The Princess Finds Her Match

by de Borja, Suzette

  His tone was savage. “Wainwright took advantage of you.”

  “I was a naïve fool,” her lips twisted wryly.

  Nic remembered reading that Peter Wainwright had been fifteen years older than Lexie. He recalled a photo of a heartbreakingly young Lexie taken at the coronation. The local press blamed her for grandmother’s death. “It’s a very good thing Wainwright is dead or I’d have to kill him again.”

  The air became charged with electric tension at the primitive protectiveness in his voice.

  Lexie felt a sexual thrill skitter up her spine. She swallowed uncertainly, sensing a delicious, heady kind of danger in the room. She babbled on. “I would have done more damage, but he was screaming like a baby and that would have attracted attention−“

  The last thing Lexie thought she heard was something in Spanish that she roughly translated as “So help me God” and “bloodthirsty witch” before his lips claimed hers in a searing kiss.

  Lexie flopped back down on the bed as Nic’s delicious weight pushed her down. His open mouth was on hers and she reciprocated wholeheartedly, letting him in. Lexie clutched his hair, his shoulders, her legs accommodating his hips. They surfaced for air for a few seconds.

  “Stop me, rojita,” he rasped in a tortured voice. “You and I…it’s not going to end well.”

  All her life she tried to be proper. Every action was edited, calculated. Since Peter and the scandal, she had tried to be the perfect princess her family wanted. Nothing was spontaneous until she didn’t even know where the faking ended and her unedited self started. Not until that night in Las Vegas. Not until this man came into her life. And by God, she was not stopping what was going to happen even if her life depended on it.

  “No fucking way,” she growled, shoving a startled Nic away. Unbalanced, he landed on his back with a grunt. Lexie quickly straddled him, but his hands on her waist held her firm. “All my life I was never given a choice. A princess never shows emotion. A princess should be an example. A princess is always polite, but with one foolish mistake, the whole world got front row tickets to my stupidity. To hell with any of them.” Her voice was harsh and she didn’t recognize it. “The only mistake I regret was walking away from you that morning. And this time I’m going to do something about it.” She enunciated each word clearly. “Tonight, I am going to fuck you.”

  She started unbuttoning her blouse, her fingers trembling but her cat eyes never leaving Nic’s. Entranced, he could only lie helpless while this siren with her titian waves ensorcelled him. It was as if the air grew thin. Nic felt he couldn’t get enough oxygen, and it was only his self-control that stopped him from jerking off as he caught sight of her pert breasts and tight nipples. With trembling fingers, he fitted his palms over them then ran his thumbs over the peaked buds. It wasn’t enough.

  “Grab the headboard,” he ordered with a hint of roughness. Lexie did as she was told, hitching herself higher on his body. Nic groaned as her heat landed right on top of his groin. He hadn’t even noticed that she had removed her trousers a while back. “And no matter what, don’t let go. Just hang on tight.”

  She nodded obediently, and if he weren’t in so much sexual pain, he would have smiled at her easy acquiescence. Nic was so hard he had to slow down and let Lexie catch up. Leaning forward, she did as she was told and her position brought her breasts at level with his mouth. Perfect. His tongue darted out and flicked at one nipple. She jerked as if a lash had whipped her.

  “So responsive, rojita,” he murmured huskily, and it was the last sentence he uttered before he devoted his entire focus on her nipples. Sucking, swirling his tongue, nipping. Her throaty moans threatened to sabotage Nic’s control. He eased her hips up on him and unzipped his denims, gripping his hardness. She was now on her knees, still gripping the headboard, her eyes closed, her mouth half-open. Later there would be time for that mouth. Nic continued working her nipple, fisting his hardness in rhythm. His other hand reached out to cup her between her legs. He groaned. She was soaking wet. Sliding her knickers to the side, he slid a finger into her slick heat and found her nub. His mouth, his fist, his finger were relentless in their quest for her pleasure. Lexie’s increasingly frantic moans told him she was close. With a flick and a twist, she screamed, her hips bucked, her legs squeezing tightly, trapping his hand before she crumpled to the bed. With a hoarse grunt, Nic followed her into his release.

