Prince's Revenge Baby: A Royal Romance

by Ana Adams

  Antonia tried her best to look crestfallen.

  ***

  The volume kicked up a notch in the casino, as though everyone around them were buzzing about the win. Though that was probably just in Lou’s head. He and Antonia shared a mischievous smile. His plan was working out better than he’d ever imagined—she’d offered her room key and lost. Signor Giovanni, prepare for ruin.

  But maybe his nemesis’s fall wouldn’t be the sweetest treat that evening. As they stood up from the table, he admired the two black room keys in his hands.

  “Now what should I do with both of these rooms?”

  “It’s up to you.” She sighed, a smile fighting through. “Though whatever you do, just let me get my things out of there in time.”

  “I suppose we should start civilly. I may be the conquistador, but I’m no barbarian.” He offered his arm to her as they began walking toward the lobby. She took it, hesitantly.

  “I appreciate your civility. After all, you’ve only won the room key, and not my actual body.”

  “Correct.” He appraised the gamblers as they strolled down the main pathway; curious eyes flicked toward them. The Prince always drew looks, but with a woman like her on his arm, it was double the eye candy. “Though I didn’t realize you liked to raise the stakes that way. I’m afraid that’s a type of betting even I cannot condone.”

  She laughed. “You’re clever.” They pushed through the heavy doors. The cool air of the grand foyer greeted them; footsteps scuffed quietly as patrons mingled on the periphery. “Though I’m curious to know what you plan to do now.”

  He paused beneath the chandelier, making a display of looking around, as though searching for an answer. His arm still clasped beneath his, he shrugged. “Will you have a drink with me?”

  Her eyes twinkled as she watched him. The answer could only be yes. “Sure.”

  They shared a grin that made his belly flop. She was certainly disarming—beautiful in a way that felt ancient and perfect, like the sculptures in a museum. His jaw clenched as he thought about what might be under that tight dress of hers. The landscape was promising enough.

  But this is business. He could enjoy it, sure—but even just the hint of an affair would do. If she didn’t want to follow him into his bed, he could rustle up enough of a scandal just from her leaving his room. He’d make sure the right people were in the right place. One call to his assistant to drop a tantalizing tip to the press, and wham. They’d be on them like flies on meat.

  He headed for the elevator, beckoning that she followed. Confusion crossed her face. “Don’t you want to go to the bar?”

  “I’d like to use one of these room keys in my pocket, and I promise you at least one of the rooms has a far superior view than the bar.”

  She strutted behind him, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re talking about your room, of course. But how do you know my room doesn’t have a superior view also?”

  The elevator doors opened. He ushered her inside first, then pressed the button for the penthouse.

  Her eyes widened. “Maybe your room does have the superior view. Are you here on business?”

  “Basically.”

  “That was a yes or no question.”

  “Then yes.” He stiffened, worried she might catch on that he was from the royal family. “But most of my days are business. There’s hardly a line between business and not-business.”

  “I understand that.” She sighed, her gaze wandering down his arm. Goosebumps followed in its wake. “Don’t you ever just want to escape from it?”

  Their eyes met. Understanding sizzled through him, along with longing and a desperation that nearly made him scream. “I do. So badly.” Right now. With you.

  Her eyes were heavy on his, but he couldn’t look away. When the elevator doors opened, she was the first to break the gaze. “Is this your floor?”

  “Here we are.” He led her into the small hallway leading to the locked penthouse. He swiped the card, and the door opened silently. She sucked in a breath as she beheld the inside: gleaming marble foyer, high ceilings, a far wall totally made of windows overlooking the glittering Monacan nightscape.

  “Wow.” She walked into the penthouse, gaze roaming over the plush surroundings. Let her think this was a one-off—really, this was his permanent suite, always reserved for him. He shut the door quietly behind them, basking in her admiration. There was something sacred about a person’s first witnessing of a penthouse. He could tell this wasn’t normal for her, which somehow turned him on even more.

