She bent down and undid the strap of one of her heels.
“Don’t,” I said. “Keep them on.”
“Okay.”
“Sit.”
She sat on her bed.
I dropped to my knees in front of her, edging my body between her legs. “Spread your knees wider, love.”
She did.
I leaned forward, brushed my lips to the edge of her panties, and licked the velvet-soft skin on her lower abs. I shifted my attention to the upper part of her inner thigh, rubbing the scruff of my beard against her silky smoothness. She inhaled sharply, and threaded her fingers through my hair. “Oh, Max.”
Heaven.
I hooked the thin edge of her panties with a finger and tugged them down over her hips. She shivered as I pulled the thin piece of silk and lace the length of her legs. I lifted her knees up and slid her underwear off. “You’re beautiful, love. Lay back.” I placed her heels flat on the bed and pressed my mouth to her pussy. I ran my tongue over her folds. She squirmed as I teased the sensitive bud in her center. “Does this feel good, Vivian?”
“Yes.”
I dipped my tongue inside her and tasted her center. I moved one hand up her stomach to the front hook of her bra and unsnapped it. I kneaded one beautiful breast, toying with the nipple until it hardened under my touch. Then I moved to the other, and worshiped it. Her nipples were rosy, her tits a perfect handful. Exactly how I imagined them.
“Max.” Her hips squirmed and she lifted her ass off the bed.
I moved my hand to her stomach and pressed her back flat. “It’s my word now, Vivian. And my word is come.”
I lavished her with my tongue, darting it in and out of her pussy. I nibbled her clit until she groaned and arched her back, and I could feel her body shuddering.
“Oh, Jesus!” she said and paused to catch her breath. “Why did we wait so long to do this?”
“You waited so long to do this.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the first night I saw you at MugShots.”
“Well then, you’re a prince. You should have commanded me, or at the very least talked me into it. Jeez, where are your manners?”
I laughed. “Is there anything else you would like, my Lady?”
“You,” she said, and licked her lips.
I pulled a small square package from my back pocket, yanked off my trousers, then my underwear. “I thought you would never ask.”
My dick was rock hard and nearly smacked against my stomach. All eight inches of it bobbed excitedly, I released it from its confinement where it had suffered for the last ten days, a prisoner of lust. I tore open the wrapper with my teeth and rolled on the condom.
Vivian stared wide-eyed at my cock. “Word,” she said.
“Which ‘word’ would you prefer my beautiful princess impersonator?”
“Touch,” she said. “I want to touch your beautiful cock.” She reached for me, took my dick in her hand and stroked it from base to tip, then slipped her fingers under my balls.
I tipped my head back and groaned.
“It’s my word now.” She rubbed my length against her wetness, pushing my cock deeper inside her with each pass.
“I don’t know how much longer I can last.” I gritted my teeth.
“Now. I want you inside me, now.”
I slipped inside her. Her warmth hugged me. All my nerves lit up. I leaned forward and kissed her lips as I rode her. We found our rhythm and rocked the small bed. And she rocked my world.
“Harder,” she said.
I leaned my lips into her shoulder and bit down as I pounded her. I lifted her legs up over my shoulder and buried myself deeper in her.
She closed her eyes. “Excellent. Fuck me harder, Max. Fuck me forever.”
“Your wish is my command,” I said, turning her over. “On your knees. Hold onto the bedpost.”
She did.
“I want your gorgeous ass high in air.”
She rose, presenting herself to me.
God, she was glorious. Her cheeks round and firm. I grasped her hips, positioned myself against her warm, moist, heat and pushed inside.
“So good,” she said, her breath heavy.
I pushed harder, nailing her. Her ass slapped against my lower abs. She was so hot. My Vivi was so hot.
“More,” she said grinding into every thrust.
“I want you to remember me tomorrow when you get on that plane. Remember me when you have a hard time sitting.” I rammed her from behind until I exploded in a whirlwind of pleasure and release. I collapsed on top of her and we just lay there, catching our breath for a minute until I held my prick and eased out. I tied off the condom, disposed of it, and spooned her. I wanted to do this every night and every morning when we woke up together. “I miss you already, Vivvie.”
