by Adora Crooks
It’s no use. We’re trapped.
“Well,” Roland says jovially, “that can’t be good.”
18
Ben
The ball is in full tilt when the electricity goes out.
The air leaves the room in one collective gasp. The musicians skip a beat, and the song dies. The dancers go still. The whole room has gone dim, lit only by the candelabras stationed along the walls. It looks like a haunted Halloween house.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Roland. I swiftly push through the people until I get to the balcony. No sign of Roland or Rory out here. I duck back inside and scan the crowd, hunting for an edge of her red hair or his billowing white shirt—
Nothing. My one job was to keep an eye on him. Keep him safe. And I’ve lost him. I’ve lost the prince. All because I couldn’t keep my shit together around him.
I turn and run smack into my boss. Tanner composes himself quickly and neatly touches my chest with two fingers to halt me.
“Where’s the prince?” he asks immediately. His voice is curt, all business. We’re all on alert now.
I swallow and shake my head. “I looked away for a moment and… he slipped me…”
Tanner’s jawline tenses.
Queen Selena comes between us. “What the bloody hell is going on?” she hisses.
“We’re getting to the bottom of it now, ma’am,” Tanner says quickly. “Someone’s cut the power.”
“I can see that.” Even in the dark, her eyes flash with Pennington rage.
“We’ll need to evacuate you and your son and interview everyone that’s here.”
“Interrogate my guests? On the one day I get to dedicate to my husband? You’ll do no such thing.” The queen sighs. “It seems I have to do everything myself.”
“Ma’am—”
But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about the Pennington family, it’s that they’re stubborn and impossible to control. The queen slips through the bustling crowd and makes her way to the bandstand. Queen Selena lifts a microphone before she seems to remember that the electricity has been cut and tosses the thing to the side. The queen of England doesn’t need a microphone to get everyone’s attention. She lifts the hem of her dress and steps up onto the stage where the band remains still and quiet.
“Good evening, everyone!” She smiles out to the crowd. Immediately, all eyes are on her. The woman is the textbook definition of poise and grace. “I hope everyone’s enjoying the mood lighting.” A rumble of relieved laughter from the audience. The queen is in charge; the sheep are no longer anxious. “I want to thank you all for coming… it warms my heart to see this ball lit up—so to speak. Duncan loved gatherings like this. Any excuse to bring everyone together. It’s only appropriate that, ten years after his tragic passing, we come together to do exactly what he would’ve wanted: dance. Now, everyone, I implore you to remove your masks and take a moment to appreciate the one with you. Life is too short. You never know when a bright flame may be extinguished.”
Even as she speaks, her voice doesn’t shake and she never once loses composure. The woman is magnetic. Now, a smile brightens her face. “Now… enjoy the rest of the party. And dance!”
There’s applause all around. Finally—finally—the band starts back up again. The queen gracefully leaves the stage. Smile still intact, she comes over to us and addresses Tanner once more. “Find out what’s going on, but keep it quiet. I will not have Duncan’s memory blemished with a stampede of people fleeing the palace.”
With that, she leaves us. Her dress ripples behind her. The queen is an earthquake, and she leaves shock waves with each step.
“God bless the queen,” Tanner murmurs. His eyes flicker back to me, and he adds, “I’ll figure out who’s behind this. Go find the prince, for goodness’ sake.”
“Yes, sir.”
I dip out of the ballroom. A blast of frigid air kisses my sweat-dampened skin. The hallway is cast in a blue, low light. It’s strange to see the palace dark like this, and the whole thing sends a shiver through me. I feel for my gun. It hangs solidly at my hip. If this is a coup, the prince is in trouble. I need to find him. Immediately.
I lift my cell to call Roland and see that I’ve missed a text from him.
* * *
[txt: Roland] Your presence is required. My room. Stat.
* * *
Relief filters through my bloodstream. Mystery solved. I put my phone up and move swiftly down the darkened halls to the prince’s bedroom.
19
Roland
My fireplace is gaslit. Even with the power down, all I have to do is stick a lighter to it and it whooshes to life. The orange and yellow flames crackle over the ceramic replica logs.