  “Oh, God. I feel like overcooked pasta,” she blurted.

  Nic laughed weakly. “We’ve only just begun, rojita.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Her voice was glum, but Nic could hear the smile in it. “Just don’t expect me to participate in the next round. I haven’t recovered yet. You have to do all the work.”

  “It would be my pleasure to pleasure you, Your Highness.” He chucked off all his clothes in a few efficient movements. She saw him fumble and rustle through his jeans. He murmured something in satisfaction then turned to her and covered her with his lean, athletic body. “Now where were we?”

  “Round two?”

  He silenced her cheekiness by thrusting his tongue into her mouth once more. He broke away to say, “Hold on to the headboard, rojita.”

  “Again?” she murmured in token protest.

  “You did say I had to do all the work.” When Nic parted her legs and bent down to do as told, Lexie hung on for dear life.

  “Damnfuckshit,” was her litany of pleasure as her toes curled and she wavered between closing her thighs and letting Nic have his wicked way with her. He didn’t give her any choice as he cupped her bottom and parted her legs wider, spread out for his pleasure. “Damnfuckshhhiiiiit!” she screamed as she crested on the peak of ecstasy, her knuckles white from gripping the headboard ferociously. Her head started spinning and little tremors were still convulsing her body when Nic reared on his haunches, his eyes raking her hungrily. He tore off a foil packet and sheathed himself with a condom.

  With one powerful thrust, they were joined. Lexie couldn’t stop the involuntary gasp that escaped her lips from the pain of his possession. They were a very tight fit.

  “You’re a virgin?” he ceased moving, looking straight into her eyes.

  “Does it matter?” she asked in a small voice. She knew she should have told him, but she wanted this so much and feared he would have stopped due to some sense of honor.

  “I’d be lying if I told you it didn’t, rojita. I’m a selfish bastard and I’m glad that I’m your first.” Even if I’m not going to be your last. It hung unsaid, but it was as if he had voiced the words out loud.

  She couldn’t bear the bleakness in his eyes. “Make love to me, Nic,” she pleaded, and Nic needed no further urging. He was careful at first, sliding in and out of her with careful strokes, but Lexie didn’t want him to hold back. She wanted fierce, she wanted rough, she wanted all-consuming. She wanted everything she could get tonight from a man she could never have.

  * * *

  Nic woke up to the sound of running feet muted on the carpet. Before he could react, the door to the bedroom was thrown wide open and Blair walked in. Stopping midstride, her jaw unhinged and fell slack. Nic raised a finger to his lips and glanced at the sleeping figure beside him. Thankfully, the duvet around their hips gave them some form of modesty. Smirking, Blair backtracked and carefully shut the door behind her.

  A hand shot out under the covers to push tousled titian locks off her face.

  “What time is it?” came the grumpy query.

  Nic glanced at his Rolex. “It’s seven-thirty.” He braced himself for the predictable morning-after panic attack. The irony wasn’t lost on him. In the past, he was the one who couldn’t get out of a post hook-up fast enough.

  Her Royal Highness surfaced out of the covers in delicious disarray, her hazel eyes bleary eyed from lack of sleep. Hell, she looked way too beautiful in the morning in a way he wasn’t prepared for, all creamy, soft and dewy skin. He felt himself growing harder than he already was.

 
Nic’s abdominal muscles tensed in anticipation of the look of horror that would wipe away her lethargy once she remembered what they had been doing all night. Knowing that rejection would be forthcoming wouldn’t lessen the pain. Even if he armored himself against it, she would always find that chink where she could stab him with the power she wielded over him. Again and again.

  Clutching the duvet to her breasts, she blinked owlishly at him. “Oh good,” she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep. “You’re still here.” She was studying his chest with seeming fascination. “I thought you were just a very, very wet dream I was having.”

  His bark of laughter seemed to confuse her as little furrows appeared between her eyebrows. “You can pinch me to check if I’m real.” She hesitated. “Or I can pinch you here.” His hand reached out to dive under the covers and between her legs.

