Cherry released a shuddering breath. “I think I hate you.”
“Hate me all you want, as long as you come for me.”
With a moan, she reached between her legs and found the thick, pulsing length of his shaft, the condom tight and slick over his skin. And then she guided him into her aching pussy, unable to hold back her little, whimpering sighs.
He pressed into her with searing heat, slow and steady and fucking perfect. His cock filled her, inch by delicious inch, the slick friction almost unbearably good. Ruben sank into her with the same fucking focus he used to lick her to orgasm, the same focus he used to kiss her senseless. By the time she felt the velvet nudge of his balls against her clit, he was so fucking deep she could barely draw breath. Even the slightest movement sent sparks of pleasure straight to her core.
Then he kissed the back of her neck, and the strong arm holding her up tightened almost imperceptibly, and he whispered her name as if it was a prayer, his voice broken. “God,” he breathed raggedly. “I—I need you so fucking much.”
“You have me.”
“Do I?” He pulled back, moaning at the slow slide. “Fuck. You’re unbelievable. I knew as soon as I saw you. I knew you were mine.”
He thrust into her and Cherry’s mind scrambled, all her focus stolen by the rising crest of pleasure within her. “Ruben. More.”
He took her hand and pushed it between her legs. “Play with yourself. Come on my cock.” She rubbed her clit in rough, desperate circles and he hissed, thrusting into her again, harder this time. “Good girl. Good fucking girl. Jesus Christ, I can feel you tightening on my dick—“ He broke off with a groan, and his grip on her breast became savage. His other hand clutched the back of the love seat so hard his knuckles whitened.
And then he really fucked her. Harder than anyone ever had, harder than she even thought she could take.
He grunted over her with each powerful thrust, his cock spearing into her, forcing her to open up for him. She spread her legs wider, arched beneath him, welcomed each ferocious pump of his hips with a mindless cry. Her fingers circled her clit frantically, and her second orgasm hit harder than even she’d expected.
She moaned helplessly beneath him as he fucked her through every shudder, the love seat, heavy though it was, edging across the floor with the force of his movements.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” he panted, his voice almost unrecognisable, he was so close to the edge. “Look at me. Look at me.”
Cherry’s eyes had slid shut under the sensual force of his touch, but she turned her head and opened them to meet his gaze. His eyes were inky in the shadows, his features harsh with lust. He kissed her, hard and rough, his unrestrained thrusts setting her aflame even as his tongue plundered her mouth.
Cherry gasped against him as another orgasm shook her, and he growled deep in his chest, tearing his lips from hers. “Fuck,” he rasped out, his thrusts stuttering, his breath ragged. “Fuck, I—“
His words turned into a harsh cry as he came, holding her tight against his chest. He sank his teeth into her shoulder as his cock jerked inside her, his hips bucking.
Then he stilled, the tension draining from his muscles. His hold on her gentled, became almost protective as he released a long, shuddering breath. He kissed her shoulder, brushing his lips over the skin he’d bitten.
“Holy fuck,” he sighed.
Cherry slumped against the back of the love seat, still on her knees, their bodies still joined, his skin still hot against hers.
He pressed a kiss to the side of her face. “You okay, love?”
She forced her eyes open, even though exhaustion had settled over her like a blanket some time in the last few seconds. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m good. I’m great.”
He grinned. Just like that, he went from the man who’d just fucked her senseless to the man she…
Well. She wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. She just knew that the sight of his smile did things to her heart, set butterflies free in her stomach, and made her want to kiss him. On the nose. And call him baby or sweetheart are something equally embarrassing.
Oh, dear. She was very far gone. And so well-fucked, she didn’t even care.
He pressed his lips to hers, achingly gentle, then pulled back and whispered, “I like the way you’re looking at me right now.”
She laughed. “That’s funny. I like the way you’re looking at me.”
“Good.” He kissed her again, soft and almost reverent. She couldn’t ignore the way her heart swelled in response, seeming twice its usual size and inexplicably lighter, all at once.
