Prince Charming

by K. Webster

  “His dick is probably hard,” she taunts.

  “You’re changing the game,” I warn. “I guess you don’t want your fifty grand.”

  “I want it. You’re the one who changed the game. We were supposed to do this and not draw attention to ourselves, and now you want me to make eye contact with hot guys.”

  “Stop calling them hot.” My toy likes when I play along.

  “Told you you were jealous.”

  “Fine. Make googly eyes with your little not-gay boyfriend over there. But do you remember the other part of the deal?”

  “Where you say sweet things to me and we cuddle?”

  “Before that.”

  I’m a spoiled boy who likes things my way too.

  “You’re an asshole who wants to say cruel things.”

  “That’s it. Can you handle it?”

  “For fifty grand, I can handle anything.”

  I lazily rub at her clit as I inhale her hair that she pulled out of her ponytail earlier and straightened before dinner. “Your father would be mortified if he knew his precious little princess was getting fucked in a bar with everyone watching. Do you think your real daddy would call you a whore?” I nip at her ear. “That’s what you are, Cinderelliott. A high-paid prostitute. You fuck me because you’re so damn desperate to go to college. Nothing but a charity case. Poor little girl who tries desperately to play wicked games with a man twice her age. What is it your stepmother said? That’s it . . . you disgust her.”

  She squirms and huffs, clearly hating my words, but a deal’s a deal. Since she’s not pulling the plug on our negotiation and forfeiting the money, I continue.

  “Do your brothers take turns fucking you? Do you take all three of them at once? I bet that’s why they’re so fucking jealous. They’ve had a taste of your sweet pussy and want it all for themselves. But you’re only hungry for one dick, hmm?”

  “Just yours,” she croaks out.

  “I should pass you around to my colleagues and brothers. If the price is right, I think you’d do anything. Money is the magical trick that has you spreading your legs. Am I right?”

  “No. I only want you.”

  I reward her with another pinch to her clit, twisting it almost painfully for her. Her cunt squeezes my dick to the point I’m sweating with the need to come.

  “I bet you’d let Keaton fuck you while our little sister watched. Is that what you want? My little brother to be inside you?”

  “No, asshole,” she breathes. “Just you.”

  This delusional girl wants things I can’t give her.

  Exclusivity. My undivided attention. A romantic relationship that leads to a wedding and babies.

  Even though she knows we play games, I believe she often forgets the most important fact: None of it is real. None of it will ever be real. At least not with me.

  “What about Perry? He’d probably give you all the sweet words in the world. Probably treat you like the princess you wish you were. But you’re just a fraud. A worthless maid who wears pretty dresses bought by a rich man and fucks on his command.”

  “I hate you.”

  “You don’t, because your pussy is so fucking wet, Cinderelliott. The juices running from your body feel a lot like a little girl in love with someone who can’t love her back.”

  The hot suited guy is no longer trying to carry on a conversation with the person across from him. His attention is zeroed in under the table which means he can see what we’re up to from his position.

  “Twenty more if you let me show him what’s mine.” I kiss the side of her neck. “Hmm?”

  “I’m not going to stop you from making me richer,” she murmurs. “Do it.”

  I slip my hand from her clit to grip her dress and lift it. The guy’s eyes bug out of his head, and he licks his lips. He says something to the guy across from him, but his attention never leaves my girl’s pretty cunt. I let his peep show end by dropping her dress back down and finding her clit once more beneath the material. The guy calls a bartender over, writes something down, and hands it to him. A few seconds later, the bartender stops at our table.

  “The fella over there would like to buy the lady a drink,” the bartender says. “And to pass this on to her.”

  “He can’t afford what she likes,” I tell him. “Run along.”

  The bartender shrugs and leaves us.

  “Read what your boyfriend has to say.” I rub her quicker and quicker, loving the soft pants escaping her. “Now, Ash.”

  She picks up the business card and flips it over. “When you’re finished with him for the night, call me. I can pay double, and you’ll enjoy fucking someone closer to your own age a helluva lot more.” She whimpers as she comes and then curses at me. “He thinks I’m a prostitute, Win.”