  Nic groaned at the way her legs automatically fell apart to give him access. Just one lick, one taste, he promised himself, then he would stop, but then she made that throaty little sound of pleasure and everything quickly spun out of control. His PR agent was going to have his head if he arrived at the shoot late. He was fucked either way, Nic thought, so better that he made the most out of the situation now.

  * * *

  They arrived at the studio fifteen minutes late.

  Lexie couldn’t believe she had agreed to come to the photo shoot with him, but her mouth had already said “yes” before her brain caught up and flashed danger signals that she was getting too close. Act first, think later would seem to be her default mode around this man. After a quick shower and change of clothes, with Nic wearing the same clothes from the night before, they made their way to famous celebrity photographer Priscilla Dux’s studio in West Hollywood.

  Priscilla was tall, gorgeous, and charming. Lexie learned that she had been a model before deciding to be the one behind the lens.

  “My apologies, Pris,” she heard Nic apologizing as they bussed each other on the cheek. Quickly, Lexie shut the lid on her jealousy like it was Pandora’s box itself. Who knew what complicated, messy things might come out if she didn’t keep a close guard on that box? “We were held up by traffic.”

  Priscilla’s smile held as Nic made the introductions. She was sure the photographer’s keen eye for details hadn’t missed out on her still-damp hair gathered in a ponytail and Nic’s overnight stubble and rumpled clothes.

  “I have a copy of the coffee table book you did on Seirenada, Your Highness. Would you mind signing it for me later?”

  Lexie blushed. “It would be my pleasure.”

  “I didn’t know you had written a book,” Nic said oddly.

  Lexie shot him a warning glance. “Of course you wouldn’t, because I didn’t write it. I just took the photos. And I didn’t show you because they’re amateurish.”

  “Her Highness is being modest. Her landscapes are very evocative of Seirenada. It makes me want to drop everything, take off and visit your country,” she mock whispered. ”Of course, it’ll have to be after I finish the Holdener ad campaign for which they’re paying me an obscene amount of money.”

  “You are most welcome to visit anytime, Miss Dux.” Lexie was starting to like the brassy photographer.

  Priscilla beamed, pleased. She then turned to Nic. “Nic, kindly go with my assistant Trey so he can fix you up and make you more gorgeous than you already are. Trey,” she addressed the nattily dressed young man who was eyeing Nic like candy, “don’t slip on your drool on the way to the dressing room.”

  Trey pointed to his shoes. “Rubber-soled and skid-free,” he threw over his shoulder cheekily, leading a smiling Nic to the dressing room to the side of the studio.

  Priscilla and Lexie shared a laugh.

  The photo shoot was for the well-known Swiss luxury watch Holdener, whose ads regularly featured top athletes in different fields. While Priscilla’s other photo assistant made last-minute checks to the equipment, Priscilla introduced her to the art director for the shoot and the country manager of the watch company. Lexie made small talk and asked Priscilla if she wouldn’t get in the way of the shoot.

  “I’m sure Nic would love to have you as inspiration,” Priscilla winked.

  Lexie’s breath left in a whoosh when Nic, all spiffed up wearing a dark coat and tie with a white shirt, emerged from the dressing room. His stubble was miraculously shaved and his dark waves were brushed off his face, showing off his defined facial structure. He seemed relaxed and she recalled from her research that he had done several ads before. Occasionally, his eyes flicked to the dark corner where she sat on a stool, content to watch from the sidelines as Nic smiled in front of the camera.

  “Your Highness, if you don’t mind, could you stand beside me while I take this last series of shots?” Priscilla asked some thirty minutes later.

  Lexie wondered at the strange request. She turned to Nic questioningly and he shrugged. Wanting to be a team player, she agreed.

  “Trey, could you loosen up Nic’s tie a bit? Nic, you’re supposed to look like you’re undressing with your hands on your tie. Very Fifty Shades of Grey vibe and at the same time showing off your Holdener watch. I want you to smolder. ”

  “Smolder?” Nic echoed blankly.

  Because she was female, her mind quickly connected the dots even before Priscilla spoke. “Eye sex. Your motivation is right beside me.”

