Dirty Princes: A Standalone MMF Romantic Comedy

by Jo Raven

  No chance in hell. And she doesn’t get it. Maybe she’s taken it personally. Or as a challenge, a mission to wear me down with subtle hints and suggestions.

  I’m not getting involved with anyone. And that’s that.

  Besides, I’m not the catch she thinks I am. I’m not what everyone sees: the son of General Dawson, a guy with no criminal record, a good job and excellent prospects.

  If only she knew…

  ***

  Right before I die of boredom, the meeting ends, and I grab my papers to go. Maria, the investment performance manager, tries to corner me about new projects she’s been babbling about, but if she starts I’ll be stuck here for an hour, minimum.

  I make my escape and skulk down the corridor like a thief.

  Not fast enough, though. Maria catches up with me and starts chatting about a new client in her serious, quiet voice.

  We stop at the reception desk, and I force myself to listen because this is information I’ll need later, even though a headache is pounding inside my skull.

  Movement catches my attention, and I frown when someone bumps into me with a breathy little gasp.

  “Oh gosh, sorry, I totally didn’t notice you,” a familiar female voice says, and my brows rise to my hairline.

  It’s Brylee.

  Of course it is.

  “I didn’t even see you standing there. Also, I didn’t recognize you from behind. Or the side. Just so you know.”

  Right. “You didn’t see me at all.”

  “That’s right.”

  I snort.

  She pouts. Her curls are loose on her shoulders, and she’s dressed in conservative office wear, but her white satiny shirt stretches over her boobs, a dark hint of cleavage where the top three buttons have come undone, and her pencil skirt hugs some serious curves and shows off her long legs.

  Not that I never noticed before. But it hits me, like every time, how sexy she is. Pretty, and elegant like a cat, her golden eyes capturing mine as I look back up.

  She walks away with a little sniff that makes me snicker, and I’m still laughing as I return to my office after the impromptu briefing is over.

  This girl… She’s something.

  Chapter Four

  Vanilla Princess Tart

  Brylee

  My plan is officially in motion.

  Stage One: Ignoring Ryan While Making Him Aware Of Me.

  Check and check.

  Of course, repetition is the key. He won’t act immediately. I’m aware of that. I’ll wear him down slowly.

  He’s worth the wait.

  My plan is solid. Marketing strategy, baby. Hey, I was top of my class, a valedictorian. A little socially awkward at times, true, but I know my stuff. I know what I want, and I work hard to get it.

  Ryan, here I come.

  And this day is far from over.

  I shoot Candy a text message to make sure my accomplice will be in place for Phase Two: Gym.

  She replies she will be there. Asks why we’ve changed gyms.

  I consider a devil emoji, then an angel one. I settle for a hopping bunny. Let her make of it what she will.

  Checking myself in my small makeup mirror, making sure my lipstick hasn’t smeared and my hair isn’t sticking out in the odd direction, I make my way to my supervisor’s office to discuss a few matters.

  Of course I pass outside Ryan’s office on my way. I glance inside quickly through the open door, and my heart skips a beat. There he is, typing at his keyboard, gaze fixed on the computer screen.

  Those bright green eyes, that golden hair, that square jaw… Sigh. I could look at him all day.

  Then he glances up, as if sensing me there, and I’m caught like a deer in headlights. My pulse hums in my ears, at the base of my throat. My mouth goes dry.

  He’s so handsome it’s unreal.

  And I’m probably drooling.

  “May I help you?” he asks, the deep timbre of his voice lifting the fine hairs on my arms. A light shadow of stubble covers his jaw, and he looks just as good in a suit as he did in the tight T-shirt he wore at the gym the other day.

  “Oh no.” I shake my head, force myself to look away. “I, um. I thought it was my office.”

  “You can’t find your own office?”

  “Of course I can,” I snap, offended, and look back at him. Oops, mistake. Now I can’t remember what I wanted to say. “The doors. The doors are similar.”

  “The doors are all open,” he says, way too reasonably.