“I miss you already, too.”
After a brief rest we had round two. I didn’t think it could be all that much better, but it was. Afterwards, I got dressed and hit the bathroom.
“I’m getting us something to drink in the kitchen,” she called.
After I’d washed up I headed into the galley. Vivian was scrubbing dishes in the sink and was wrapped in a cotton robe. I walked up behind her and placed my arms around her waist. “What will I do without you?”
She jumped as if she’d been bitten by a snake. “Apparently a lot,” she said.
“What?” I said. It was as if summer had suddenly turned to winter. Warmth had been replaced by ice.
“Don’t forget your phone,” she said, not even turning to look at me. “I found it on my table. Apparently Daisy and Flora are expecting you at the Savoy tomorrow in London for some slap and tickle. They plan on all three of you having a banging good time.”
My heart dropped. “Daisy and Flora?”
“I’m sure you know them better than I do. Flora just had her nipple pierced and couldn’t wait to show you in person, so she forwarded the picture.”
“It’s not what you think,” I said.
“But it is. It’s also everything that I feared. Thanks for the princely fuck.” She flung open the front door and ushered me out. “I’ll tuck it away in my box of memories, to cherish when I’m sad and old.”
She slammed the door behind me before I had a chance to say anything else. I gripped the weathered railing, the paint chips practically coming off in my hand. The chauffer flashed the lights twice and motored up to the curb. I got in the back, put my head in my hands, and wondered if there was a bigger asshole in the world than me.
Chapter 11
VIVIAN
I wore Cici’s Chanel suit and sat composed, lady-like, in the cool air-conditioned back seat of the town car. “Thanks for picking me up,” I said.
The uniformed chauffeur was new. I assumed they’d switched out the help to eliminate the possibility of discovery.
“You’re welcome. That’s my job,” he said.
We drove past Mugshots. I gazed out the tinted window at the biker bar. This already felt like the journey of a lifetime and yet part of me missed my former job, my friend, and my uncle. I refocused my attention when the driver turned onto the highway leading north to O’Hare Airport.
“Are we still picking up Mr. Cartwright at the Drake?”
“Change of plans. I’ve been instructed to give you this.” He handed me a white envelope with a wax seal. I ripped it open.
Dear Vivian,
I regret to inform you that I will not be accompanying you today on the first leg of your trip to Bellèno. My lower back pain flared last night and I am laid up at Northwestern Hospital’s Spine Center. Don’t fret. All will be fine. E-mail or text Lady or me if you have any questions. One of us will wing our way to you and Bellèno shortly. Please remember we wouldn’t have engaged your services if we didn’t truly believe you were a smart girl who could roll with the punches.
Sincerely, Mr. Cartwright.
I crumpled the note and shoved it in my tote. I
hadn’t planned on pulling off this massive deception on my own. I’d counted on having Mr. Cartwright at my side and texting Zara for emergencies. What if I couldn’t do this by myself? What if I screwed up everything and ruined Cici’s plans? What if I let Max down?
I shook my head. Why was I worried about Max? He could obviously take care of himself. People promised to show up and then they disappeared. Men promised that you were special and then it turned out you were as special as the three other women they were sleeping with. Parents promised to return from a quick trip, but the next time you saw them was in their caskets.
But I’d vowed to give this opportunity my all and I wasn’t about to let that all go to pot because I had one fantasy night with a gorgeous, sexy, ginger prince. Life just didn’t work that way. At least mine didn’t.
* * *
I texted Mr. Cartwright to let him know I’d arrived at Heathrow, but I didn’t hear back from him. My flight from Chicago had been delayed by thunderstorms across the Midwest. By the time I’d cleared customs it was too late to check my bags through to Bellèno. I snagged a cart, hoisted the luggage onto it, and pushed it forward only to watch in horror as two new, designer suitcases crashed to the ground and flipped over.
