The Royal Rogue

by Halle, Karina

  The floor shakes underneath me as I turn in time to see Snarf Snarf barrelling toward me, Henrik running after him and yelling.

  I don’t have time to react. I’m about to be run over by a pig.

  Then Orlando reaches over and grabs me by the waist. I cry out as he somehow manages to hoist me up in the air, my knees drawn up, as Snarf Snarf passes beneath me and gallops back toward the dining room.

  “You can thank me later,” he says, practically throwing me back on the ground before he runs a few strides and then leaps into the air, tackling Snarf Snarf before he’s about to run into the dining room.

  Chaos ensues.

  Orlando and Snarf Snarf roll over on the floor, bumping into the wall, and it’s just a mess of prince and pig, the squeals filling the air, the shouts and cries from the dinner party join in as they realize what’s happening.

  “Don’t hurt him!” I yell at Orlando, not wanting an injured pig on my hands, just in time for Snarf Snarf to open his mouth and chomp into Orlando’s forearm in defense.

  “Ah!” Orlando yells, but he doesn’t loosen his arm which is wrapped around Snarf Snarf’s chest. “This porky fucker bit me!”

  All of the Monaco royal family appears at the dining room doorway, looking down in shock as Orlando and Snarf Snarf battle for dominance. Henrik rushes past me holding a rope and leans down over the pig, slipping the rope around his head.

  “Come on Snarf Snarf!” Henrik yells, followed by a string of Danish expletives. Probably not the right decorum for the head butler, but considering he just roped the pig, he’s allowed. Besides, so far this evening it seems like anything goes and anything is currently going.

  Finally Henrik is able to pull Snarf Snarf up securely and Orlando lets go, rolling over on the ground and moaning. I’m more concerned about the pig than the prince, but so far Snarf Snarf seems fine. If anything, he looks a little proud and defiant, even as Henrik leads him away.

  Orlando is another deal. He’s sitting up on the floor, holding onto his forearm and wincing, his suit torn and covered in Snarf Snarf’s dirt.

  “Oh dear,” Maja says, looking through the gathering crowd. “Stella, you better sort him out.”

  Me again? I give her a contemptuous look but she’s already turning around and trying to convince the royals to go back to their dessert.

  “That was fucking wild, man,” Francis says, wide-eyed, before turning back to the room.

  Matilde looks at me. “Do you need any help?”

  I sigh and glance down at Orlando who is getting to his feet. “I’m fine,” he says.

  But he’s not fine. He looks wrecked and we need to make sure that Snarf Snarf didn’t do any real damage. I’ve never seen him bite before—I guess I never even thought that was a hazard—but since mobsters have a history of feeding people to pigs, I’m guessing they can do a lot of harm. I really hope that Aksel and Aurora don’t return here to find that Snarf Snarf has discovered an appetite for human flesh.

  “Come on,” I tell Orlando. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

  “I’m fine,” he says again, shaking out his arm but his expression is pained.

  “You don’t know where that pig’s been, and he’s at least torn through your suit jacket.” I gesture for him to follow me and he does so begrudgingly.

  We walk down the hall to a bathroom where I know Aurora keeps a spare first aid kit under the sink. I had to use it once when Anya got her face cut up during a snowball fight gone wrong.

  Once inside I get the kit out and place it on the countertop and gesture for Orlando to take off his jacket.

  “I’m telling you, I’m fine,” he says as he takes it off, and for a moment I’m distracted by the fit of his white shirt and the hint of tanned skin beneath the collar, before seeing the blood on his forearm.

  “Oh shit,” Orlando says, staring at his arm. “This is how I’m going to die, isn’t it?”

  I reach over and gently roll up the sleeve of his torn shirt.

  He sucks in his breath.

  “Sorry,” I tell him, before lifting it back to see the wound.

  It’s a bloody mess. It’s a good thing I can handle the sight of blood. I like to chalk it up to one of the superpowers of being a mother.

