Forbidden Prince

by Zoey Oliver

  “He’s just, you know… he’s a friend. Remember? We practically grew up together.”

  “You didn’t just grow up together, Ava. He was your first crush, wasn’t he? Your ideal man candy? Please tell me you didn’t just burn your V-card right there, playing hooky this afternoon. Please! Tell me you did not!”

  “I didn’t,” I protest. “I swear to God, I didn’t. But the idea did occur to me…”

  I can’t finish the thought. Images race through my mind, setting my skin on fire with what I’m sure is a bright, obvious blush. My insides twang, reminiscent of the orgasm I just had on the boat. I feel ready to come all over again, suddenly awake and alive everywhere.

  “Whooo, girl,” Bea says softly. “What is happening to you? You still got it bad for him?”

  “Jeez, I don’t know,” I shrug, pretending to be unsure even while my body seems to have already made up its mind. “I mean, would that be so bad? Ethan is totally a player. This is our last summer before real life, real jobs, real responsibilities… I mean if I was going to have a perfect summer fling, not something serious but something fun, wouldn’t he be it?”

  “There is no such thing as a perfect summer fling, Ava,” she scowls wisely, even though I know her information is totally coming from YouTube serials and trashy romance novels. “He’ll break your heart. He will. He’s a known womanizer.”

  “I’m not offering my heart, Bea,” I snap. “I’m just offering up my, you know, lady bits. For a little fun in the sun. Like today…”

  She leans forward, keenly interested. “Yeah, so if you weren’t at the pool, where were you?”

  “He took me out on his boat. His yacht,” I confess, my words coming out in a conspiratorial rush. I see her lips pop open in surprise, with a little noise like a bubble bursting.

  “He what? You guys just… just like that? Just went on a yacht ride?”

  “Can you believe it? Doesn’t that sound totally outrageous?”

  “Oh, girl,” she sighs, fanning herself dramatically. “Well, maybe I need to rethink my position on this. I mean, if you’re going to go all Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, maybe a summer fling isn’t such a bad idea after all.”

  “That’s what I’m saying!”

  “And you’re sure, absolutely sure, that you can keep it light? No strings? No heartache?”

  I wave my hand in the air dismissively and roll my eyes. “Shoot. If anybody’s going to be breaking anybody’s heart, I’m gonna break his. This is strictly for research and educational purposes. That’s it.”

  Bea stands up, walking to the French doors that lead out onto our private patio, shifting her weight from hip to hip, sort of looking in silhouette like some French director’s idea of a thoughtful, college-age woman.

  Now that she’s not looking at me, my fatigue returns. I crawl up onto the bed, sliding along it diagonally until my muscles just begin to sink into the luxurious down.

  “Your phone,” she tells me. “It’s ringing. Here it is.”

  I feel my bag land on the mattress next to me and fumble in it blindly until my fingers find the cool plastic case.

  “Thanks,” I mumble as she leaves, apparently satisfied by my obvious display of fatigue.

  I’ve got three missed texts from my brother. My eyes don’t quite focus right for a few seconds, but just before I fall asleep, the words sort of piece themselves together.

  Ethan is at the conference.

  Stay away from him.

  Stay away.

  Chapter Seven

  ETHAN

  As I wake up, I dream of Ava wrapping her thighs around my hand, grinding her hips against me until she comes, her lips pink and parted, her eyes half closed. Her hair falls back over her bare shoulders as she sighs my name.

  I’m always hard in the morning, but today feels like it might just break off. Ava never really left my mind, I guess. And now that I’ve had a taste of her, I only want more.

  My hand slides down my body, unconsciously seeking my hard-on and wrapping around it. I’m not even all the way awake, but I wrap my fist around myself automatically, imagining her soft fingers, her full lips. Her little gasp, her, wet, pink…

  Fuck.

  I come immediately, right into the sheets, shuddering and twitching like an animal, like a teenager, like I had to do it. And as soon as I’m done, I’m ready to go again. I’m so thirsty for her, I wonder where will it end.