  “Exactly. And therefore any office could be my office.” I’m warming to my topic. “How could I know this was yours?”

  He’s studying me with those bright eyes. “Well, you know now.”

  Is this a hint?

  “You can close it behind you, if you like,” he goes on, his low voice hypnotic. “The door. As you leave.”

  It’s not until I’ve pulled the door closed and I’m standing outside his office that my mind clears.

  It had been a hint, all right.

  Fudge.

  I shake my fist at his door. “This round isn’t over yet.”

  I have secret weapons.

  Adjusting my boobs in my bra, I turn away and stalk off, my chin held high.

  Never give up. That’s my mantra. If I survived my childhood, it’s for a reason, and since then I decided the only way to go is keep fighting.

  Ready for Phase Two.

  ***

  “So why the new gym?” Candy asks, unzipping her hoodie and shrugging it off. She has a hickey on her neck. Not an unusual sight, these days.

  “I heard about it and thought to check it out. It’s much bigger than the one we used to go to.”

  “And the music louder,” she grumbles.

  “Why so irritated? The boys didn’t let you sleep last night? Too much sex?”

  I ask the question lightly, but she blushes like a stop sign.

  Oh.

  “I was meaning to ask you…” I pull my hair up in a ponytail and add glittery unicorn hairpins to contain the wisps trying to escape. “How does a dildo get stuck?”

  “What?” Her eyes have gone round. “Stuck where?”

  “Remember Simone?”

  “Yes?”

  “She said it happened to her.”

  Candy licks her lips, glances around us, at two girls getting dressed at the other end of the room. She looks a little nervous.

  I wonder why.

  “What kind of dildo did she use? There are some really large ones, and…” She sighs. “What the hell did she do?”

  “She managed to take it out in the end,” I reassure her. “But she’s sworn off dildos, like, forever. And you know I bought one for myself, but I’ve hesitated to use it because of—”

  “Can’t we talk about this at home?” She shoots the two girls another look. They are staring at us.

  Huh.

  “Sure. In any case, I’m not sure I’ll use it. The dildo, I mean. I am saving myself for Ryan. But Simone mentioned using it at the back—”

  “Bry. Let’s go.” Candy grabs my arm and hauls me out of the locker room, her expression stormy.

  Uh-oh. “What did I say?”

  “I’ve had enough embarrassing conversations in front of people to last a lifetime. Come home with me later, if you want to talk about this. Hell, you can ask Jet and Joel if you like. I’ll pretend I’m not listening.”

  I laugh. “How can you be such a prude? You’re engaged to two hotties who won’t let you sleep all night. I’m only asking you about dildos, and you turn red like a tomato.”

  “Maybe I don’t want the whole world to know everything about my sex life, did you think about that? Something called privacy?”

  “Pff.” I drape my towel over the seat of my bike. “It’s overrated.”

  “My privacy, Bry. It’s not overrated if it’s important to me.”

  Shaking my head, I set the speed and grab the handles of my bike. I like exercising, getting into the rhythm, feel
ing my muscles work. “Fine, fine. I’ll ask your boyfriends.”

  She mutters something I don’t catch as she sets her own bike to a low speed and starts pedaling.

  “So…I need your help,” I say.

  She makes another unintelligible sound. Then, “What now?”

  “Ryan.”

  “What about Mr. Douchebag? Don’t tell me you asked him out again.”

  “Oh no.” I shake my head for emphasis. “I’ve been ignoring him for the past few days.”

  She brightens. “Good!”

  “Ignoring him very pointedly,” I go on. “I don’t want him missing that. It’s very important he knows I’m not paying attention to him.”

  Her eyes narrow. “That sounds suspicious. What did you want my help with, then?”

  “Well, it’s not always easy to ignore someone on your own, you know?” I’m practically bouncing on my bike with excitement now. “It’s easier when there’s someone with you to ignore him with. If you see what I mean.”

