by Jo Raven
Dirty Princes
(Hot Candy #3)
by Jo Raven
Dirty Princes
Jo Raven
Copyright Jo Raven 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Once upon a time, there lived a princess called Brylee who had a cat and a steady job and her eye on a handsome prince.
But Prince Ryan refused to put out. So she baked cookies and buttered muffins, without any double meaning whatsoever, and saved her cherry for her prince.
Who was being difficult and not following the damn script.
Then Riddick walked through the door and ate her cookie.
Literally, okay? It was a good cookie, too, with chocolate chip.
Riddick is drop-dead gorgeous, but not a prince. Regardless, Brylee can’t fight that burning attraction.
Even when Ryan suddenly becomes interested in her.
This isn’t how things were supposed to happen. She was supposed to get a prince, not get caught between a hot prince and a hunky pauper.
Come on.
Especially not when said prince and pauper can’t stand each other.
Brylee isn’t above letting two men fight for her. After all, that’s the essence of a good fairytale, right? A fight, a winner, a grand wedding and a happily ever after.
It’s fine. After all, she doesn’t want them both.
At the same time. In her bed. Like, ever.
#FamousLastWords
The Usual Warning: In these pages there is some dubious humor, serious boy torture, and mega angst, as well as hot sex including threesomes and boy-on-boy sex. You have been warned! Now go forth and have fun.
Table of Contents
Front Page
PART I
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
PART II
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Part III
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Acknowledgments
JO SAYS…
WHAT’S NEXT?
AUTHOR BIO
JO’s BOOKS
PART I
Once upon a time, there lived Princess Brylee who had a cat and a good job, and her eye on a charming prince called Ryan…
But Prince Ryan wasn’t putting out, and Brylee was upset.
So she set out to conquer his heart with her love, persistence, and her amazing culinary talent.
Hopefully without burning the kitchen down.
Not again…
Chapter One
Crazy Cookie
Brylee
It’s a stake-out.
Totally secret undercover operation.
It’s on, baby.
“Here he comes!” Simone whisper-shouts to be heard over the din of the packed gym, slowing the pace of her stationary bike.
“Where?” I crane my neck to see.
We’ve been waiting for three hours for him to come in. Had to swap gyms, in fact, from my usual small corner gym to this large and loud one, just for that.
He’s worth it.
Ryan walks between the machines, a duffel bag thrown over one strong shoulder, fair hair tucked behind his ears, a light swagger in his step that makes my mind go blank.
Aaaand….he doesn’t notice me.
Not that it’s anything new. He never does.
Simone leans sideways on her bike until I’m afraid she’ll topple over, her pink, puffy pigtails sticking up like Minnie Mouse’s ears. “Wow. That’s a great ass.”
Yeah. “He’s perfect,” I say dreamily.
What? He totally is.
Where to start? Beautiful face, leaf-green eyes, soft, floppy hair that glints like pale gold, wide shoulders. And Simone is right, his exercise leggings cling to muscular legs and an ass you can bounce quarters off of, and that broad back narrowing down to slim hips looks made for red nails to scratch down on.
Not my nails, for the record. Mine are currently a bright pink, like Simone’s hair.
Also, I have no experience with scratching my nails down anything, except maybe behind my cat’s ears.
Doesn’t count.
“Oh, oh. Jacket removal alert!” Simone seems just as excited about seeing Ryan as I am. “Look at that.”
I am looking. This is what I came here for.
And to set in motion Phase One of my new secret plan, of course. Plan “Conquer Ryan Prince.”
Which is his name, by the way. His given name. I happened to see it on an envelope on his desk once, at the company where we work together.
Ryan Prince Dawson.
Isn’t it perfect? The whole set-up. He has a good job, comes from a good family with a father in the military, no siblings to vie for his attention, and he’s oh so sexy…
“Didn’t I tell you?” I lick my lips and reach for my water bottle. “Score.”
So this is the gym he frequents. Following him the other day wasn’t easy while driving and in disguise—those sunglasses were too big and kept getting fogged up—but I was sure I saw him enter here.
“So how come he isn’t dating anyone?” Simone wipes her face on her small red towel. “A catch like him has to have lines of women waiting patiently for a chance to jump his bones.”
That’s a good question, one I’ve kind of avoided, because… because it’s fate, right? We’re meant to be together. That’s why he’s single. That’s why he’s so hard to get.
It takes someone like me, with my perseverance and optimism to wear him down.
And here I am. Ready to go, dressed in my favorite rainbow unicorn leggings, low-cut top, AND my sparkly tiara headband.
Be very afraid, Ryan Prince. I’m stoked and ready to go.