  Sliding out of bed, I automatically grab my phone and stare at it for a few seconds. I want to say something, but what am I supposed to say? Just now, I had a flash, an image of her in my private estate, just north of here. Among the evergreens, away from everyone, just the two of us. I wonder if she would go for that?

  I just want to get her away from everyone and have some peace and quiet, some time to explore. Maybe I can shake this crazy, feverish feeling. I like it and hate it, all at the same time.

  But I’m not sure she’d ever go for that. I’m pretty certain anyone in her family would rather see me drawn and quartered than making time with their little Ava.

  But, fuck it. I’m gonna try. I grab my phone to text her.

  Come to my room. Five minutes.

  Without even waiting for a response, I head into the bathroom for a quick shower. The water feels amazing on my skin, and I realize I’m still hard. If she’s on her way, though, I don’t really have time to beat off again.

  As I’m wrapping a towel around my waist, dripping in the middle of the bathroom, I hear her soft rap at the door. I can feel my smile, wide and triumphant.

  She’s being obedient, too. It’s good.

  When I open the door, her eyes widen immediately. I’m tempted to let the towel fall off me, but keep it tight in my fist, maybe just to draw out the suspense a little bit longer. Something about this feels so good; every little decision I make turns me on. Thinking about her first thing, coming up with a plan, getting her to my door, now watching her eyes skate across the water droplets on my chest. It’s all too perfect.

  “Come in,” I suggest. “You want coffee?”

  She nods mutely, stepping across the threshold with her tiny feet bound up in strappy orange sandals. The sherbet-colored dress is snug on her curvy hips, fluttering just under the beautiful swell of her ass cheeks. A sudden clenching my balls reminds me that I’ve still got that hard-on, and I think she might’ve noticed it too.

  I tuck the towel carefully around my thighs as I sit in the chair on the balcony, staring at her over the rim of my coffee cup as she sips daintily at her coffee, keeping her eyes carefully averted. She looks at the door, the coffee pot, the horizon. Anything but the obvious outline of my throbbing cock.

  “Will you come with me to Shelter Cove? I’ve got a beautiful house there.”

  She gasps, her lips opening and then closing into a hard line. I can tell she wants to go, but I know she needs to say no.

  “I’ve got an employment contract I need you to sign,” I smirk.

  She squints at me, uncertain, as though it might be some kind of a trap.

  “You’ve got a what?”

  “I just thought of it this morning,” I smile, enjoying the way she mirrors my smile, showing off those cute, deep dimples. “You came to this conference looking for a job, so let’s give you a job. Easy.”

  “Well, it’s not really that easy, is it? What, am I supposed to just tell Aden that I’m working for you? Do you think he’d really go for that?”

  Aden. Just hearing his name makes me feel… something. I don’t even know.

  “He would never even know. The contract will come from Century Group, one of my shells that does some kind of… something. Import/export, I think.”

  “You don’t know for sure?”

  She quirks one eyebrow at me. I have to smile, almost laugh. I remember that look, but the last time I saw it I think she was eighteen. Right before our families split. Maybe a couple years before. She always wanted to race me laps in the pool. I thought it was a good
idea not to get too close, but when she would dare me, it was always a temptation. I’d say no, and she’d raise one eyebrow, silently challenging everything I stood for.

  “My lawyers set them up. Shell companies are pretty standard at this level of business,” I explain. “But in any case, it won’t have my name anywhere on it. Here... I'll email you a contract right now. See? All done. You're officially my underling.””

  She smiles but then looks away, scanning the horizon for who knows what. I know she’s just thinking about the consequences. Thinking about what would happen if Aden found out, what her parents would say. Deep down, she’s really a very good girl, the same girl I always knew.

  “He knows you’re here,” she murmurs. Her soft voice gets caught in the wind and whipped back toward me. Even though we’re high above the bustling city sounds, I hear those words with absolute clarity.