“That should do it.” I get to my feet and glance back at Rory. “Better?”
She pokes her hands out of the insides of her robe to give me a thumbs-up. Well. My robe. It’s crimson red, velvet soft, and it has my initials, R.P., stitched into the chest pocket. It swallows her. I lent it to her thinking it would make her more comfortable, but now she looks like a wilted rose.
I ease down on the edge of the bed beside her and move my hand to the small of her back. Her fiery hair droops down the sides of her round face, and the fireplace light gives her skin a honeyed glow. I want to hold her close. Wrap my arms around her. Protect her. “Are you all right?” I ask gently.
“Oh, yeah, totally.” She cocks a half grin, but I can tell she’s putting it on. “I’ve always dreamed that one day I’d be locked up in a dark palace while there’s potentially an armed killer running around the premises.”
I exhale a breath of a laugh. “It’s funny. For years, my mother implanted this boogeyman image in my brain. According to her, there’s always an assassin right around the corner, waiting to strike as soon as I part the curtains a little too wide.”
Those moon eyes meet mine. “How does it feel to have your worst fears realized?”
“Oddly refreshing.”
The corner of her mouth turns up, and her head tilts quizzically. Before she can ask any further questions, however, my bedroom door cracks open. Rory hastily tightens the robe over her chest.
Ben’s raven-dark hair peeks around the door.
“Took you long enough, mate,” I tell him.
Ben shoots me a sharp look. He squeezes through the small gap in the door as though he’s stepping behind enemy lines.
Rory and I shout simultaneously: “Ben, don’t—!”
But we don’t get the words out before the door clicks shut behind him. Rory sighs and murmurs, “—shut the door.”
“What?” Ben intones, incredibly confused.
I point to the door. “It locks behind you. No doubt, one of my mother’s infinitely paranoid safety measures.”
Ben tries the door—of course he does; he’s a tactile person, and he has to touch it for himself—but naturally it doesn’t budge under even his strong arms. I see the line of his lips thin in frustration.
“Your mother put in an automatic safety latch—”
“I gathered that,” I interrupt him. “Now how do we get out of it?”
Ben lifts his phone and taps his fingers over the screen. “I’ll phone Tanner.”
I curl a leg up. “Put it on speaker.”
Ben steps over and barely perches himself on the edge of the mattress. He makes no comment about my lack of shirt or Rory’s obvious nakedness under my robe. Instead, he stares ahead with blank eyes until the ringing stops.
“Yes?” Tanner, curt, to the point.
“I found Roland,” Ben says into the bottom of his phone. “He was in his room. The safety protocol engaged, and we’re locked in.”
“Probably the safest place for him to be right now, then. Hang tight until we get this all sorted. Are you two alone?”
“Rory’s here.”
“Does the girl check out?”
My jaw clenches. I know it’s his job to question everyone and everything, but I f
eel a vicious urge rearing up to defend my girlfriend. “Yes,” I say, barely curbing my anger. “Rory is the last person you have to worry about. How’s my mum?”
“She’s well guarded,” Tanner assures me. My blood still fizzles and pops with worry. I’m trapped in this room, safely, and my mother is… still outside. Still vulnerable. If this is, in fact, a coup and they’re after anyone… they’re going after my mum first.
“Don’t let her leave your sight,” I order. “Not for a second.”
“Yes, Your Highness. Keep your phone close, Tolle. We’ll come collect you once we’re clear up here.”
“Yes, sir. Copy.”
Ben ends the call and tucks his phone back in his trousers.
“What now?” Rory asks. Her timid voice breaks the solid pond of silence.
“Who’s up for a game of Connect Four?” I joke. Humor has always been my favorite crutch.
Ben, however, is not playing. He stands quickly, as though he’s been bitten by a snake, and paces across toward the fireplace, away from us. “Tanner told us to wait,” he says, his voice a flat monotone. “So we wait.”