Then he shifted his weight and pulled out of her, looking down between their bodies…
And his face changed. Was wiped blank. Completely emotionless. Everything about him stiffened, pulled away from her, even though he hadn’t moved at all.
“What?” She asked, anxiety skittering along her spine. Suddenly, the air around them felt cool and unwelcoming. She became hyper-conscious of her nakedness, of the vulnerability of her position. “What is it?”
And he said, his gaze still fixed on something she couldn’t see, “It broke.”
Cherry frowned, confused. “What broke?”
“The condom,” he choked out. “It fucking broke.” He stood up all at once, as if he couldn’t bear to touch her.
Cherry stood too, turning around just in time to catch a glimpse of his face. He looked pale, horrified, as if he were going to be sick. His chest rose and fell as he dragged in air, his breathing becoming a series of heaving pants.
“Ruben,” she said, keeping her voice as even as possible. “You need to calm down. Okay? Just breathe.”
When he didn’t respond, she reached out to touch him, to soothe him. He flinched away as if she were on fire.
The movement, tiny as it was, felt like a punch in the face. Cherry let her hand drop, her heart falling with it. Then she hardened her jaw and lifted her chin and turned away. She needed some clothes. Immediately.
“Wait, Cherry—I’m sorry.” His voice sounded like an echo of itself, weak and carried by those anxious, dragged-in breaths. “I’m sorry. I just—“
“What the fuck?” She demanded, whirling around to face him, her temper appearing out of nowhere. “So it broke. Why are you so…” She gestured helplessly at his face, twisted in misery, the sheen of sweat on his brow. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
He frowned as if she’d spoken another language. “What do you mean?”
“Do you… have something?”
It took him a second to figure out what she was talking about. “Jesus, no. I would’ve told you. I mean, I would’ve—”
“Do you think I have something?”
“No,” he said, his voice firmer, closer to its usual self. He reached out to grab her wrist, but she jerked away. Because she couldn’t erase the look on his face, the way he’d avoided her touch. As if he were disgusted. “Cherry,” he said, and now he had the fucking nerve to look upset. “It’s nothing to do with you. I just… I can’t get you pregnant.”
Oh, Christ. Where the fuck were her clothes?
She stormed around the sofa and found her damned Dolly Parton T-shirt lying by a bookshelf. Her underwear was a lost cause, but the T-shirt was just long enough to cover the important parts. If she tugged down the hem and held it there with one hand. Which was exactly how she wanted to continue this conversation. Great. Fucking great.
“Cherry,” he sighed, as if she were being unreasonable. “You have to understand—I mean, what would we do? If there was a baby? We couldn’t just separate. I’d have to—“
“You’d have to marry me,” she finished. “God for-fucking-bid.” And where the hell had that come from? She didn’t want to marry him anyway. This was a business deal. A contractual agreement. But it was her fault for allowing lines to be blurred, for getting carried away. She should’ve used her new-found riches to invest in a better vibrator instead.
“No,” Ruben insisted. “That’s not what I meant. I was going to say I’d have to… I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.” His tone became gentle, apologetic, as if he were breaking her Goddamn heart when he said, “I can’t handle kids, Cherry.”
“No-one was asking you to,” she snapped. “I’m on the pill, by the way. So don’t worry. Nothing will get in the way of you dropping me once our time is up.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said again, and now he sounded angry. Him! Angry! She’d laugh at his fucking audacity if she weren’t so bloody furious. “I panicked,” he gritted out. “It was a reflex. And I’m sorry. I’ve never… I’ve never been in this position before.”
“Right,” she said, giving him her sweetest smile, her most reasonable tone. “Because I fake engagements with foreign fucking royalty every other week.”
“I’m not talking about the engagement. I’m, talking about…” He gestured wildly between them, something bright and dangerous and uncontrolled in his eyes. “This! Us!”