  “God, no. Don’t tell me…?” She scans the space filled with machines and sweaty people. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

  “Not yet. He’s about to arrive.”

  “You know his schedule?”

  “Sure. It’s easy. He’s like clockwork, always on time.”

  “And you have his whole work and free-time schedule handy, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  Not to brag, but I’ve done my homework. I know everything about him. Well, as much as his presence on social media, his resume and office gossip coughed up.

  It will have to do.

  Right on time, the automatic doors of the gym open and close, admitting a tall, broad-shouldered hunk, his hair shining gold in the fluorescent overhead lamps.

  I straighten on my bike. “Target in sight,” I hiss at Candy. “Three o’clock.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “He’s here.”

  “Oh God.” She doesn’t sound excited. More like… resigned.

  Strange.

  “Let him change and choose a machine, and then we make our move.”

  “What move?” Candy mutters, mouth a tight line.

  “You’ll see.”

  ***

  “Slow down. Here is a good spot.”

  “Here?” Candy can’t quite manage stage-whispering, and I wince.

  “Yes.”

  We’re a few feet away from Ryan’s machine, where he’s lifting weights, muscles rolling and shifting in his chest and arms, his skin gleaming with sweat. A drop is rolling down his temple, over his corded neck, into—

  “Bry.”

  “Huh?”

  “Concentrate. What the hell are we doing?”

  I hand her the bottle of Sprite I grabbed from the vending machine earlier. “Open it.”

  She rolls her eyes. “And?”

  “And spill some on me.”

  “You serious right now?” Her faux-whisper is more like a shout now.

  “Yes. Splash me a bit, and I’ll back up until I crash into his machine. Then we will both pretend we didn’t notice him.”

  Another eye roll, more exaggerated this time. “Are we back at school?”

  I consider this. “Are we? God, I hope not!”

  High school was terrible. I had braces and pimples and no boobs.

  “Bry…”

  “Just do it, okay? I have this whole thing planned. It will be perfect.”

  With a small sigh, she starts unscrewing the lid off the bottle as I prepare myself mentally, calculating how many steps back I should take.

  But I’m not prepared for the frigging geyser that hits me square in the eye, startling a tiny scream from me. The Sprite splatters down my front, soaking through my top and leggings, in an icy shocking wave.

  Holy shit.

  Involuntarily, I stumble backward until someone shouts a warning, and I stop, blinking sweet soft drink from my lashes.

  I lick my lips. Ugh, I don’t even like Sprite. I’m a Coke baby, through and through.

  I shake my fist at Candy. “Why did you do that?” I demand.

  She looks like she’s trying not to laugh. “Isn’t that what you told me to do?”

  “I said splash me a little, not throw the bottle at me.”

  “I didn’t throw the bottle! It’s the gas. Must be from when it fell inside the vending machine.”

  Why didn’t I calculate this in my original plan parameters? Darn.

  I’m standing there, dripping, still in shock, when I find a pair of green eyes on me. Ryan’s brows have shot up to his hairline.

  Holy crapola. Seriously? Again?

  “I didn’t see you,” I blurt out.

  “I realize that.” He nods at my sticky, wet hand that’s resting on his machine.

  Now why does that sound so dirty?

  “Or your machine,” I say.

  “Right.” There’s a sexy, amused smirk on his face as he takes in the mess that is my appearance, the appearance I worked so hard before coming to the gym to perfect. I bet my mascara is running down my cheeks.

  “I just happen to like this gym. A lot. I hadn’t realized you were a member, too,” I go on, needing to emphasize my meaning.

  “For the past two years, yes.”

  “No way I could have known that. In any case, I’m not here for you.”

  He dips his head and chuckles. God, that’s a rich chocolate sound. It trickles thickly over my senses. “Girl… you’re killing me.”

  Is that a good thing? “It’s Brylee.”

  “I know.”

  He does?

  His gaze slides down my soaked top, and he tilts his head to the side. His eyes narrow and seem to go darker.

  No idea why my breath catches in my throat.