I know Ben. I know when he’s brooding. It’s incredibly unlike him. Sure, we’re in the middle of a potentially dangerous situation—but that’s the point. Ben loves this sort of thing. High stakes. Adrenaline. It sharpens him. I swear, he throws me to the ground every time so much as a bird hits the window.
So moping, huffing… no. That’s not like Ben.
I broach the subject amicably. “What’s up your arse now?”
Ben snaps, “Just because you’re talking to me now doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been a right prick all day.”
The words leave him in a flurry, as though he’s been waiting all day to let them out. Perhaps he has a point. I did ignore him all day, and now that we’re in trouble, all sins are pardoned. I only find myself reaching for him when I need him, like a boy who refuses to be weaned off a comfort blanket.
“You’re right,” I tell him and flash him a cheeky grin. “C’mon, mate. Let’s kiss and make up.”
Ben turns away from me at that. The shadows in the room darken his expression, but I can hear his bitter growl. He’s not amused.
I roll my eyes. “Fine, kiss Rory, then.” I motion to her. My sweet, scrumptious, sacrificial lamb. “I know you want her.”
Who wouldn’t want her? Those lips are plump enough to break even in the dark. When her eyes meet mine, they go wide. But she can’t hide the way her thighs squeeze together, just so. My kitten wants to be licked.
“This is hardly the time,” Ben grumbles.
“What the hell else are we going to do?” I lift a hand and drop it on the mattress. “C’mon, Ben…”
20
Rory
Have a taste of my girl.”
My heart is pounding. I shouldn’t like being on display like this, sold to the highest bidder. But I do. I’d give it to either of these hunks for free, but they have a grudge, an axe to bury, and I wouldn’t mind if they buried it in me.
Ben stalks over and stops in front of me. I’m magnetized, my blood thrumming. He takes the knot on my robe in his hand, but then his arm goes still.
Those dark eyes meet mine. “Rory.” It’s a word—just my name—but the way he says it, the questioning look in his expression, I know what this is. He’s asking me for permission. He won’t take me without my consent… prince’s orders or not.
My heart flutters and I wet my lips. “Please,” I beg. My throat is dry with lust, and my voice cracks. “I want it.”
The knot comes undone and the ribbon slithers off my waist. My robe parts freely at the middle now. I’m exposed, but I don’t try to cover myself. Especially not when Ben is looking at me like that, taking me in with those deep pools.
“Well?” Roland says impatiently. “What do you think?”
As though he’s taught his pet a new trick. Sit. Stay. Spread your legs.
Ben’s eyes find mine. “She’s beautiful.”
I bite my lip. He unpins my pink flesh from my teeth with his thumb and kisses me. I part for him immediately, both my lips and my legs.
Ben peels back and lowers himself to his knees in front of me. My pussy throbs in response. He’s trained me like Pavlov’s dog. I remember just how well he can use his tongue.
Sure enough, when he rolls my panties from my thighs and presses his tongue flat against my sex, I swear I see heaven. I whimper and arch into his mouth as he licks me. The rough facial hair on his jaw prickles my thighs. His hands brace on my knees, holding them apart.
Roland finds a place behind me. He slips the robe off my arms, and his lips trail wet kisses down my neck and shoulders. I’m trapped between two beautiful, dominating men, hungry to spoil me with their mouths and hands and everything. Last time, I got scared and shoved them off. This time, I melt into their touches and sigh, savoring every second.
Too soon, Ben lifts his head from between my legs. He wipes his arm across his mouth, but even that doesn’t catch all of my arousal. Some of it glistens off his scruff, and I swallow hard. Holy hell. I’m sopping wet.
In one swift movement, Ben rips off his blazer and the white shirt underneath it. “Flip over,” he tells me.
Gone is the awkward bodyguard from the ball. The man who looked uncomfortable in his own skin. Here, in charge, Ben is in his element.
I do as he says and roll over. My movements are sluggish and clumsy, my legs like rubber underneath me. I get on my hands and knees on the bed.
I’m practically in Roland’s lap now. He cups my face and sifts his fingers through my hair. His eyes scrutinize me. “Are you okay, love?” he asks, checking in.
