My heart beats furiously in my chest, but heat surges between my legs. Bending over, I place my palms flat on the table next to the diamond necklace and long gloves that have been carefully laid out for me. Behind me, Max pushes up the silky, appropriate, sweet little bridesmaid dress, his hands skimming over my ass cheeks. "Careful," I warn him. "This is some expensive, custom-made, silk designer thing."
"You know my history with you and designer dresses," he growls. "Now spread your legs so I can see that perfect pussy." When he reaches between my legs, he discovers just how wet I really am. "Look at you, trying to be good and telling me I should leave, when you're dripping for me."
He slides his fingers along my slit to demonstrate, and I push my fingertips against the surface of the desk as I try to stifle a moan. "Does the idea of me fucking you right here in your bridesmaid dress, with your new stepmother outside, turn you on?" he asks. "She'd have a heart attack if she knew what dirty things you were going to do in this precious little dress."
It's so wrong, but it definitely turns me on.
Max slides his fingers inside me, spreading me and teasing me, as I try to focus on not letting a single sound escape my lips. I can hear every movement of his fingers, coated in my wetness, the sound amplified to my ears. When he presses the tip of his cock to my entrance, his skin bare and warm against me, I think I'm going to come already.
"Fuck, I love your bare little cunt," he whispers in my ear, sending goose bumps all over my body. "I love how wet you are and how tight you are. I want to fill this little pussy up with my cum and send you out of here to that fitting with me dripping from between your legs."
Oh, shit.
The thought makes me whimper out loud. I immediately bite down on my lip hard as my blood pounds in my ears. Neither of us can afford to be outed like this, but I'm so overcome by lust, I can't think rationally.
The crinkle of the condom wrapper is deafening, and I whirl around, putting my hand on his. "No condom," I whisper, my need desperate. "I'm on the pill anyway, and I'm clean."
This isn't a conversation we should be having right here in barely audible whispers in the middle of a faux dressing room – outside of which everyone is buzzing around loudly, seemingly oblivious to us.
Hopefully, they're completely oblivious.
Max growls softly, pulling me against him. "Are you sure?" he asks. "I'm clean too."
"I'm sure."
I barely finish whispering the words before he's spinning me back around, his hands on mine as he bends me over and places my palms on the table. He yanks up the back of my skirt, his hardness pressing against my thigh. His pre-cum leaks onto my skin and the thought of him coming inside me right here, him dripping out of me, turns me on so much I can't think about anything else.
"Fuck, I wanted the first time I was bare inside you to be special," he groans, his voice tight. "Not bending you over like this. But you drive me crazy."
My pussy throbs, begging for release. Begging for him. "Please," I whisper. "Fuck me."
Outside, Sofia calls loudly, "Alexandra, did you say something?"
"It's Alex!" I yell, but then I'm distracted by Max spreading my ass cheeks and sliding his cock inside my wet pussy. He lets out a low groan, and I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder, my eyes big. "Shhh…"
"Do you need any help?" Sofia calls.
"You need help getting off, don't you, sweetheart?" Max whispers as he thrusts inside me. "You needed this, didn't you?"
"Yes," I moan loudly, then clear my throat, yelling for Sofia's benefit: "No! No help needed!"
Max chuckles, gripping my hips with his hands and fucking me with long, slow thrusts. My muscles clamp down tightly around him, my body trying desperately to pull him deeper inside. He teases me with such slow strokes, like he doesn't care whether we get caught or not. For a second, I wonder what happened to the rule-abiding, safe bodyguard who was waiting for me at the bottom of the palace wall the first day we met. The man inside me now is bold, reckless, and … fucking hot.
"I can send in someone to assist," Sofia calls.
Does she ever shut up?
"I'm good!" I shout, then I bring one hand to my own mouth to keep from crying out as Max fucks me harder, my other hand on the desk to keep me upright.
"Oh, you are so good," he moans, thrusting so hard that the desk jumps an inch, creaking loudly. Anyone out there would have heard the noise, if it weren't for the fact that the pianist chooses that exact moment to launch into the crescendo of the classical piece he's playing, the music growing louder and louder.
Max's thrusts speed up in tempo with the music. I'm so wet, I'm dripping onto my inner thighs. "You're so fucking soaked for me," he murmurs. "Do you even understand how good your wet pussy feels around my cock? Do you know how tight you are, how much you fit me like a glove?"
As if on cue, my muscles squeeze him tighter, and I'm so close to coming I could scream.
"Reach between your legs and touch your clit," he whispers, his voice urgent. "Do it for me now, sweetheart, because I can't wait. I need you to come for me right now."
"Alexandra?" Sofia yells. At the same time, the music stops completely. Either the pianist is in between pieces or everything has paused because the room full of people can hear us fucking and we're about to be discovered and we're completely screwed.
The problem is, I'm so far gone that I don't even care if that's the case, because right now, I'm reaching between my legs to rub my clit with my fingers and Max is fucking me so deeply. I think I might have lost my mind completely right now.
