by Vivian Wood
I suck in a breath.
“That was part of it, yes.”
“That what about us stuff, where will we be next year, all that. It was some kind of test, right? And I failed?” he asks.
He’s still not looking at me, glaring off into the distance instead.
“Rex.”
He slides his gaze over to me.
“What, Kit?”
“I had a lot going on back then, more than you can know. Some of my leaving was because my future… our future, together… was so uncertain. But a lot of it was just… you know, my father died, I was leaving school. It was a weird time for me.”
He doesn’t respond.
“Rex…” I start again.
“You don’t get to tell me not to be angry,” he says, setting his glass on the table and turning to stare me down. “You’re the one who left.”
“And you couldn’t even tell me you wanted to stay together!” I say, my voice rising. “You were as worried about the Saville scandal as anyone, Rex. Don’t try to deny it.”
“I said we might have to date in secret,” he says, his tone flat.
“You said you were going to meet other girls! You were more worried about your stupid band than about whether we’d be together!” I hurl at him.
I realize that we’re only inches apart now. Rex seems to realize it at the same time, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
“Rex—” I say, but it’s too late.
His hand wraps around the back of my neck, his thumb brushing my jaw. He kisses me, hard and long.
I know it’s wrong. I know we can’t have sex, that I can’t give Rex what he wants.
And yet… I melt against him, sighing into his kiss. My lips part for him, our tongues clash and dance.
Rex grabs me and drags me close so I straddle his lap. My hands are in his hair, nails raking his neck and shoulders. We’re breathing hard, starting to grind against each other, our shared hunger combusting and threatening to burn us both alive.
He shocks me by standing up with me in his arms, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me inside, wine forgotten, and doesn’t stop until I land on his bed.
Whoa… this is moving pretty fast, I think, but my body isn’t cooperating.
Rex is stripping his clothes and then mine, until we’re down to his boxer briefs and my white lace panties. He stops and looks down at me.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he says, seeming awed.
Me, I can only stare at him. He’s nothing but hewn muscle covered in intricate tattoos, every inch of him sculpted as if he’s made for sin. If he was irresistible to me five years ago, right now I’m just lost, looking at him.
Then Rex is on me, kissing me, cupping my breasts.
“Mmm, I missed these,” he says with a smirk as he takes one of my nipples in my mouth.
My back arches, my hips press against him, insistent. Hungry.
The feel of his tongue and teeth on my sensitive peak has me wild, out of my mind, my body so hot and tense that I think I might die from it. He rolls us so I’m on top of him, my knees squeezing his hips.
“God damn,” he says, pulling my face down to his so he can take my mouth again.
A little voice in the back of my head tells me I’m being unfair. We can’t do… everything.
“We can’t have intercourse,” I say when I manage to break the kiss.
Rex freezes for a moment, staring at me in confusion.
“Is that right?” he asks slowly, sliding a hand over my bare hip.
“Yes,” I say, biting my lip.
“Kitten, I don’t understand you,” he admits.
“We just… can’t. No real sex.”
He shakes his head and chuckles.
“I bet I can make you sing a different tune,” he says.
“Rex…”
Then I’m on my back, and he’s kissing his way down my stomach, tugging my panties down my legs.
He’s been warned, is all I can think.
“Ach, that’s what I thought,” he says when he parts my thighs. “You’re so wet and ready for me, Kit.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he leans down and presses his lips to my clit. My clever words are forgotten, and I moan loudly instead.
Rex makes a kind of mmmmm sound against me and I nearly shoot off the bed, it feels so damn good. My fingers knot in his hair as his tongue does its magic, heating my blood and making my whole body tingle.
He’s incredible at this.
Before he can push me past the point of no return, I do the fair thing and push him away. I haven’t even seen a cock since his, and suddenly I don’t want to waste this moment.
I want to taste him.
“On your back,” I say, trying not to laugh at the way he practically rips his boxers in his enthusiasm getting them off.
He sprawls out on the bed, staring up at me boldly as he takes his cock in his hand and I have to try not to look shocked.
“Was it always so big?” I ask. “How did we ever make that work?”
When Rex laughs, his abs ripple. I lick my lips, and he goes somber again.
I take his cock in my hand, giving it a tentative stroke, appreciating how long and thick he is. I take to my work with gusto, using my tongue and mouth on him, working my hand over the base until he’s groaning and thrusting.
Losing control.
I love every second of it, his salty taste and the way he gives himself up to me, whispering dirty things to me all the while.
Fuck, Kit. Your mouth feels so fucking good.
I want to make you feel like this. Fuck.
I can’t stop thinking about you, sweetheart. I think about your hot, tight little pussy. I’m hard all the fucking time, every time I look at you.
God damn, I want to fuck you so bad. I want to make you feel good…
I want it, all of it, but…
I don’t stop when he tries to pull me away. I suck and stroke him harder and faster until he comes with a shout of Fuck, Kit! and then collapses back on the bed. I grin down at him as he lies there, trying to catch his breath.
“Damn,” he says. “That was almost as good as the real thing.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m going to bed.”