  “My prostitute,” I say with a dark laugh.

  Her body tenses at my words and guilt sluices through me, though it shouldn’t since we both know the stakes here.

  “Girlfriend,” she growls back, squeezing her pussy like a fucking vise.

  I pin the hot suited guy with a fuck you, kid glare as I come into my girlfriend or toy or paid whore or whatever the hell I feel like calling her. The point is, I let him know she’s mine.

  He looks away, finally understanding the message.

  “Ask the bartender for some napkins, beautiful girl,” I instruct, laying on the sweetness thick enough she’ll get cavities. “You need to clean up all my come inside you.”

  It’s an awkward shuffle, but she manages to slide off me once she’s waved down the bartender to bring her some napkins. Her body shields anyone from seeing my dick hanging out of my pants, half-hard and dripping. Like the good girl she is, she cleans me up and puts me back to rights.

  “What now?” she asks, her voice shaky.

  I pull out my phone and send her seventy grand. Then, I take a picture of the guy’s business card and send it to Deborah with a text telling her to find out everything she can about the guy.

  “Ready, pumpkin?” I taunt, using the stupidest pet name I can come up with.

  “For anything, Daddy.”

  The bad girl says it loud enough that we get several interested stares. I’ve definitely met my match with her.

  I give her ass a squeeze as we leave, making sure to stare down hot suited, and soon-to-be financially ruined, guy on the way out. That’ll teach that fucker to insinuate this girl is a whore—one he’d actually have access to.

  Only one man gets to call her those filthy names.

  Winston fucking Constantine.

  10

  Ash

  “Don’t forget to tell him he’s a good bird,” I say, glancing over at Win in the passenger seat of the Escalade. “I’m serious.”

  He looks up from his phone to scoff at me. “I’m not talking to that bird.”

  “He’ll think you don’t like him.”

  “I don’t like him.”

  “Liar.”

  “He’s loud and smells.”

  “He does not smell,” I growl. “Take it back.”

  “Maybe you should take him back home where he belongs.”

  I tense as I think about Scout getting his evil claws back on my bird. Hell no. He’d most certainly hurt Shrimp now to hurt me. I’m lucky I safely got him out of that hellhole. If only I could get myself out too.

  The triplets aren’t the only side of the wicked coin that’s bothering me. There’s the whole Morelli situation that looms over me like a dark, menacing cloud. With each day that passes without incident, I worry about when Leo will show his face again and demand answers—answers I not only don’t have but refuse to give.

  “Fine, I’ll tell the loud-ass bird he’s precious and beautiful and the best damn bird to ever exist,” he drawls out, sarcasm thick in his tone. “Happy?”

  “Yep. Shrimp doesn’t know they’re fake words like I do.” I let out a heavy sigh. “For the record, I’m not looking forward to going home.”

  I wince at my admi
ssion I didn’t mean to slip out.

  He stiffens. “You said your dad and Manda would be there.”

  I’d texted Dad earlier today to check in. And while he said they’d both be home, I wasn’t exactly eager to get back to the place where the Terror Triplets could so easily get to me if they wanted. But I wasn’t about to ask Winston to stay at his place. Despite the fun we have, in his eyes, this really is just a job he pays me for. I’m not deluded into thinking he’s falling for me or anything crazy like that, though I desperately wish for it to be. One day, he’ll grow tired of the games we play and move onto another willing subject, or maybe, finally settle down and marry. If I force him to house me and entertain me all hours of every day, I’ll only insure he’ll get bored and pretty quickly too.

  The thought of him moving on to another woman sours my stomach.

  “If you don’t feel safe—” he starts, but I cut him off with a shake of my head.

  “It’s fine. Dad may be up Manda’s butt, but he loves me and wouldn’t let them hurt me.”

  He frowns at me as though he doesn’t believe me, but it’s the truth. If I was smart, I would confess to Dad what those monsters did to me. Truth is, though, I would die if he took Manda’s side for some reason. That would be a rejection I couldn’t come back from.