I let out a small noise, half a laugh, half a whimper. “More than okay,” I purr.
He grins. “Good.” I feel Ben stall behind me. Those strong, calloused hands grip my hips and then cup over my round ass. “Our pet has a nice bum, doesn’t she?” Roland says, looking over my shoulder.
“Yes, sir,” Ben responds.
I can tell from his tone that the sir is reflexive—less a pecking order here, more an unbreakable habit.
“Spank her,” Roland tells him.
Before I can register what’s about to happen, Ben’s palm smacks my ass. I gasp. I’ve never been spanked before. Hell, I’ve never been in the middle of two ravenous men before. Yet it all feels so natural somehow. I feel red-hot heat crawl up my neck and explode on my cheeks.
Roland laughs and it’s this beautiful airy sound that brushes against my ear and sends shivers through my whole body. “I think she liked that, mate.” He uses his grip on my hair like a handle, pulling my neck back so I can look at him. “You did, didn’t you, kitten?”
“Yes,” I croak. I’m dumb with lust. I can barely speak.
Roland’s eyes dance as they focus on Ben. “Do it again.”
He smacks my ass again. Ben’s hand is like a goddamn plank of wood. He does it again and again. At first, my behind stings with sharp pain, but then the pain turns into tingling, and the tingles to a low burn. I moan as another heavy swing hits my bottom, only this time I rock back into his palm when he tries to pull it away.
I’m dripping down my thighs. I can feel it. I need someone inside of me.
As if he knows, Ben pushes a finger inside of me. I gasp loudly and push back against his finger. I feel him insert a second finger, and then they curve, stroking my inner walls.
“You enjoy the way Ben fingers you, love?” Roland coaxes. He strokes my hair back, which feels both soothing and possessive all at once.
“Yes,” I whimper.
Roland’s other hand travels over my chest, and he catches my hard nipple between his fingers. I yelp as he rolls it and tugs. His ministrations on my breasts make me throb around Ben’s fingers. It clicks now. Roland and Ben—they’re damn good on their own, but together? They’re in sync, a perfectly tuned instrument. They move like one until I’m a doughy, pliable sex kitten. My endorphins are shooting
off like crazy, sending sparks of pleasure through me. They’ve got me at their mercy, and I would do anything they wanted.
With Ben’s fingers deep inside of me, Roland petting my hair, caressing my tits… it’s overwhelming. I cry out and suddenly my body clamps down on Ben’s fingers. I’m in the throes of an orgasm before I even knew I was close, and Ben and Roland are coaxing it from me, kissing my bare skin, touching me. Every inch of me feels loved. I melt into their adoring hands as I shudder with every throb.
“Good girl,” Roland keeps saying, over and over.
Two men. Two rock-hard cocks. And they can’t stop pleasing me. I’ve never had anything like this before. Ever.
I’m still pulsing when Ben growls, “Tell me what you need.”
“I need you inside of me,” I gasp. Then I draw my fingers down Roland’s chest, his stomach, and paw at his belt. “And you.”
“Greedy little pet.” Roland grins. “Be careful what you wish for, love.”
With that, Roland gets up and stands behind me, beside Ben. I hear the click of their belts, the hiss of their zippers.
“What do you say?” Roland challenges. “Last one to blow gets to cum down her throat.”
“You’re on,” Ben growls.
I shouldn’t be this turned on by the way they’re competing over me, but… I am.
When I look up, I can see that there’s a long, full-length mirror propped on the wall across from me. I almost don’t recognize myself at first. It looks like there’s some sex-crazed wild woman in the prince’s bed. My red hair is frizzy and insane—literally insane, like I’ve stepped off the set of a Tim Burton movie. My lips are swollen, my face is flushed, eyes lidded and makeup smeared.
My eyes focus on the men standing behind me. Ben reaches into the cupboard beside Roland’s bed, pulls out two condoms, and tosses one to Roland. They’re naked, completely, and I wonder not for the first time tonight how I managed to steal two Adonises.