Time to launch the first offensive.
***
The first offensive is easy. Simple. After all, it’s only a test. I’m just feeling out the terrain.
Okay, not sure that’s a military term, but whatevs. I’m not the one with the parents in the military. I’m sure there’s a word though, what was it…?
Ah, yes. Reconnaissance.
With a wink at Simone, I get up from my bike and grab my towel, then make my way toward him.
This is a huge gym, recently renovated, the machines gleaming, the people dressed in trendy
exercise clothes, their MP3 players flashing as they move. Strong, lithe bodies, with barely any hint of sweat.
Self-consciously I adjust my top. It’s like everyone passed an exam to enter. It makes me wonder how Simone and I made the cut.
Not that I don’t take care of my body. I sure do, and I even drag my best friend Candy along when she’s not too busy having wild sex with her two boyfriends.
Two. Boyfriends. Did you catch that?
Total overkill if you ask me. And still no idea how she did it. I’ve been trying to get one guy—Ryan—for the past year, one—and still no dice.
It doesn’t matter. It will be worth it in the end. Not everyone gets their soulmate on the first try.
Or the hundredth, for that matter. Hundred-and-twenty-fifth to be precise. Hey, it’s a good number. These things take work.
And I do work it as I approach Ryan, as Simone advised me to do after watching Pretty Woman, swinging my hips and lifting my chin, letting my ponytail swish against my back.
He’s getting ready to start, draping his manly black towel on the seat of a rowing machine and… whoa.
Red alert. His T-shirt molds to an impressively sculpted chest and set of shoulders, his corded arms in full display, a picture straight out of Men’s Health magazine.
Holy guacamole.
Woo.
But of course I shouldn’t be shocked. I chose him. He’s everything a man should be. He just has to see I am the girl for him.
That’s why he’s single. He’s been waiting for me all along.
Finding my stride, I strut my stuff to the other end of the gym and turn back. I lift my towel, ready to let it fall in a classic move. Hey, it works in books and movies all the time.
Throw something. Walk away. Have handsome man run after you with it.
Candy did say I should have a man running after me rather than the other way round. Wait until I tell her of my plans.
Elegantly, smoothly, I drop my towel in front of his machine as I walk on by…
But my foot catches on something, and I trip, crashing into a guy crossing over to the weights area. He stumbles backward, and I grab fistfuls of his chest hair to keep from falling.
“Easy,” he grunts, steadying me. “You okay?”
I gasp something that doesn’t qualify as a word, getting my feet under me. Straightening, I realize my tiara headband has slipped over my forehead, my ponytail somehow got tangled in it, and that my low-cut top has slipped even lower, almost flashing my boobs to everyone present.
And worse still… when I look up, trying desperately to cover my boobs and untangle my ginger curls from the glittery bandana, I realize I finally got Ryan’s attention. At long last, he’s staring at me.
Now, of all times.
Then he snorts, a dismissive sound, and turns away once more.
Jesus on a pony.
Okay, fine. I’m declaring the first offensive a failure. I lift my chin, still tugging on my hair, and pretend my cheeks aren’t flushed red.
Everything is as planned. I’m getting a feel for things.
Figuratively.
Just watch. My next move will knock your socks off.
***
“What about that other guy?” Simone asks when I return to my machine, frazzled and in deep planning mode, refusing to think of his derisive snort and my total and spectacular failure.
Just a minor setback.
“What other guy?” I pretend not to know who she’s talking about.
“You know. The dark-haired one with the gray eyes. A cousin of one of Candy’s boyfriends that we met at the party they threw the other day?”
I’ve done my best not to think of Riddick Connors. He’s not part of my plan.
No matter how pretty he is.
“So what happened back there?” Simone doesn’t seem interested in continuing her work out. She just sits there, staring at me.
“Didn’t you see?”
“You fell.” She grabs her bottle of water and takes a sip, her chocolate eyes flicking to my face. “Did he look at you?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
Simone nods, as if what I’ve said makes perfect sense. “Riddick doesn’t stand a chance, does he?”
Does he?
I don’t know.
Wait, I do know. No matter how pretty his gray eyes are, his dimpled smile, his powerful physique, I’m not giving up a year of hard work for a smile from Riddick.
No way. He’s not who I want. He’ll never be my prince. I want Ryan and there can be no other.
Chapter Two
Devil’s Work Cake
Riddick
Snowflakes cascade off my jacket sleeve as I lift my hand to ring my cousin Jethro’s doorbell.
But I don’t. I hesitate. He said on the phone to come over, and it made sense at the time to head on here instead of the small apartment I call home. After all, my brother Xavier isn’t there, and that reminds me of all the things I’d rather forget.