"Alexandra, are you coming?" Sofia calls.
Oh, shit.
I am.
"Yes!" I call loudly. Max's grip on my hips tighten and he thrusts inside me hard, the head of his cock going so deeply into me and hitting me so right that I know I'm going to explode. My hands slip on the desk and I pitch forward, nearly going face-first against the surface. I barely catch myself, but the gloves and the necklace go clattering to the floor. I come with a vengeance, my orgasm washing over me just as Max lets go inside of me and floods my pussy with his warmth. "Yes, yes, yes, yes!"
Oh, God.
I think my heart might have stopped beating entirely. Outside, there's total silence, no music on the piano. In here, Max is paused with his hands on my hips steadying me as my muscles squeeze him and his body twitches as he continues to come inside me. I'm dying as I try to keep from crying out loud as my orgasm continues.
If it weren't for the fact that we could both be in very real, very serious trouble, the whole thing would be comical.
Then Sofia speaks. "Well, that's a very enthusiastic response. I take it you like it, then?"
She's referring to the dress, but Max whispers in my ear. "My cum is dripping from you. Do you like it?"
I close my eyes as he pulls me up, his arms wrapping around me and holding me against his chest. "I love it!" I call loudly, trying to stifle the giggle building inside me. "I love it so very, very much."
"I'm so pleased," Sofia calls.
The music starts up again, and I breathe a sigh of relief – relief and post-orgasmic bliss.
Max murmurs in my ear. "Are you pleased too, dirty girl?"
"I'm pleased," I yell.
He pulls my dress down around me. "When you're standing there and they're altering your dress and my cum is dripping down your thighs, I want you to think of me."
It's impossible to think of anything else.
36
Max
"I didn't figure you for a chick flick kind of girl."
"What kind of girl do you think I am?"
"I don't know. You throw knives and rappel down walls."
She tosses a handful of popcorn at me before pushing the button to recline her leather seat. "Am I forcing you to have a movie night with me?"
"What the hell else am I going to do while I'm on shift? I'm attached to you at the hip," I complain, but I'm not really complaining at all.
&
nbsp; She gives me a playful grin. "More like attached at the dick," she says, pressing play on the remote. The movie projects onto the giant screen, but I'm hardly paying attention to the stupid movie, not when Alexandra is sitting here looking the way she does right now. Her cheeks are flushed light pink, the way they seem to be perpetually lately, and she's wearing flannel plaid pajama bottoms and a white tank top and pink bunny rabbit slippers.
She has a way of making the outfit insanely sexy. I think it's a million times sexier even than the sheer dress she wore that night, despite the very special place that dress now has in my heart.
"What is this, anyway?" I ask.
"Ten Things I Hate About You," she replies. "Are you going to sit down or what, James?"
"Is this a Protrovian movie?"
"Are you kidding? This is an American movie. It's basically The Taming of the Shrew."
Now, I snort loudly. "Are you trying to send me a not-so-subtle message that I've tamed you?"
"You wish, Bodyguard." She laughs, and I can't help but grin like a fucking lunatic, which seems to be what I do lately: grin like an idiot.
I slide into the recliner beside her, settling into the ultra-comfortable leather seat. I've been in the palace's theatre, but not the one in the summer house, which is much less ornate. Still, holy shit. "Is this what being a royal is like?"
"Movies at home? Don't you do that in Kentucky?"
I laugh, reaching into her bowl for some popcorn. "We don't watch movies in our private movie theaters on our summer estates."
"Okay, what do you do in Kentucky, then?"
I shrug. "There's never really been much to do in my town. Outdoor stuff: fishing, mudding, tubing down the river, drinking moonshine."
"Mudding?"
"Oh, good Lord, of course you've never been mudding."
"Sounds dirty."
"It's fun. You go tear up a muddy field in a truck."
"Yeah, sounds real fun," she says, giving me a skeptical look.
"Out here in the country, you should be tubing. You'd like that. You have the perfect river for it back behind the house. I bet you have good fishing out there too."
"Rafting, you mean?"
"Tubing ain't the same thing as rafting," I say, laughing. "Tubing is floating down the river with a case of beers and some music."
"My childhood involved music lessons and etiquette lessons and frilly white dresses at polo matches."
I throw popcorn at her. "Wah, wah, wah," I tease. "Was your diamond tiara too heavy? Don't try to impress me with your tragic upbringing, Poor Little Rich Girl."
She laughs as she fends off my popcorn assault. "Stop, stop! I'm saying your childhood was probably more fun than mine."
"Yeah," I admit as a sudden wave of nostalgia for my hometown hits me. "My parents are good people. My town is full of good people. It's shrinking, though, now."
"Why?"
I shrug. "People moving to cities."
"Moving to different countries," she adds.
"Yeah, that too. The mine shut down, which made it hard for most of the people in town who worked there."
"That's sad," she says. "You miss Kentucky, don't you?"
I try to shake off the feeling of nostalgia. "Of course. You'd miss Protrovia if you left."