  “I’ll get you an apartment,” Winston clips out, his words cold and businesslike. “There are plenty of furnished places near the office—”

  “No.” I let out a groan. “It’s fine. I said Dad will keep me safe.”

  Dumb girl. Did you really think he’d beg you to move in with him?

  “Don’t be obtuse,” he grunts out. “It makes the most sense, and you’ll be safe.”

  “I don’t want a whore’s apartment, okay? I’d rather take my chances with the monsters.”

  My heart thunders in my chest as I wait for him to fight for me. Because a real boyfriend would do that. Someone who cared would ask me to stay and not send me to the wolves.

  “Speed up,” Winston says once we turn onto my road.

  “What? Why?”

  “Do it,” he clips out.

  “We’re almost there. Are we not going to my house?”

  “How did it feel when they were violating you? Cutting your clothes from your body? Stealing your hard-earned money? Ruining you? Hmm, pretty girl?”

  His words cause a mixture of violent fury and the desire to melt at his sweet pet name.

  “Horrible. I hate them,” I hiss. “They’re monsters.”

  “Then destroy what they love.” His blue eyes flash in a maddened way in the darkened vehicle.

  What do they love? I already know. The three matching Audis, cars that mean more to them than any other status symbol.

  “This SUV can take the hit,” Winston continues. “The airbags aren’t going to come out. It’s designed that way.”

  Understanding washes over me like gasoline to my inner inferno of anger at my stepbrothers. Emboldened by his words and the fact I’m safe in this vehicle, I press onto the accelerator.

  “It was an accident,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “You accidentally hit the gas instead of the brake. You’re so sorry.”

  My heart ratchets in my chest as three matching Audis parked in a row on the street come into view. As I near them, I swerve at the last minute, slamming into the back of the third one. I’m slung forward, the seatbelt bruising my chest as the crunch of metal resounds. All three of the Audis start wailing their alarms. I turn to look at Winston, my mouth gaping in shock.

  I can’t believe I just did that.

  Holy shit.

  “Back it up now,” Winston instructs, guiding me on what to do. “Good girl.”

  I’m trembling until his palm covers my thigh, and he squeezes. Knowing he has my back does wonders to calm me. We climb out of the SUV to check out my handiwork.

  All three cars are damaged. The car I hit is the worst, crumpled to the point it likely has to be totaled. The one in the middle is sandwiched between the other two. The Escalade has a broken headlight and scraped paint off the bumper, but no other visible damage.

  “What the fuck?” Scout roars as he rushes from the house, his psychotic brothers on his tail.

  Manda and Dad come running out next as do a few neighbors to check out the big fuss. I turn on the waterworks, bursting into tears because it’s worked wonders in the past to get me out of trouble with my dad.

  “I’m s-so sorry,” I choke out, clinging to Winston’s hand. “I accidentally hit the gas instead of the brake.”

  “You fucked our cars,” Sully whines, gesturing to the middle vehicle. “Mine won’t even be drivable.”

  Sparrow paces near the front car, ripping at his hair like he might cry. Scout glares at the third car that’s smashed the worst and cracks his neck.

  “Enough, boys,” Dad barks. “Those things can be replaced. Ash cannot. Are you okay, sweetheart? Are you hurt?”

  Winston gives my hand a squeeze as Dad approaches me. I let go of him to hug my dad, soaking his shirt with my tears. He pats my back and assures me everything is going to be okay and that I’m safe now. A sob escapes me, but this time it’s for real.

  Will it be okay?

  Am I safe?

  “This is an expensive mistake, Ash,” Manda clips out. “Why were you even driving? You don’t have a car.”

  I pull from Dad’s embrace, taking Winston’s hand again. He’s cold and prickly when he wants to be, but right now, he’s playing the part of supportive boyfriend. I’ll definitely reward him later for this, but certainly not from my own whore’s apartment. No thank you.