When I turn to crawl off the bed, though, he catches me by the ankle.
“I don’t think so,” he says, his voice turning to a command. “Don’t move.”
He gets up and trots out of the room, leaving me naked and confused on his bed. When he returns, my jaw drops.
He’s holding the pink vibrator that I keep tucked deep in one of my suitcases, a big smirk on his face.
“Rex! That’s private!” I hiss.
He shrugs and glances at it.
“I’m nosy. I snooped. Also, I mean…” He holds it at his waist, clearly comparing it with the size his own dick. “You can do better, Kitten.”
I make an outraged noise, and he just grins, climbing onto the bed and corralling me.
“Where were we?” he asks.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” I huff.
“I would think it’s obvious. I’m going to suck your clit and fuck you with your own dildo until you come all over my face.”
I’ve got no words for that. Rex doesn’t care, of course. He’s already nibbling on my breast, heating my oversensitive flesh as he trails the vibrator up and down my inner thigh.
And because it’s Rex, he quickly overwhelms my shyness. He bites my nipples and my neck, brushes his fingers against the top of my mound, and works his way down, down…
Pretty soon his lips are sealed over my clit, making me cry out. I’m so hot for him, so wet, so fucking needy. I can’t resist. At this point I would do anything to soothe this ache he’s created deep in my body.
When I start getting close, tensing and rocking my hips, he pulls back. I make a frustrated sound and he starts placing wet kisses against my inner thigh.
“Patience, love,” he says. “Just
close your eyes and relax. I’m going to make you feel so good, I promise.”
And then he’s pushing the tip of the toy against my entrance. I can’t help it, I cry out and claw at the mattress.
“That’s it, honey,” he says. Inch by slow inch, he slides it inside me, stretching and filling me.
Then his lips find my clit again, his tongue swirling in circles. He starts pumping the toy in and out of me, quick and hard, and I think I might die if I don’t come.
“I’m so close,” I whisper. Tears prick my eyes, the sensations are so intense.
Rex drags me closer and closer to the edge, and yet I can’t let go.
“Please, please!” I beg him.
Then he scrapes his teeth over my clit, just the right amount of pressure, and I explode. I come so hard that I can’t see, so hard that I can feel hot liquid gushing from my entrance as I release a full-throated scream.
It goes on and on, me clenching and rocking. I know nothing, suspended in pleasure, feeling nothing beyond my own endless orgasm. Rex withdraws the toy from my body at last, and I’m left with the ripples of it, floating.
And then, slowly, I come back down to earth. I start to shake, just from the sheer intensity of the experience. Rex stretches out, pulling me close and kissing my lips.
“See what you’ve been missing?” he whispers against my lips.
I don’t know what happens, exactly. I’m too raw, too empty. Too close to him, in a lot of ways.
This can’t be happening. I can’t go through this again, I think.
I start to cry. Not just tears filling my eyes, but full-out sobs start to wrack my body. Hormones, history… or maybe I’m just crazy.
“Hey. Hey, oh no,” Rex says, trying to pull me into his arms.
“Stop,” I say, scrambling to get out the bed.
“Kitten, wait—”
“Don’t CALL me that!” I shout, wiping at my face. “Just… just stay away. You’re no good for me, Rex. I won’t go through all of that again, not even for you!”
I flee then, too cowardly to even look at him.
I said too much, I know that. But… I had to stop this, this thing blooming between us.
I had to.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself as I rock myself to sleep, alone in my own bed.
10
Rex
Last night was a mistake. You know that, right?
I can’t seem to get Kit’s words out of my head. It’s the only thing she said to me the morning after. The only thing I heard from her lips for days, actually.
Until today. Today, our presence is requested at a royal charity ball. Ergo, Kit is forced to spend time with me.
So I’m going to make the best of it. She’s making me miserable, leaving me with a fucking undying hard-on and a million questions.
And I’m nothing if not a petty bastard, so I’m gonna do my best to make her feel the same way I do: angry and horny as fuck.
So I valet my car at the front gate of the palace and get out to open her door, making sure I eye fuck the hell out of her as I help her out.
I don’t exactly have to force myself to stare, either. Kit’s wearing this clingy, floor-length red dress with a slit up the thigh on one side, her blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders in waves.
She looks fucking incredible, even without the heirloom diamond necklace and earrings that she’s wearing.
Let’s be honest, I’d think Katherine Saville looked hot wearing a damn trash bag.
She gives me this look, a kind of innocent but sultry thing. It almost makes me sad that we’re going into this masquerade ball, because she’s going to cover up those incredible storm-gray eyes of hers.
That said, that means no one else gets to see them, either. I can deal with that.
“Tie my mask on for me?” she asks as we pause at the foot of the white marble staircase that leads to the palace’s front doors. She hands me her mask, a thin strip of glittery silver paper.
I nod and she lifts it to her face, covering her from eyebrows to the delicate top arch of her lush red lips.
I reach around her and tie the mask’s white satin ribbons into a neat bow at the back of her head. Then I lift my own mask, plain black velvet cut just like Kit’s. She reaches up to tie mine without my asking.