“Us?” She forced herself to laugh, as if she was truly amused. As if she hadn’t a care in the fucking world. “You sound like a child, Ruben. We had sex. That doesn’t mean there’s an us.”
His jaw tightened. “Don’t fucking do that.”
“Oh, is that an order?”
“Cherry.”
“Ruben. Let me make something clear: I am not here to trap you. In fact, you trapped me. And it may be news to you that not every woman on earth wants to carry your royal fucking babies—“
“Cherry—“
“But they don’t! Okay? I don’t! What do you think I am, desperate? Like I’d chase a man who doesn’t want me? Who the fuck do you think I am?”
He ran a hand through his hair, his expression almost helpless. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” she said. “Because I’m not doing this again. Not with you. Clearly we need to keep things as uncomplicated as possible. But it’ll be a long fucking year without some dick to pass the time.”
He flinched as if she’d hit him. But he didn’t stop her as she marched past him and out into the hall.
And Cherry almost convinced herself that she didn’t care.
Chapter 25
Spending hours in a car with a woman who hated him was painful. Spending hours in a car with a woman he loved to distraction—a woman he knew from the coils of her hair to her pink-painted toe nails, a woman who hadn’t always hated him but certainly did now—was torture.
Ruben really fucking wished he’d given her the ring before now. But they couldn’t meet his brother without it, and in a few short minutes, they’d be there. At the palace. The backdrop to all his nightmares.
“Cherry,” he said, cracking the thick slab of silence between them.
She turned her head from the window and looked across the limo’s dark interior to meet his eyes, her movements robotic. She didn’t reply. Just looked, her gaze burning, beautifully furious and breaking his fucking heart.
His hands clumsier than usual, Ruben fumbled with the pocket inside his suit jacket for a few heavy seconds before producing the ring. There was no box; he didn’t know where the original one was, and he didn’t particularly care. The ring was all that mattered, and his mother would want Cherry to have it.
He wanted Cherry to have it.
But Cherry was looking at down at the diamond and sapphire ring in his hands as if it were a poisonous snake.
“You need to wear it,” he said gently. “For Harald.”
“Fucking Harald,” she muttered, holding out a hand for the ring. He wanted to smile at the sound of his own personal refrain on her lips. She hadn’t even met the king yet, but she already hated him.
It almost made Ruben forget that Harald wasn’t the only royal she hated right now. Almost.
As the car slowed, the sense of panicked urgency that had been choking Ruben all morning—since last night, in fact—swelled to its crescendo. He must’ve lost his mind for a moment, because instead of handing her the ring, he reached out to take her hand in his.
“Cherry,” he said, his voice low. “Listen to me, okay? Just listen.”
She glared, tried to tug her hand away, but he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t.
“Please. Please let me explain. Last night—”
“I don’t want to talk about last night,” she said sharply. Her mouth, so lush and full, was pressed into a hard, thin line. And he caught something vulnerable in her eyes, a wariness he’d put there. The sight threatened to tear his heart in two.
“I wasn’t thinking,” he said. “It had nothing to do with you. I’ve always been like that. I can’t bear the idea of children—”
“You love children,” she said, and for the first time he caught a flash of hurt in her voice. He’d known it was there, but hearing it…
She heard it too, because she looked horrified for a second, and then completely blank. When she spoke again, her voice was hard as steel. “It doesn’t matter. It’s ridiculous. I just don’t think it’s wise for us to keep blurring lines like this.”
“I hurt you,” he said. “I know I did. And that’s the last thing I wanted to do, because I don’t think of this as blurring lines, Cherry. That’s not what we’re doing. Being with you is a gift.”
The car came to a stop, and Cherry gave him a mutinous glare, tugging at their joined hands. “Stop this. Just give me the fucking ring.”
He wanted to blurt out the fact that he loved her, but she’d probably punch him in the face. So he released her with a sigh, and gave her the ring, and she shoved it onto her finger as if it were an afterthought.