  “This certainly is luxurious.” She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes smoldering and dark. He swallowed hard. A lurid affair in the tabloids didn’t mean the affair behind closed doors couldn’t be sweet and drawn out. He’d take his chances, see how much he could coax out of her.

  “Do you like it?” He followed her toward the far wall, eyes on the mesmerizing sway of her hips as she walked. The woman was pure curves and sultriness…made of chocolate, caramel skin that he desperately wanted to lick every inch of. He licked his lips involuntarily, imagining what she might taste like. What sweetness lay between her legs, even.

  She inhaled sharply, resting her hands on her hips as she surveyed the flickers of light that were his kingdom. “I think it shall suffice.”

  He laughed softly, nudging her with his hip. “Hard to please.”

  “No, it’s just that the view in my room is a bit better.”

  “How can it be? For the price of this penthouse, I demand the best view.”

  She lifted a brow, mischief playing across her face. “Because there I walk naked. Here, I’m forced to stay in my dress.”

  Alarm bells went off in his head. She had opened the door herself—and he intended to follow as fast as he could. “My, my. Now that’s a view that nobody could dare compete with. I take it you admire it just as much as I do?”

  He smoothed his hand over her hip, cocking his head as he searched her face for consent. Was this too far? All in his head?

  She bit her lip, gaze raking across his chest and up to his eyes. There was fire there.

  It’s time to play.

  Chapter Three

  Antonia’s heart hammered so fast she felt as if she’d pass out. But she wasn’t scared. There was an assured stillness inside her, pushing her toward this uncharacteristic flirtation.

  This wasn’t her. This wasn’t normal. But it felt so right.

  She slid a hand over Lou’s, guiding it around to her ass. His eyes flashed, the green refining into an emerald. He pulled her against him so quickly she gasped. The heat of his body throbbed through her, made her ache in ways she hadn’t even dreamed of.

  “You want this?” He murmured sweetly to her, his breath coming out hot against her forehead. She gulped, nodding, brain clouding with a maelstrom of thoughts. What are you doing? Why now, why him—who even is he? Who even cares? She knew one thing for sure. This man. This night.

  His lips grazed her hairline. Shivers coursed up and down her spine. She tilted her head back to look him in the eye. He appraised her face.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered. And then he kissed her delicately, so much more delicately than she’d ever have thought possible.

  When they parted, she was hungry for more. She blinked up at him, chest heaving. “You’re gorgeous too, you know.”

  “At least we’re in good company.” A smile lifted the corner of his mouth, and he cupped her cheek in his big, rough hand and dipped in for another. Their lips connected softly, but then hunger took over. Of all the boys she’d kissed in her life, none had been men. None had been like this mysterious stranger, who seemed to command her simply by being near her.

  She’d let him win at the poker table. And now she would let him win one of the biggest prizes she had to offer.

  He moaned through the kiss, pulling her tighter against him. His body was rock solid beneath his suit; desperation licked through her.

  Something unhinged inside, the gun
shot signaling the start of a race. He backed her up against the glass wall, the coolness making her shudder. She pressed her fingertips to his face, the rough stubble surprising her. She whimpered, searching out his tongue with her own. He softened and let her in, their tongues dancing, a surge of moisture dampening her panties.

  As if on cue, her hands began trembling. Her body knew where this was leading, no matter that it had never been down this path before.

  When they broke for air, Lou pressed his forehead against hers. “You are dangerous.”

  “Why?”

  His hands moved from the roundness of her ass to hook under her butt cheeks. She clenched, breath hitching in her throat. She wanted him everywhere, all at once.

  “Because I already know I can’t let you leave this room.” His laughter came out hoarse, guttural.

  “So you’ll kidnap me? Make me your penthouse hostage?”

  “Only if you agree to it.” His lips grazed hers, and she shivered again.

  “I agree.”

  Their eyes locked, and something heavy passed between them. His thumb traced the edge of her jawline.

  “I want to undress you.”

  “Do it.” Her own voice sounded foreign to her. She’d never imagined she’d speak those words that night, or anytime soon.