  I swallow, hard.

  “We don’t have to tell him anything. This is just between us.”

  She turns back to me, pouting slightly. “Aden won’t see it that way,” she says, though she doesn’t really have to. I know she’s right. “And neither would my parents. Your family…”

  “I know,” I interrupt her.

  She scowls, flinching. I know that I should say something to reassure her, but I’m not really sure what there is to say. There’s nothing we can do.

  My parents and her parents had an arrangement to open a restaurant some years ago. My parents did what they do with money, which is creatively moving it from place to place. Her parents, with less experience, were surprised to find out how the real world works.

  They felt cheated somehow, but maybe they just didn’t understand each other. In any case, Aden picked a side, telling me one day that blood is thicker than water and cutting our friendship off at the knees.

  I was headed off for the Marines and so I thought I could step away for a while and it would blow over, but I didn’t really get a chance to check. And I guess it never did. Now he owns a different restaurant in a nice part of town. It looks really successful, though I’ve never been there. He should be over this; he really should.

  “Ava, I know we have some things to work out here. That’s not what I’m talking about. Their issues are for them to work out. I’m talking about taking a little break, for the summer. Just between us. For fun. We can sort out everything else as it comes. Do you trust me?”

  She takes a second to think, chewing on the inside of her cheek and blinking a few times. Finally she rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically.

  “God help me, Ethan Mercer, I do. I totally do trust you. Am I stupid?”

  I lean back in my chair, relieved.

  “If you ask me, you’re absolutely brilliant.”

  “Oh, you would say that!” she laughs, smacking my knee playfully. My towel spontaneously slides open, and I watch her eyes grow wide again.

  Something makes me stop. With any other girl, I’d take her by the shoulders and show her what I wanted. But Ava is different. For a moment I don’t know what she will do.

  But then she drops to her knees in front of me. Her trembling fingers lightly rest on my parted thighs as she stares transfixed by my cock, which is standing and ready. Her tongue slides along her lower lip, wetting it.

  She glances up at me, her eyes full of questions.

  “Yes, please,” I murmur.

  Slowly her hands slide toward my shaft, encircling it gently. I can feel the tremor in her fingertips. Has she never done this before?

  But I can’t ask. My breath is swept away when she opens her mouth and tentatively takes the tip of my cock against her hot, wet tongue. She sucks on it eagerly, rolling it around her mouth like a lollipop, lacing her fingers more tightly together.

  In moments I’m grinding against her, fighting the urge to bury myself in her throat. I barely hold back from pounding her sweet, newbie mouth as the urgency rises dramatically in me.

  Her moan vibrates my shaft, sending me immediately over the edge. My come takes her by surprise and she flinches back slightly but I hold on, throbbing and thrusting until my balls empty into her sweet, hot mouth.

  She holds me for another moment, then shyly retreats, her lips glistening with my seed. Relief and satisfaction wash through me like a dreamy mist and I remember my to-do list. Check.

  Chapter Eight

  Ava

  I stand in front of my open dresser drawers for what feels like forever, staring at the neat pile of panties and bras all stuck together like Russian nesting dolls. My suitcase is open on the desk next to me. I am definitely supposed to be packing, but my brain is filled with a sound like cicadas, sawing incessantly.

  What am I doing? Am I crazy?

  If I hurry, I can still get down to the ballroom for the last conference, the one on strategies for team-building in a new environment. That would be handy, right? I mean, I’ve never had a corporate job, so I don’t know anything about it. Even if Ethan’s offer is for real, and not just a handy excuse to make me his sex slave for the summer, I’m going to come in there completely strategy free, as far as teambuilding is concerned. That’s pretty irresponsible, isn’t it? In case he has a real job for me?

  Maybe I should go downstairs. At least check in.

  No. I’m being a chicken. I should put these panties into that luggage, and meet Ethan in his limo. That’s what any sane person would do.