For all she knew, it was fake, something he’d had Demi order for the purpose of this twisted charade. She had no idea how much that ring meant to him, and no idea how much she meant to him.
But he’d tell her. He’d make her see. Somehow. And he’d tell her about the thoughts that haunted him, about the anxiety that suffocated him whenever he thought of children, of creating another soul that might one day end up like him: vulnerable. Alone. Abused
The car door swung open and an anonymous hand reached in to help Cherry out, part of the security team. He heard her greet the man with her usual charm, her sparkling laughter floating into the car within seconds. She was already working her magic. And Ruben was frozen in time, struggling to breath. Because it had just occurred to him that he might fail. He might not get through to her. He might not prove his feelings or win back her trust.
And then, when the year was up, she’d leave.
Ruben was used to having Hans at his back. He wasn't used to having Cherry by his side.
But there she was, striding down this gilded fucking hall with him, matching him step for step. Though her steps were more of a strut.
The corridor leading towards his brother's receiving room was as splendid as the rest of the palace, which made it fucking abhorrent to Ruben. But he wasn't going to pretend that vaulted ceilings and marble cherubs and velvet tapestries were a fucking hardship on anything other than his taste. No, it wasn't the luxury that sent a bead of sweat crawling down his spine beneath the fancy fucking dress uniform he wore.
It was the memories.
"Good morning, Ruben. Are you ready for your lessons?"
Five year old Magnus blinked up at his older brother. "I already had my lessons, Harald. Who is Ruben?"
"You," his brother said in a voice Magnus didn't recognise. A voice he didn't quite like. It reminded him a little bit of when his daddy would tell him off. But when Daddy told him off, he was never afraid.
"When is Daddy coming back?" He asked.
Harald's face hardened. "He is not coming back, you little idiot. You don't come back from the sky."
Magnus felt tears begin to pool at the corners of his eyes. "Why not? God is nice. God will let Daddy and Mummy come down to see me—”
All at once, Magnus felt his feet lifted from the floor. It made his stomach flip, the way it used to when M
ummy picked him up and swung him round. But then the flip went away and was replaced by pain. His back and his head slammed into the wall, and Harald held him tight with hands that felt hard as stone.
Magnus felt his tears stream over his cheeks, but he was too breathless to scream out at the pain. As he gasped for air, he saw his brother sneer.
"Crying like a baby," he spat. "Be a man. Men don't cry."
Magnus couldn't stop himself from sobbing. The pain in his back and his head was searing, burning, the worst thing he'd ever felt, and Harald was scaring him, his face all twisted up and his hands so hard.
"Ruben!" Harald snapped, and shook him, hard.
Magnus cried out, "That is not my name! My name is Magnus! My name is Mag—”
"Harald." The door shut with a sharp click, and light footsteps pattered across the floor. Magnus knew that voice. This was his sister, Sophronia. She would help him. She would fix his head. He held out his arms towards the sound of her voice, his vision blurred by the tears that he still couldn't stop. "Sophy! Sophy!"
"Oh, for goodness sake, Harald. We talked about this."
Magnus didn't know what that meant, but he knew Sophy would help him. She was the one who always played with him and Daddy, whenever she came to visit. She was always smiling and sweet. She would take him away from Harald who had become so mean.
"You can't leave marks on him," Sophy said.
"I didn't. He's crying for no reason. He’s spoilt."
"Someone will hear him screaming."
"Let them. He needs to learn. Don't you, Ruben?" Another shake, harder than the first, and Magnus's head rang and rang like a big church bell, pain spreading out like a spider's web.
Still, he cried, his voice halting and choked, "My name is Magnus!"
Then he felt his sister. Her cool, soft touch against his cheeks, wiping away the tears until his vision was clear and his breath was calm. He looked up at her with gladness in his heart. She was so pretty, different to Mummy, but a little the same. Mummy was pretty too.
The Princess Trap Page 18