I re-stacked them and peered at my diamond-encrusted watch. I needed to get my ass in gear or I’d miss my connection to Bellèno.
“Based on your leisurely pace I take it you’re planning on staying over in London tonight,” Max said, walking up alongside me pulling a neat carry-on bag.
I jumped. “What are you doing here? I thought you were long gone.”
“Cartwright is in the hospital. Zara’s busy. You’re a smart girl, but this isn’t the easiest job. I’m your new handler.”
“‘Handler?’” I rolled my eyes, and pushed the cart, one wheel wobbling precariously. “That’s rich. I don’t need handling or your assistance.” The cart veered, nearly clipping an elderly man’s heels.
“Let me push this thing,” Max said, taking over. “Bellèno Airways is in Terminal Two, which is about fifteen minutes from here if we sprint.” He checked his watch. “Flight 711 to St. Luce boards in five minutes. You’re going to have to pick up those pretty toes and run if you want to make this flight.”
“Done.” I threw my tote over one shoulder, my purse over the other, and hustled past slow-moving tourists.
“This is the last flight out before the storm hits,” Max said. “We could be grounded for a night.”
“Then we’d better hurry. Because I’ll guarantee I’m not going to be shacked up with you and those two slutty chicks.”
“I’m sorry you saw that text,” he said, catching up to me.
“Gracious of you.” I frowned and walked faster.
“Look, Vivvie. I had a life before we met. That life involved relationships.”
“I totally get it. I just wish you’d been a little clearer on that from the get-go. Maybe give me a heads up like, ‘Are you going to invite me inside tonight, Vivian? I sure hope it’s tonight because I’m booked up the rest of the week banging the Flower girls in London.’”
“I’m sorry. For the record? I haven’t been with Flora or Daisy since I met you. I haven’t been with anyone— except for you— since I met you.”
“Good to know. Now hurry it up because I’m boarding that plane to Bellèno if it’s the last thing I do.”
* * *
I was breathless, sweaty, and I feared Cici’s beautiful suit was disheveled by the time I boarded Bellèno Airlines Flight 711 from London to Bellèno. The jet was small, only twenty seats. An elegant white-haired couple were the only other passengers, seated at the rear of the cabin. A male flight attendant was impeccably attired in Bellèno’s royal colors of purple, white and gray.
I checked my boarding pass, glanced up at the overhead numbers and took my seat. Max dropped into the chair next to me.
“Stop helicoptering.” I was sleep-deprived, jet-lagged, running on stress, and desperately needed to re-group. The last thing I needed was to engage more with Max. “Check your ticket. This isn’t your seat.”
He pulled his ticket from his pocket.
I grabbed it from him. “You’re in 4D. I’m in 2A. Do. Not. Sit. Next. To. Me.”
“Except for Grandma and Grandpa back there we’re the only people on board. No one’s going to bump me out of the seat next to you.”
“I’m going to bump you out of the seat next to me.”
“Come on.”
“I need shut-eye. I’ve been awake since… forever. I’m going to see my ‘father’ after we land. I need to be on my A game and that requires some Z’s. Please.”
“Oh.” He arched one eyebrow and stood up. “Right. Not a problem.” He took a seat on the opposite side of the plane.
Oh God, this was it. Soon I’d be in Bellèno pretending to be Lady Catherine ‘Cici’ Fontaine for all her friends and family, not just one incredibly attractive guy. A man I’d had sex with. The first man I’d let into my life, let alone my panties, in a long, long time. Could I do this impersonation thing? What had I gotten myself into?
The flight attendant stood at the front of the aircraft and saluted. “Welcome to Bellèno Airlines Flight 711 from London to St. Luce, Bellèno. My name is Karl and I’ll be pleased to serve you during this flight. Our flying time is estimated to be one hour and thirty minutes. Please store your personal items under the seat in front of you or in the generous storage bins overhead. There are two exit doors on this plane…”
I stared at one of them, fantasized about breaking through it, running across the tarmac, and leaping on the next plane for Chicago.
