed.”

  “And if you win?”

  Instead of an answer, I turn and start to run.

  My feet fly across the uneven ground. I keep my eyes peeled forward. I don’t want to collide with anyone else.

  Usually I take time to admire the magnificent view from up the valley and the homes below, but not now. There’s purpose to my running.

  I’m driven to impress. It’s not that I don’t want Scott to win. Truth is, I still have no idea who is getting killed and who stays.

  I don’t like the idea, and so I haven’t written the scene yet.

  No, the run has taken on a different purpose all together. The minute I had laid eyes on Scott in skimpy shorts—shorts so short that not much is left to the imagination and a wide-cut singlet—an almost animalistic desire awakened deep within me.

  I want to impress Scott. I want him behind me and feasting on my backside.

  In my imagination, I picture myself pulling his shorts off and freeing his throbbing cock.

  After another bend in the track, I have to slow down. A stitch in the right side of my abdomen is making it difficult to keep at the pace I had started.

  “Keeping up, snail?” I call over my shoulder to Scott, who’s now a little distance behind me.

  “Insult me all you want. We are not there yet.”

  I keep running. I’m enjoying this.

  “Hope you’re enjoying the view back there.” I can’t resist the urge to needle him a little.

  “More than you can imagine” comes the instant reply.

  Scott’s gaining on me.

  Part of me tries to pick up my pace again, but another wants to keep the distance between us small so I can keep teasing him.

  I want him to take the bait.

  With the end of the trail in sight, I need to plan my next move. If I win, what prize will I claim?

  My nerve endings are almost screaming at me to ask for him, all of him inside me, but I wonder how I should play the game.

  Here I have been worried about my antics with Brad, and to solve that problem, I’m now considering throwing myself at my other main star in the show.

  Talk about from fire into the frying pan.

  Of course, I could let Scott win, and then I wouldn’t have to ask for any prize. But where would the fun be in that?

  I turn back to see Scott steadily closing the gap between us. His expression is full of lust.

  “Come and get it,” I taunt.

  10

  Scott

  Running usually relaxes me, but this run is anything but. My mind is racing with a thousand images flashing through my head.

  I’ve only ever seen Kayla behind a desk, in the writer’s room, or at a table read, and she always has her head down, pecking away at her keyboard. Until now, I never looked at her closely, or thought about her as a woman.

  Maybe she’s a decent person, who knows? It’s damn hard to trust anyone in Hollywood. This industry is callous, and she probably doesn’t give two shits about my character or my career. If she decides to kill me off…well…I don’t know what I’m going to do. My mortgage isn’t going to pay for itself. A multi-million-dollar mansion doesn’t come cheap after all.

  If I didn’t need the money so badly, I would give them all the finger and go back to indie films. But let’s face it, there are major perks to being on a hit TV show, and The Kings is one bad-ass series. I gotta admit I like raking in the big bucks every week, and the star treatment, the separate trailer, the personal assistant, and all the swag.

  If I’m being honest, low budget movies are ghetto in every way, and besides, the food fucking sucks.

  I’m no prima donna, I just like the creature comforts I have right now. I think I've earned them, and everyone deserves a few pleasures in their life. Right?

  There are some actors who think it’s annoying to be constantly hounded by groupies, the paparazzi, and anyone else looking to get into their personal lives.

  But, fuck it. My mother always said, you gotta take the good with the bad. So, if the bad means going through gyrations with the public in order to enjoy some luxuries, then, I’m all in. Because continually looking for my next gig is not what I consider a good time.

  So, this Kayla person needs to come through. Big time.

  She wants to race me for the answers, fine. I’ll play along with her game. But it’s working my last nerve, because I’m forcing myself to be nice, and nice isn’t usually how I play.

  I just want to know – Is my character dead? Or am I staying on the show?

  I slow my pace so I can run next
to her. I want her to know I’m pissed that I have to tackle this dumb-ass trail just to find out what she has in mind for me.

  I turn to say something, but I hold myself back from releasing the shit storm inside of me. Not the reaction I expected from myself.

  She gives me a sideways glance and suddenly I don’t feel angry.

  Hmm…what am I feeling for this woman who has the power to delete me from the script with one keystroke?

  Damn.

  Seeing her here in the great outdoors with her cute little running shorts, and I do mean little, as in petite, as in barely there, makes me want to see more of her.

  Scott, get fucking straight. You’re here for one reason only, to discover your fate.

  I hate when I talk to myself. This woman is somehow getting to me. Not what I want to happen. Not at all. I’m a tough guy. Not a pussy.

  “Tougher than you thought,” Kayla teases.

  It takes me a minute to understand she's talking about the trail.

  “Ha,” I force a laugh. “Ain’t nothin’ tough about it. Just enjoying the view.”

  I’m running, but I’m not trying to beat her. I just let her set the pace and continue to take glances in her direction. Damn, she’s pulling me in.

  Stealing glances at her face, I can see that without any make up, this woman’s skin looks awfully touchable. And her naturally pink lips are just begging to be kissed.

  I know Kayla’s not gonna tell me what I want to know until we're done playing this little cat- and-mouse game. Okay, fine. As long as I have to play by her rules, who says I can’t have fun? Time to shift gears, let her get ahead of me. I might as well enjoy the view while I’m out here working up a sweat.

  I slow it way down, and rub at my side. I make her think I’ve got a pain and let her pass me. What the fuck – I’ll pull out a sprint in the last eighth of a mile and get what I came for. In the meantime, I’m going to get a look at her from behind.