  As comprehension dawned, a slow wicked smile lit up his face. Lexie was sure her face was redder than her hair. “You okay with this, rojita?” he murmured in Spanish.

  She nodded, not really sure where this was heading. The minute she gave her consent, Nic speared her with a hot, hungry look she had seen only an hour ago. In the bedroom. Where it should have stayed. In private. Lexie started to feel a bit warm.

  “Sexy beast,” Priscilla muttered, clicking away. “I’m almost sorry I’m batting for the other team.”

  Lexie coughed. Nic broke character in amusement at her reaction. “That’s it, but wipe off the smile,” Priscilla instructed. “Heavy on the sex, light on the romance.”

  “If you say so.”

  Lexie braced herself for the onslaught. Nic’s heavy-lidded gaze pinned her with devastating intensity. His electric blue eyes shifted from her hazel ones down to her lips. Her mouth went dry and she licked her lips, watching Nic’s eyes flare with heat at the unconscious action. Other parts of Lexie were starting to kindle. She crossed her arms to hide her nipples, which must be surely poking through her dress.

  “Are you wet for me, rojita?” he murmured again in Spanish, his eyes daring her to respond.

  Oh, shit! Lexie tucked a few strands of loose tendrils behind her ear with unsteady fingers while surreptitiously glancing around to see if anybody understood what the wicked man had just said.

  Priscilla was clicking away, the photo assistant hovering by the sidelines. Trey had disappeared and the art director and country manager appeared to be in deep conversation.

  “What do you think?” she shot back with more bravado than she was feeling.

  “Let’s find out.” Nic stepped forward from the studio backdrop and grabbed her hand. In her fevered state, Lexie hadn’t realized the shoot had ended. He yanked her hand and pulled her inside the dressing room. He shut the door and locked it with a decisive click.

  “Nic!” She started backing off at the dangerous glint in his eyes.

  He tugged off his tie, tossing it on a chair carelessly.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed frantically, keeping her voice low as he started undoing the buttons on his shirt. The room was small with a wheeled dress rack and a table with a Hollywood mirror and chair. His pants came down next and he kicked it to one side. She swallowed at his enormous erection.

  “Strip,” he commanded in a low, dangerous voice.

  She had really meant to say no. Honest. “H –here?” she stammered. “N−now?”

  “Here and now.” His eyes were blazing with wicked sexual heat and Lexie feared she
would start combusting spontaneously.

  “Won’t they know what we’re doing in here?”

  His jaw was tight and his eyes looked almost wild. He wasn’t moving though, waiting for her to make that leap. “I don’t fucking care.”

  Oh, God. The F word. She didn’t really have any choice in the matter. Trembling she reached for the back of her dress and unzipped it. The shift dress fell to her feet, leaving her in her underwear, gartered stockings, and shoes. She heard Nic groan as he quickly grabbed her by the waist and fastened his lips to hers, his tongue plunging and tangling with hers. Lexie’s knees buckled and Nic guided them clumsily to the chair, their mouths still locked in a torrid kiss. Nic’s erection fit exactly in her wet, pantied crotch.

  “Turn around, Lexie,” he said, pulling his mouth away from hers with reluctance.

  “Wh−what?” she asked stupidly. Her neurons could not process what she was hearing.

  Nic held her by the waist and spun her around so her back was pressed to his chest. She started to protest but was suddenly mesmerized by their reflection on the bright mirror surrounded by light bulbs. She watched as Nic removed her bra and replaced it with his hands, cupping her breasts, his tanned skin in contrast with her pale one. She felt him kissing her back and realized he was kissing her tattoo.

  “Oh my God,” she groaned when he started tugging on her nipples, pinching them with his index fingers and thumbs, setting up a rhythm that went straight between her legs. He started sucking on an earlobe and Lexie almost came right then.

  “Not yet, rojita,” he whispered huskily as his hands came up under her thighs and lifted them. “Place your feet on the table and spread your legs wide.”

  Should she be worried how shameless she was behaving? Maybe later, but not now when she couldn’t even believe how much she wanted Nic to do those wicked, wanton things she could be shamefaced about post−sex.