  His hands traced the contour of her spine, up to the clasp at the top of her dress. He drew the zipper down, languorous and teasing, never breaking her gaze. The chill of the air against her bare back made her nipples taut.

  “I’m going to lick you from head to toe.” His voice came out low, measured, the feel of his words like being caressed by a whip. “And then I’m going to fuck you…slowly. So slowly. Until you scream for more.”

  She swallowed a shriek of excitement. “Sounds like a plan.”

  He pushed the dress off her shoulders, down her arms, exposing her black satin bra and panties. He bent at the knees to push the dress down to her feet, stabilizing her as she stepped out of it.

  When he stood, he exhaled slowly, his gaze traveling her body like a warm hand.

  “What about you?” There was something thrilling about being on display in front of him. She had the winning hand, and they both knew it. “You should get naked too.”

  “In time.” His thumbs hooked beneath the straps of her bra, bringing them down to the sides of her arms. “When I say.”

  Butterflies erupted in her belly and suddenly she never wanted this moment, this encounter, to ever end. She’d never felt like this with anyone before. Why was it so different with him? Maybe it was the way he commanded her, as if he knew the secrets, the hidden path they should follow.

  “Turn around.”

  She did as he said, facing the far wall. He unhooked her bra, and it crumpled to the crooks of her elbows. She sucked in a breath. He turned her back to face him, a soft smile on his face. He began loosening the cuffs of his suit jacket, eyes steady on her breasts. He slid the jacket off, tossing it to the couch. He made quick work of his shirt buttons, and then he stood bare-chested in front of her, his creamy, toned torso staring back at her.

  “Mmmm.” She couldn’t help it. She reached out for him, fingertips tripping over the defined ridges of his abs. He grinned at her, shimmying out of his black slacks, so he was clad only in silky black briefs that hugged muscled thighs. His cock made an impressive ridge, one that made her eyes widen.

  “It’s all yours,” he murmured into her ear, pressing her against the wall, his flesh hot against hers. He hooked her behind the thighs and lifted her, pressing their groins together. She sucked in sharply, the hardness of his cock a welcome pressure against the tight nub of her sex. Though she’d never given away her virginity, she’d done all the other things known to mankind.

  He dipped down to take a rosy nipple in his mouth, lavishing kisses across her skin on his way back up to her face. “Let’s go to the couch.” His voice came out a whisper.

  She nodded, loving the way their bodies formed against each other, wondering why she’d never felt so turned on with anyone else before him. He carried her to the rose-colored couch, laying her down gently, positioning himself between her splayed legs. His gaze traveled appreciatively over her body, his fingers traveling between her legs, his middle finger grazing the tight nub of her clitoris before swirling over her entrance.

  She sucked at her teeth, and his finger plunged inside, swirling deep. Their lips met; colors exploded behind her lids. When they parted, he looked dazed.

  “You’re so wet,” he said, sounding surprised. He leaned over, tugging at the pants abandoned on the floor, grappling with something in the pocket.

  “I want it,” she said, wrapping her legs around him. His eyes lit up. “Give it to me.”

  He grinned, finally extracting a condom from the pants. He tore open the foil wrapper and rolled the latex sheath over his cock. She watched with fascination, feeling out-of-body.

  “How can I say no?” He dipped down for a kiss, and their tongues found one another, sloppily, desperately. When they parted, he positioned his cock. The pressure at her entrance was notable—she bit her lip, fear and worry and everything else colliding inside her. What if it didn’t fit? What if he could tell she was a virgin? She took a deep breath and realized he was watching her.

  “It’s okay,” he said, his thumb stroking the arch of her cheek. “I’ll go slow.”

  She nodded, looking down at his cock. It would never fit.

  He positioned his cockhead again and pressed. After a moment, it fit inside with a pop. She relaxed; he pushed in. His eyes fluttered shut and she felt herself falling away, disappearing into the void of sensation.