  “Just a flesh wound,” he says, though there’s a strain in his voice.

  “Let’s hope.”

  I bring him over to the sink and turn on the warm water, gently sticking his arm under it. I’m pressed up against his shoulder, one hand gripping him by his elbow. His muscles are taut and tense and he smells good. Like mint and something woodsy. I close my eyes for a second and tell myself to keep it together.

  The water washes away the blood and we can see the wound more clearly. It doesn’t look that bad, just a puncture wound from one of Snarf Snarf’s tusks. I think he could have done some major damage had he meant to.

  “Told you. Just a flesh wound,” he says, glancing at me over his shoulder. He gives me a wry smile. “I’ve had worse.”

  “You’ve been bitten by a pig before?” I ask him, dabbing a cloth onto the wound to stop the bleeding.

  “No, this is my first time for that,” he says.

  “Well, I’ll put some antibacterial lotion on it and bandage it up but you’re going to want a new shirt, and if it gets worse you’re going to need to go to the doctor tomorrow for antibiotics.”

  I reach for the antibiotic cream.

  “You’re welcome, by the way,” he says.

  My fist clenches and I nearly squeeze all the cream out of the tube. “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t know if you remember, but I saved you from a similar fate back there.”

  “Snarf Snarf only bit you because you tackled him.” I give him a steady look.

  “And I tackled him because that was the only way to stop him. Your staff is incompetent.”

  “First of all, they aren’t my staff,” I tell him, dabbing the cream on his wound, maybe a little too hard.

  “Ow.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What’s the second ‘of all?’ I’m curious to see where your argument is going. After all, had I not saved you, you would have been trampled. Had I not stopped that damn pig, he probably would have had a ball tearing up the dining room. I’m practically virtuous.”

  I snort. “You want a medal?”

  There’s a pause and I look up from dabbing the cream on him to see his eyes burning into mine. “I want a thank you.”

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Thank you, then.”

  “You owe me one.”

  Now I’m rolling my eyes. “Oh, of course I do. Dare I ask what I owe you?”

  “Let your hair down a little,” he says, and with his other hand he reaches over and takes the diamond clip out of my updo. My blonde hair spills down around my shoulders.

  I’m so taken aback by the gesture, the fact that his hand is now at the back of my neck, his palm warm against my skin, that I drop the tube. It tumbles into the sink.

  I turn to get it and his hand falls away.

  “That’s better,” he says. “This is probably the real you, isn’t it?”

  I clear my throat, feeling heat on my chest and cheeks. “I’m not sure you’d want to meet the real me.”

  “Why not?”

  I look away, busying myself by putting the tube of cream away and taking out the gauze and bandages. “There’s nothing interesting about her.”

  “You’re a princess, aren’t you?”

  I shoot him a dry look. “And you think that automatically makes someone interesting? You should know better than that. Though maybe you don’t, since your family has to be the oddest royal family I’ve ever met. Actually, oddest family, period. No offence.”

  “None taken. They are what they are. And you are what you are.”

  His blue eyes flit over my body and up to my face. This time it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. This time, I rather like the way he’s looking at me, like he’s trying to understand me. I c
an’t recall ever feeling that way before. It’s like no one bothers anymore.

  “You have an odd approach,” I say after a moment.

  “I’ve been told,” he says, watching me as I start to wrap the bandage around him. I twist around to get a better position, my ass pressing against the counter, and as a strand of hair falls in front of my face, he reaches over and pushes it back, his fingers trailing along my cheek as he tucks it behind my ear.

  What on earth is happening? Just finish bandaging him up and get out of here.

  But the words are slow in my mind. Everything else seems to expand, my senses heightened. I’m so very aware of the feel of his fingers on me, like shooting sparks, aware of his scent that makes the heat grow in my core, aware of the warmth of his body in this small space.

  I’m aware of his roaming eyes, which never waver in their intensity, only in their tone. Curious, compelled, humorous, cocky, lustful, and wanting, they’re constantly conveying something to me as they never leave my face and body.