  Then Candy laughs, a tinkly sound. “Come on, Bry. Let’s go ignore this unknown guy someplace else. You should change clothes.”

  “My name’s Ryan,” he says, and I blink stupidly at him.

  God, I know.

  I know your name, your family name, your address and your obsession with healthy food. I know who your father is, though not your mother, but I do know about your cousins and your habit of smelling other people’s coffee at the vending machine while you never buy your own.

  I know you haven’t dated a single girl—or boy—for years, if the wagging tongues at the office are to be trusted. Oh, you’ve slept with a few, just for one night, never returning to their beds.

  I know you, Ryan Prince Dawson.

  But I can’t seem to get my mouth to work, and Candy hauls me away before I find the words to tell him anything.

  Just as well. It would have ruined the plan.

  I’m ignoring him, remember? And if I ever heard his name, it has long been erased from my memory.

  It’s a tough plan, but somebody’s got to go through with it. Someone has to show him what he’s missing, and well, eventually make him a good wife.

  Might as well be me.

  As soon as I wash off the stickiness from my face.

  ***

  “When will you give up?” Candy mutters as we change, and I wash myself as best as possible at the sink of the locker room.

  Is that a trick question?

  “He was laughing, Bry.”

  “He’s too tense,” I say stubbornly. “He needs to laugh more.”

  So there.

  And now that I’ve said it, I realize it might even be true.

  “Bry…”

  “I’m thinking of getting my nipples pierced,” I say.

  Candy splutters. “What? Why?”

  I shrug. “It sounds sexy. Simone had hers done last week.”

  Candy gapes at me.

  What?

  “Simone? The shy, I’m-up-for-anything pink cloud?”

  What’s her point? “Simone, yes.”

  “And…” Candy swallows, her eyes huge. “What does she say? Is it worth it?”

  “Ah. Giving it some thought, are we?” I wink at
Candy in the mirror as I wash the last of the mascara from my cheeks. “Think your boys might like that?”

  Again that deep crimson blush that screams YES.

  “Anyway, I thought it sounded cool. She said it really hurt, though, so I’m not sure.”

  I cup my wet boobs protectively.

  Candy shakes her head. She seems to be doing that an awful lot lately. Who knows why. “Are you coming home with me, then?”

  “Not sure.” I pull off my top and pull on my hoodie. “I’d rather go wash this stuff off properly. It’s gotten in my hair.”

  “Riddick might be there,” Candy says casually, and I spin around to look at her.

  “Really?”

  She snickers. “Nah, I don’t think so, but you should see your face. You like that boy, admit it.”

  “He’s good-looking,” I admit grudgingly.

  “He seems like a nice guy. Jet says so.”

  Yeah, but nobody seems to get it. He’s not Ryan, and although his name also starts with an R, that’s where the similarities stop.

  “You sure you don’t want to come over?”

  “Not today.” I make a quick mental To-Do list for tomorrow. “I have a few things to take care of.”

  My crown is broken, and my favorite princess dress needs repair.

  It may still be Monday, but the end of the week is right around the corner, and I’ll need to be a proper princess by then, or else.

  Chapter Five

  Hot Balls

  Riddick

  “Riddick! If I knew you’d come, I’d have told Brylee,” Candy says, making a sad face.

  “What makes you think she’d care?” I’m basically wondering out loud, but Candy cuts me off before I say more.

  “She likes you. A lot. I can tell.”

  I shrug. “She wants this Ryan guy.”

  “She thinks she does. She has this fairytale planned out in her head, with a prince and castle and a carriage drawn by white horses.”

  My brows lift. “Really?”

  “Well…Maybe minus the carriage. I don’t know.”

  “Wow. She really is a princess, huh?”

  And now I’m getting images of her in a diamond choker and nothing else as I sink into her, my hand tugging on it, making her choke a little as she—

  “Jet is telling me you’re looking for a new job,” Candy says, cutting through my filthy thoughts with a bang. “What kind of job? I could ask around.”