  “Antonia,” he growled, sinking deeper, so deep she thought he’d injure something inside her. When he found his last inch, he gasped. She flexed against him, loving the friction, the fullness, the sensation of union.

  “Oh, fuck,” she moaned, grabbing at his hips. She bucked against him, the friction hitting her clit in just the right way, all the clamoring feelings of new, full, huge, wow butting up against one another, making her feel wild and free.

  “Mmmm.” He began a slow rhythm against her, his slick cock slipping out and then back in, waves of pleasure so profound she barely knew what to do. All she could do was clutch at him and enjoy it. She arched against him, pressing her forehead to his slick chest, catching a whiff of vetiver.

  Splaying her legs wider, she felt her insides loosen up, welcoming the girth of him, the fullness, the sensation of finally being filled. His abs flexed as he moved against her. A hand wandered between her legs, his thumb seeking out her clit.

  She tensed; the friction gave all the building sensations inside her a focal point. The orgasm was coming. She gritted her teeth, moaning, bucking harder against his hand.

  “Oh, Lou,” she gasped, clutching at his toned sides, his gaze so intense on her she thought it might burn a hole.

  “Come, baby,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Come for me.” He rocked against her, slow but steady, the view of his thick cock filling her the most erotic thing she’d ever laid eyes on. “I’m close.”

  “Me too,” she moaned, clutching at his bicep. He pinched her clit; the storm gathered. She threw her head back, feeling the release at hand, mouth open in a soundless scream as she tensed against him and let the waterfall of pleasure spill forth. Her orgasm rocked through her in bright, sticky waves, her muscles contracting around his cock as she came and came and came. She screamed, turning her face to the side of the couch, loving how he didn’t stop rocking against her, never stopped filling her.

  “Antonia!” His voice was gruff and he tensed and then he scooped her into his arms, pressing her against the length of his torso, body quaking as he came.

  She let a deep sigh into the crook of his neck, loving the smell of him, his warmth, his skin against hers. Her mind was hazy; orgasms without sex were sure different than this. How had she missed out for so long?

  “Holy shit,” she croaked, fingers tangl
ing in the hair at the nape of his neck. He kept her pressed tightly against him, stroking her hair, their bodies forming a delicious seal, their hearts stacked one over the other, pounding in rhythm.

  ***

  The next morning, lying in bed with Antonia nestled in his arms, Louis couldn’t quite return to the original plan that had gotten him here.

  Revenge suddenly seemed so trite compared to the explosive connection he and Antonia shared. Maybe it was a blessing her father had screwed him over. If only so he could tap into the addictive energy his daughter possessed. They’d spent the rest of the evening flirting and making love, so many times that he couldn’t even count. They’d bathed together, drunk wine together, wandered the balcony naked together.

  Twelve hours later and he felt as if they’d known each other for a year. He shifted in bed, admiring the curve of her shoulder into neck. She was a vixen angel.

  One that he’d have a hard time saying goodbye to.

  Antonia stirred in his arms. Yawning, she looked up at him, one eye squinted shut. “Morning.”

  “Morning.” He dragged his thumb over her forehead, brushing hair out of her eyes. Her thigh nudged between his legs, resting against his limp cock.

  “I thought we’d never fall asleep,” she murmured, her voice hoarse and throaty. “With how much you insisted on penetrating me.”

  He laughed, squeezing her closer. “Oh, trust me, you were doing most of the insisting.”

  “Not bad, huh?” Her eyes twinkled.

  “For what? A Friday night in Monaco? I’ve never had better.”

  “No…” She looked away, as though the words she wanted were somewhere on the horizon. “I mean, for a virgin.”

  His heart stalled. Staring at her, he tried to figure out if this was one of her jokes. She was so sarcastic sometimes, even he didn’t pick up on it. “Oh, right.”

  Her grin widened. “I’m serious.”

  He shook his head. “No you’re not.”

  “I am.” Her eyebrows lifted. Earnestness shone in her face. “I was a virgin until I met you.”

  Her words echoed between his ears like a shout into a cave. “Wh—…how?”