  “Winston bought me a car,” I say, smiling up at him. “He didn’t think all my Uber travels were safe.”

  He winces at the word Uber. I nearly crack up laughing.

  “At least my car seems fine,” I continue. “I’d have felt awful if I totaled my new car.”

  “All that matters is you’re safe,” Winston assures me, laying it on thick. “Right?”

  Manda nods as though it pains her to. Dad’s is more convincing. For a split second, I see the dad I love and remember. The one who took care of me after Mom died, doing his damnedest to be both parents for me. My heart aches for what we used to have before Manda sank her claws into him.

  “There’s nothing we can do until morning,” Dad says, puffing out his chest with an air of authority. “We’ll call a tow service tomorrow. For now, join us for a drink, Mr. Constantine, and let me know your intentions for my daughter.”

  The Terror Triplets scowl my way and Manda frowns. They’re not used to Dad taking the lead. Something about seeing his daughter with the richest man in the city, though, has him going into protective papa bear mode. Because I’m not a child, I don’t stick my tongue out at the Mannfords. It takes every ounce of self-control, though, because I am petty.

  “Certainly, Mr. Elliott,” Winston agrees with a nod. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  Everyone files back into the brownstone. I expect the triplets to storm off to their rooms to pout and plot revenge. Instead, they hover nearby like vultures, ready to swoop in and pick the meat from my bones. They’re practically salivating for the opportunity.

  Winston sits on the loveseat, pulling me down next to him. His protective arm wraps around me, holding me close. It does wonders for my erratic heart. Knowing he has my back against those monsters means the world to me. We negotiate a lot in our relationship, but this seems to come free and natural for him.

  So why doesn’t he let it just happen?

  Why keep me at arm’s length by offering to get me an apartment?

  While Dad brings out a bottle of wine, I watch Manda closely. Her nostrils flare, and her dark eyes are liquid fury. But she doesn’t speak out. Since my dad isn’t trying to beat Winston’s ass, it makes me wonder if she even told Dad about the words she discovered on my stomach. Manda doesn’t seem the sort to hold back information without a purpose. Question is, what’
s her purpose by not telling Dad? I’d think she’d want to further drive a wedge between me and my father.

  “We attended your thirty-seventh last night,” Dad says to Winston, handing him a glass of red wine. “You do realize you’re old enough to be her father.”

  The triplets glare at me, and Manda makes a disgusted sound under her breath. Winston simply chuckles. Low, dark, and evil.

  “I realize this, yes,” Winston throws back, his voice icy and hard. “Though, I think you have it wrong. She’s my assistant and maid.”

  I try not to flinch at the reality of his words.

  The word you’re looking for is whore, Win. I’m your whore.

  Dad scoffs, shaking his head, gesturing at the way Winston holds me. “And I wasn’t born yesterday, Constantine. Cut the shit. We both know you’re Ash’s boyfriend.”

  I bark out a surprised laugh and sneak a look at Winston. The twitch of his jaw tells me he’s entertained by my amusement, but he doesn’t let anyone else know.

  “If I were Ash’s boyfriend, that would be a problem why?” Winston challenges. “She’s not a little girl anymore.”

  Dad bristles and furrows his brow. “She just turned eighteen.”

  “I’m fully aware of her age, Mr. Elliott.” Winston sips his wine and then nods at Scout. “There won’t be any retaliation for what happened here tonight, will there?”

  His words catch Dad off guard. Dad glances at me, sees my worried expression, then darts his eyes over to Scout who’s practically purple with rage. He straightens and shakes his head in vehemence.

  “Of course not,” Dad growls, his glare pinning Scout. “The boys know it was an accident.”

  “See to it that they do,” Winston clips out. “They seem to step in where they’re not wanted when it concerns my Ash.”

  My Ash.

  I give Winston the heart eyes as he calls it, because in moments like these hope shines through the cracks of his icy façade, contradicting all his cold words. He doesn’t look at me, though I can tell he wants to, but he’s in a staring contest with Dad.

  “I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” Dad says, anger lacing his words.