  I secure the end of the bandage and try to find my voice. “All done,” I tell him quietly, afraid to meet his eyes.

  He takes his bandaged arm and puts it on one side of me, so that I’m bracketed against the sink, trapped between him. “But we’re not done,” he murmurs and I glance up at him. He licks his lips as he tilts his head and gives me a slow smile. “I think you know that, princess.”

  I gulp.

  What do you want with me?

  “I wouldn’t want to get the wrong impression,” I say carefully, bringing up his denial in the hallway, pre-pig collision.

  “Maybe I just like to play games,” he says. “Until I don’t. And I don’t want to play games anymore.”

  I blink at him, my breath hitching in my throat. “So what do you want?”

  “I think it’s quite obvious what I want,” he says, raising his hand to hold the tip of my chin, looking deep into my eyes. I feel completely captive, my heart pounding against my ribs, the counter pressing against my ass, the strength in his shoulders and arms as he keeps me locked in. “But the real question here is, what do you want?” He leans in, his lips just inches away from mine, pressing his thumb harder into my chin. “Not in life. Not in your future. What do you want right now?”

  Is this really happening?

  Am I going to tell him the truth?

  There’s a chance that I won’t even be able to put the truth into words.

  But it might be a chance worth taking.

  Chapter 3

  Stella

  What do I want?

  My throat feels thick as my eyes focus on Orlando’s lips. Wondering what it’s like to kiss them, to have them on my body. Knowing that I have the power to wonder no longer. I can make it happen or I can walk away and go back to the dinner party and the role I’ve been pretending to do.

  “I don’t know you,” I whisper.

  His lips curve into a soft smile. “What do you want, Your Highness?” he repeats.

  “I’m not sure I can explain with words,” I admit slowly, meeting his eyes. “I’m not even sure it’s a want. I think . . . I think it might be a need.”

  “I can work with that,” he says. “Do you need me to kiss you?” He lowers his mouth until his lips brush ever so briefly, ever so softly against mine. “Here? On your lips?”

  He then moves his head and buries it in my neck. His hot breath is causing my body to erupt in flames. “Or here.”

  His mouth very gently presses against my skin, not quite a kiss but enough to leave me yearning with no doubt in my mind what I really want and need.

  Him.

  I need him.

  This man who showed up into my life today and awoke something inside me. Not a want but a need. A need to feel special, to be desired. A need to be free of my roles and my life and everything that’s expected of me.

  A need to have a little fucking fun for once.

  “How about here?” he asks in a murmur, as his hand releases my chin and slowly trails down over my chest, to the edge of my dress. I hold my breath as he pulls the neckline of my gown away, exposing my breast. My nipple immediately hardens and I grip the corner of the counter until my knuckles turn white.

  He lowers his head and gently blows on my chest, the feeling causing a cascade of shivers to roll down my spine and for my legs to clench together in an aching want. I can practically feel my panties growing wet. I’m this close to begging him to kiss me, lick me, devour me.

  “Do you have a better idea now?” he asks, voice like silk, as he brings his face up to mine. I’m quite aware that I have one tit hanging out of my dress and I’m nearly panting with desire. “Or should I keep guessing?” He brings his hand to my breast and slowly brushes his thumb over my nipple. “Is it these fingers?”

  The circles he was making on the glass earlier are now swirling around my nipple, sending waves of pleasure throughout my body, both intoxicating and coupled with urgency.

  His touch is incredible.

  “Or is it my cock?” he says, taking my hand and placing it on his crotch. His dick is hot even though his fly, the shape of him thick and hard as concrete. It literally takes my breath away. “Because I could give this to you so hard and so thorough, it will be like you’ve never been fucked before. Is that want what you’re wanting? What you’re needing? My big, hard cock deep inside your tight little cunt?”

  My eyes go wide. There’s dirty talk, and then there’s Prince Orlando’s dirty talk, and I don’t think you can even compare the two.