  But somehow, I can’t make my hands do it. Finally, I just slap at my thighs in frustration and stomp off toward the bathroom, thinking maybe the change of scenery will somehow organize me into action here.

  The bathroom is still fairly put together. I see that maid service has brought me a fresh new stack of towels, new bottles of soap and shampoo, and a selection of moist towelettes in individual packets. You know what, I’m going to take these with me. Even if I don’t go with Ethan, these are definitely coming home with me. I just love things that come in little packages.

  When I come out of the bathroom, Bea is standing there, scowling at my luggage.

  She tips her head toward me, narrowing her eyes.

  “You realize you have come to approximately zero of the conference, right?” she huffs, arching her eyebrows dramatically. “You have gotten the zero rate of return on your investment, I just learned.”

  “Yeah, about that,” I start.

  “I mean, I just learned that,” she repeats meaningfully. “Just now. In the panel session I was at. The investments overview.”

  “Yeah, I get it, Bea.”

  “For people with jobs, who need to invest their income,” she continues, pretending not to hear me. "You know, who have salaries… that they need to invest…”

  “I kind of do have a job,” I mumble.

  She takes a step toward me, her arms floating up from her sides as though lifted by an invisible wind.

  “Excuse me? You have a what? How is that possible since you have not given out a single resume since we’ve been here, Ava?”

  I shrug, looking away. She’s about to figure it out, any second, but I don’t want her reading it all over my face. “Oh, you know, it’s really nothing. Just an internship.”

  Bea walks in a small circle, looking around my room. She points suddenly at my luggage and the open drawer.

  “Wait, so you’re really leaving?” she asks incredulously. “Like, you’re leaving early? You’re just done?"”

  I meet her eyes and see her face change immediately.

  “Oh,” she sighs. “Ethan gave you a ‘job.’”

  “Yeah, I’m supposed to pack up. We’re leaving.”

  “Just like that?”

  She shrugs, then glances up at the ceiling, then glances in the mirror. She seems to weigh the situation in her mind and finally holds her hand out in front of her like she’s balancing knowledge in the pit of her palm.

  “Well aren’t you just the luckiest job seeker in the whole world?” she sniffs. “Make sure you Instagram the whole thing, okay? Does he have a private je
t or something?”

  “Oh, well, I don’t know about that…”

  “I bet he totally has a private jet,” she says to herself, strolling over to the long line of brightly lit windows and dropping into the club chair, crossing her legs with a flourish.

  “He probably has several jets. A guy with a yacht in the San Francisco Bay probably also has jets… cars… houses? Where is he taking you?”

  I creep back over to the dresser, feeling just about ready to pack again. Bea doesn’t seem alarmed by the situation at all. This is not what I was expecting.

  “Yeah, it doesn’t matter,” she muses. “I mean, if he takes you to Houston or Philadelphia or Miami or even LA, what’s the difference?”

  Yeah, what’s the difference? I ask myself. I’ve already sort of signed on, pretty much convinced myself that the summer fling is the best possible thing for me, even without the ruse of a supposed job offer. Does it matter what city I end up in? It doesn’t really matter what my internship is or isn’t. I’m just going with the flow. Just being breezy, carefree Ava.

  “You know, I can see this. I actually like this side of you,” Bea says as though she’s reading my mind. “Usually you’re so…”

  I pick up the stack of panties, letting it hover over the luggage before dropping them in.

  “I’m usually so… what?”

  “You know,” she shrugs. “Uptight.”

  “Hey!” I protest. “I’m not uptight. That is not nice to say at all. I’m just the right amount of… tight.”

  “A twenty-two-year-old virgin is definitely uptight, Ava,” she informs me wryly. She might have a point, but it is still not a nice thing to say. “You know, if you let your guard down a little, you might enjoy it. And like you said before, Ethan is the perfect man to practice with. Free and easy. No strings.”

  I open up another drawer, removing a small stack of T-shirts and some fluttery, wraparound skirts.