I shove my too-long hair out of my eyes.
Dammit, I should leave. Why unload my troubles on poor Jet again? He’s barely gotten his feet under him. He’s happy. He’s spending time with his lovers, Candy and Joel, and shouldn’t have to listen to me whine every time something happens.
I need to fix this. On my own. Somehow. I just need to talk to Xavier. He used to listen to me.
Taking a deep breath, I turn away from the door and shove my hands into the pockets of my thin jacket.
I’ll figure something out.
But the door behind me swings open before I take a step away. “Hey, Rid, it’s you. I thought I heard something.”
“Heard what?” I ask, irrationally irritated as I turn back around to face my cousin. “I didn’t ring, didn’t knock, didn’t make any noise.”
He cocks his head to the side, those dark eyes studying me intently. “That’s right. Why didn’t you?”
“Jet…”
“You said you weren’t far. I was getting worried. I was going out to go find you.”
“There are cell phones for that. What were you gonna do, search the streets in the snow?”
He chuckles as if I cracked a joke and drags me inside the warmth of the apartment. I’m damn cold, so I forget my objections and resolutions and let him haul me to the soft, well-worn sofa and plunk me down on the cushions.
I can’t feel my face. Or my hands. Jeez.
“Let me grab you a beer,” Jet says, and takes my silence as agreement because he steps into the kitchen, steps back out and hands me an open bottle.
I take it and sip without much thinking. I’m thirsty, so I gulp half of it down in one go.
“So…” Jet sits beside me and turns down the sound of the TV. I hadn’t even noticed it was on.
The hell, Rid. Focus.
“Where are Joel and Candy?” I ask.
I’m stalling. Yeah, I’m aware.
“They’ll be back soon.”
I nod, drink some more beer. It sloshes around in my empty stomach. “Okay.”
“What’s up? Are you okay, man?”
“I’m fine.” An automatic response. Come to think of it, two more people asked me the same today. I probably look like shit.
Just like I feel.
“And Xavier?”
I draw a sharp breath. “I don’t fucking know. He’s taken off.”
“Taken off where?”
“A friend’s house, he said.”
Jet curses. “You didn’t stop him?”
“How can I, Jet? He left while I was out working, left me a goddamn note. He’s eighteen now. I can’t do a thing.”
And that’s the least of my worries.
“Okay.” Jet chews on that. “True. As long as he’s okay, then he has the right to do his own thing.”
Whatever his own thing is. If only Jet knew…
I finish my beer and put the bottle carefully down on the coffee table. “I should get going.”
“The hell you should.” Je
t pushes me back down when I start getting up, frowning. “You only just got here, and still haven’t told me why you sounded so freaked out on the phone. Was it about Xavier?”
“Yeah.” The room is spinning in slow circles. Fuck, how can I be wasted with just one beer? “Yeah, it was about Xavier.”
But now, sitting in this cozy little living room, with Joel and Candy about to walk through the door, I can’t remember why I thought it was a good idea come talk to Jet.
It’s not like I can tell him that Xavier found my stash and took all my money before leaving. All the money I had saved for the rent and then some.
A parting gift. Or is it a parting shot? At me, as if I’m the bad guy in this story. As if I ever wronged him.
Fuck. Did I?
I wish I hadn’t called Jet in the first place.
“Rid.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Look…I’ll get us more beer.”
It’s probably the mother of all bad ideas, but the thought of getting back out in the cold, of returning to my cold apartment, and my worry about Xavier keep me in my seat as he returns. Taking the bottle, I salute him and drink up.
I’m getting shitfaced.
Maybe that’s what I need. I’ll relax. See a better side to things. See a way out. I just don’t wanna talk about it. Don’t wanna talk, period.
Man, I’m dying for a smoke, but see previous point about not moving my ass from this spot. Not yet. It’s warm, comfortable, and there’s a sense of safety. Jet is family.
In this moment, everything is all right.
“Tell me about your job,” I prompt, settling back against the cushions, my jacket dripping melted snow on the couch, icy rivulets dribbling from my hair down my neck. “At that bookstore.”
“You’re changing the topic,” Jet says mildly, kicking back, too, chugging down his beer. His eyes are half-shut. “Work is fine. The bookstore is nice. The boss is good people. Why? Thinking of changing jobs?”
“Ha.” I chuckle at the idea. “How’s the pay?”
“Pay’s fine. But I don’t know if Donna’s looking for more employees.”
“Yeah.” I let my head drop back. “Of course not.”
“Rid. Why don’t you say what’s on your mind?”
Too many fucking things are on my mind. “I need a second job.”