  I end up gripping him through his pants, my body now taking on a mind of it’s own and I decide to let it do what it wants, dictate the show.

  “Yes,” I say, the word coming out breathless and hoarse.

  He bites his lip and grins at me. “That’s what I thought you’d say. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you. I thought, there’s a woman who could use a good fuck and by someone who knows how.”

  I nearly laugh. “Are you always this arrogant?”

  “Get on that counter, spread your legs, and I’ll show you why I have a reason to be.”

  Heat flushes over my entire body. “You better close that door,” I tell him, nodding to the door that’s been ajar this whole time.

  He turns around and quickly shuts the door, and before I have time to try and sit back on the counter, his large hands are wrapping around my waist and hoisting me up. He then puts them at my thighs and spreads them as far as my dress will allow.

  “Hike up your dress,” he tells me. “I want to see how wet you are.”

  Good lord.

  I feel the blush creep on my cheeks as I do as he says. I hitch my dress up over my thighs until it’s gathered around my waist.

  He presses his hands against my thighs until they’re open wide.

  “Move your underwear to the side,” he says, stepping back to get a better look. “Show me.”

  I reach down and move my panties to the side, until I’m completely exposed.

  I want to feel embarrassed or ashamed or vulnerable. I want to look away.

  Instead I’m completely fascinated by his expression. I’ve never been looked at like this before, not even by my ex-husband. Prince Orlando’s intense gaze between my legs is addicting, mesmerizing, like watching the flames in a growing fire.

  Even so, I manage to quietly say, “I’ve never done this before.”

  His magnetic gaze reluctantly lifts away from my pussy and meets my eyes.

  “Spread your legs for a prince?” he questions.

  I nod. “Yes. And I don’t normally . . . do this sort of thing.”

  He squeezes my thighs and stares at me curiously. “Do you feel the need to explain yourself to me? As if I’d think you were a whore otherwise?”

  I give a shy shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “Listen, Stella, princess,” he says to me, taking his hands away and stepping in closer between my legs. One of his hands goes to his fly. “You don’t owe me any sort of explana
tion and I don’t owe you one either. I don’t need to know your past. You’re allowed to just be a woman who wants a good fuck, okay? And I’m allowed to be a man who wants to make you cream yourself on my cock. Got it?”

  Oh. I got it.

  For emphasis, he undoes his zipper with a sound that seems to fill the bathroom and then his pants are coming undone and dropping to the floor.

  He’s going commando.

  I was not prepared for that.

  His cock juts out, bobbing in front of him, capturing the space between us. It’s even bigger than I felt against my palm, thick and dark and long. It’s as beautiful as a penis can get. No wonder he’s so arrogant.

  “We have a saying in Monaco,” he says, wrapping his fingers around the base of it. “Let the cock go free.”

  “Is that really a saying?”

  He gives me a crooked smile before he places his other hand at the back of my neck. “It’s my saying. Along with, never trust a man who hates cats, and the day isn’t over until I’ve made a woman come.”

  I give him an incredulous look.

  He laughs. “Just kidding about that last part but in this case, this day isn’t over until you’ve had at least three orgasms.”

  “Before we talk orgasms, let’s talk condoms.”

  “I don’t have any on me,” he says, hesitating. “I’m clean though, I have to be.”

  I raise my brow at that. “Royals got to stay healthy?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Then same for me. And I’m on the pill.”

  “So…”

  “So…” I give him a coy smile.

  But before the smile even has a chance to fade on my face, his grip on my neck tightens as he positions his cock at my entrance and drives himself inside.

  The wind is knocked out of me.

  I gasp, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist like a reflex as his cock sinks in deeper and deeper.

  I was not prepared for this. I don’t think anyone would be prepared for this.

  Holy.

  “Fuck,” he moans, as he pushes himself into the hilt. My body is so tense that I can barely take in a breath, all I feel is him and there’s a lot of him. Thank god I’m as wet as I am.