“Once the captain has given the all-clear, we will be serving complementary soft drinks and snacks. Alcoholic beverages and organic Bellèno sausages can also be purchased at this time with a credit card. We invite you to sit back, relax, and feel bellissimo with Bellèno Air.”
I peered out the tiny window. This was all I would ever see of London. The sky grew darker and storm clouds bore down on us at an alarming rate. There were terrible squalls when we left O’Hare, but with the exception of a few bumps in the first half hour it was smooth sailing.
I predicted the same for this flight. We’d soar smoothly through the European skies and touch down—soft like the skin on a baby’s bottom—in St. Luce. According to Mr. Cartwright’s instructions, there would be a car and driver waiting for me. Undoubtedly, Prince Max had his own pickup service. Similar to “Nude Maids” it was probably called “Slutty Drivers”. Two girls could switch off between driving in the front seat and blowing him in the back.
We pushed back from the gate, taxied and, after a few minutes, took off. I white-knuckled the armrests as the plane jostled while we winged through the bumpy air. And then we were above them. Sun shone through the tiny window as the jet’s engine whirred loudly. The large metropolis below was shrouded with thick gray clouds like a comforting, fuzzy blanket.
“You are free to move about the cabin,” Karl announced. “I’ll be taking food and beverage orders shortly.”
I glanced at Max. He looked so handsome, leaning back against the seat. He appeared to be power napping. Dear God, the man was totally out of my league. Hot ginger Prince of Bellèno with lips that ravished. I’d been to candyland, partaken of the potion, and now needed to break the compulsion. But an addiction to Prince Maximillian of Bellèno was going to be a tough one to beat. I pulled out my tablet. The plane shook abruptly from side to side. I peered out the window. Those dark clouds were well below us. All I saw was sunshine and happiness.
“The captain has informed me that we will be winging our way through a bit of choppy air,” Karl said via the intercom. “Please fasten your seatbelts and remain in your seats until further notice. This will delay the beverage and food service.”
I was growing accustomed to the concept of hurtling through the skies, even dealing with minor turbulence. I pulled my seatbelt tight across my lap when the plane plummeted and I screamed.
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“Air pocket!” Karl hollered. He threw himself into the nearest seat, and buckled up.
“We’re all going to die!” the grandmother yelled.
“Crap!” I’d marched a hundred miles to perfect a walk, practiced the royal wave until I’d developed tendonitis in my wrist, and had memorized faces, dates, and names until they haunted me in my sleep. I’d had my skin insulted, survived an overly close encounter with a waxer, and apparently all for nothing, because I was on a small jet diving toward piercing, snow-covered mountaintops that drew closer outside my window. “Fuck!”
Max bounced into the seat next to me and reached for my hand. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Dear Jesus.” I hyperventilated, and attempted to cross myself. But it had been a while. Was it left first then right, or the opposite? “I’m still your biggest fan, Jesus. Please don’t let us die on this pitiful plane—”
“Pitiful my arse!” Karl swiveled his head toward me like Linda Blair in The Exorcist. “We just had the seats reupholstered.”
We hit another air pocket and plunged again. “I never thought I’d die in the Italian Alps.” I gritted my teeth as the small jet shook like a Shamrock Shake.
“The French Alps.” Max secured his seatbelt low and tight across his impressive lap.
Oh, for God’s sake, Vivian. A come-to-Jesus moment should not include ogling a hot prince’s package.
He took my hand again and squeezed it as every nut and bolt shuddered to hold this airplane together. “It’s just a bit of turbulence,” he said.
We hit another air pocket and plummeted again. “Shit!” I rasped for breath and peered out the window horrified, as white, razor sharp mountainous peaks drew closer. “Forgive me, I have sinned.”
“That’s a great idea.” Max yanked the armrest that separated us and wrapped his arms around me. “Pretend I’m a priest. I’m Father Max O’Malley. Close your pretty eyes, confess all your sins to me, and get them off your beautiful breasts. It’ll distract you.”
The Prince's Playbook Page 8