I have this moment of weakness, of unreality really, where I can’t help but think: if we’d stayed together, this is what every day would be like.
Kit and I helping each other, me proudly leading her up into the palace on my arm. None of this bullshit about our past failures, none of these growing pains we’re feeling now, and none of the numerous restrictions that continue to keep us from being together.
All the shit we’re dealing with today, Kit’s mysterious troubles in the States, Asher’s death, our parents being engaged…
Most of it wouldn’t have happened if we’d just agreed to stay together through our first year of college.
As we enter the ballroom, making our way through the throngs of masked revelers, I see the chain of events in my head.
We agree to stay together in secret, until the Saville scandal has passed.
Kit doesn’t run away. We both go to Royal College together.
I don’t rebel in order to live out my angst.
Kit never meets Charles.
Asher doesn’t die.
Kit and I come out as a couple after a year or so, and our parents never consider dating.
We’re married with a kid on the way by now, and the royals can’t help but approve. Of me, but more especially of Kit, despite her family history.
Happily ever after?
The night drags for me. Countess Saville latches onto Kit immediately and draws her off to meet an endless line of eligible bachelors. My aunt Cecily has been assigned to the same task for me, probably by my grandmother.
The only bright spot is that my sister Camille arrives just after me, and keeps me company for as much time as she can without being rude to more important guests. She strolls in with her husband Bernard, dressed in a near-matronly blue gown.
“Jesus, Camille, you look like you’re going to a damn funeral. Thank god you got mom’s Snow White looks, or you’d be drab as a whore in church. I guess being a Princess helps, but…”
I shrug, as if she’s a hopeless case. Camille shoots me a look, telling me to cool it. I won’t, of course. I never do, it’s too much fun to rile her up.
“And the fact that I’m an Oxford Scholar, that doesn’t weigh into it, now?” she’s quick to fire back.
“Hey, I think we both know that you got the brains in the family,” I say, giving her a wink. “It must be difficult having such a handsome brother, though.”
“It’s difficult to make sentences of small enough words, you mean,” Camille whispers. “Now stop neglecting my husband, greet him properly. Minus the insults, I mean.”
“Bernard,” I say shaking his hand. “How’s the stock market these days?”
He laughs and shrugs; Bernard is short, dark, and shy where I’m tall, blond, and brash. He’s a shabby dresser, but he’s always got a smile on his face and he dotes on my sister. Every time he looks at her, his face lights up.
Hard to dislike a guy like that.
“And you,” I say, drawing Camille into my arms and giving her a showy hug, which makes her blush. Camille is even more quiet and private than her husband, has been shy since birth I think.
“Quit, now,” she says, pushing me off with an affectionate smile. “Don’t bring shame to the family name!”
The last is a joke, something my father has said to both of us hundreds of times. I think, in his mind, making the phrase rhyme would make it stick with us better. And maybe it did, but not at all in the way Prince Archie intended.
“So, speaking of that. Are you knocked up yet?” I ask.
When her face falls into a scowl, I elbow her in the ribs.
“Just kidding!” I say. “I hope you never have a baby, and
my line can take over Courtland.”
“You really are wretched,” she says, but I can see that she’s resisting a smile. “And like hell I’m going to let the future of our country rest in your hands. We can’t have our future Queen be some tramp you accidentally knocked up at a night club, can we?”
“Hey now,” I say, with mock seriousness. “Some of those night club tramps are perfectly lovely. You just have to get to know them.”
Camille snorts.
“How’s living with Katherine?” she asks, giving me a sly glance.
“Fine,” I say with a shrug. “She’s… okay.”
“I ran into her at the punch bowl, before I came over to talk to you,” Camille says. “She’s looking rather fit these days, isn’t she?”
“I hadn’t noticed,” I lie.
Camille cocks her head and considers me for a moment, the corners of her lips curling up.
“Don’t look at me like that!” I insist, brushing a non-existent bit of lint off my tie. “Otherwise I’ll start a rumor that you’re on birth control, trying not to give grandfather any heirs.”
“That would be cruel,” Camille says, her brows quirking. “Don’t attack me just because I said your new flatmate is fetching.”
“Don’t you have some royal ass to kiss somewhere in this room?” I ask her, rolling my eyes.
“I do, as a matter of fact. We’re going to continue this conversation, though. Mark my words,” my sister says. Then she drags Bernard off, and I’m lost in a gaggle of young socialites again.
There are a number of boring pre-wedding announcements and toasts made, and my father makes a huge show of putting the biggest chocolate diamond I’ve ever seen on Countess Saville’s finger, which pisses me off.
That ring came from my mother’s line, which means it’s entirely inappropriate for my father to bestow it on his future second wife. My hands clench as I recall my earlier line of thought.
If I’d locked Kit down at a young age, that ring would be on her finger right now. A violinist begins to play as I bemoan my choices, making my misery almost comical.
Then a six piece group begins to play big band music, and soon I’m twirling some barely-legal debutante around the dance floor. Inside I’m seething with anger. Outside, I’m cool and polite and present.