"Sometimes I think I would," she admits. "But lots of times, I don't know. When I was a kid, I used to pretend I wasn't a princess."
"Don't most little girls pretend to be princesses?"
"Don't judge. I know it sounds ungrateful, the girl who has everything wanting to be a regular person."
"It's okay, I already know you're a spoiled brat," I joke.
She pelts me with popcorn. "Asshole."
Then we're both quiet and settling back, neither of us saying anything as we watch the movie. The silence is comfortable. Hell, just being with her is so damned comfortable now. Logically, I know that getting comfortable with her like this is too fucking dangerous for so many reasons. The problem is that I find myself wanting to be like this with her, hanging out in pajamas and bunny slippers, a regular girl without a tiara or duties or a rich family or any of the expectations that come with privilege. Every part of me screams that she's not a regular girl and she's never going to be one. To think of her as anything other than a princess is delusional.
So I focus on the movie.
At the end when the girl lists everything she hates about the boy (i.e., everything she loves about him), Alexandra sniffles. I whip my head over to look at her. "Did you just sniffle?"
"Don't look at me like that," she orders. "It's allergies."
"Your eyes," I say. "Did they just manufacture actual tears? I didn't think that was possible. You don't believe in love or happy endings."
"Oh, shut up," she hisses. "I told you, it's dusty in here."
"Yeah, super dusty," I say, laughing, swatting her hand away as she palms the front of my pants. "Are you trying to distract me from the fact that you just showed a human emotion other than anger?"
"I did not," she argues. She's also fucking persistent, her palm going down my cock. She knows I'm easily manipulated by her touch, my cock immediately hard.
"You're such a liar," I whisper as her fingers go to my zipper. She takes out my dick and strokes it. "I'm not going to be distracted by your hand."
She laughs. "Yeah, you're real focused," she says. Her thumb catches the pre-cum that already leaks from the tip of my cock. "Besides, I do believe in happy endings."
"Really?" I ask as she strokes me.
She gives me a mischievous grin. "Well, I believe in these kinds of happy endings."
Then she jerks me off, right here in the private movie theater in the summer house.
37
Alexandra
The rest of the summer flies by. I should hate it here in the summer house, holed up and removed from all semblance of civilization and culture. I should despise being cooped up here with my father and his future bride and my brother and my new stepsister, except I don't.
Of course, I hardly ever see any of them. Albie and Belle are busy making eyes at each other most of the time, and the other part of the time they're hidden away somewhere hooking up. Albie still won't admit he's with her, so I pretend I don't see the way they look at each other. Thankfully, my father and Sofia are the same way (as totally repulsive as the thought of that is) – but at least they're keeping to themselves and not giving me grief.
Sofia and I are in a tenuous state of détente. We're polite in public, even if I don't like the way she's blown in here and tried to take my mother's place. But she has taken my father's attention off of me, which isn't the worst thing in the entire world, either.
All of this means that no one has seemed to notice what's been going on between me and Max. My father has taken the position that as long as I'm here at the summer house and out of the headlines, he's fine ignoring everything else. Not that anyone has seen anything – despite how careless Max and I were to hook up during the fitting session for my bridesmaid dress – and we haven't nearly been close to getting caught any other time.
For the first time in my life, I've been content. Happy, even. I've been happy holed up here with Max. I've never wanted to spend time with just one person before, but things are different with him.
Except that the summer is drawing to a close and that everything will change once we return to the palace. My father will get married, and with that comes increased scrutiny. Insane levels of scrutiny – by the press, by the public, by government officials, and by my friends and by family.
I keep telling myself that it's just the sex making me this way. Good sex has turned me into someone happy, and that might not be a good thing.
I'm not sure I like it. Being happy means waiting for the other shoe to drop and for things to be torn to pieces – the way they always are. Being happy means being connected to other people, and people always disappoint you. They always leave when you least expect it, just the way my mother did when she d
ied.
This time, though, I know it's coming and I can protect my heart. Whatever is going on with Max cannot last beyond the summer. It can't withstand public scrutiny. It can't withstand evaluation. It can't withstand external pressure.
Neither can I.
So it's only sex. That's all it can be. Amazing, toe-curling, life-altering sex.
It can't be anything more. I don't know what to do with anything more.
"Psst."
Max's voice makes me jump. I whirl around to see him dressed in a t-shirt, swim trunks, and sandals with a backpack on his shoulder and sunglasses on his head. "You scared me," I tell him, narrowing my eyes. "What are you doing? You look like a tourist."
"And you looked deep in thought there by the window," he says softly. He waves me over. "Come with me."
"Where are we going?" I ask. "You know the charity event is tonight." He tells me he knows and that if he tells me where we're going, it will ruin the surprise. So I follow him, evading the places where there are security cameras around the exits from the house. We make our way to the backyard and through the garden and away from the summer house. When we pass the pool, he tells me to go into the pool house and change.
"Put on whatever you have in the pool house that's the least designer-y thing possible."
"Are you going to tear up my swimsuit?" I tease.
"Not if you're good."
"Are you encouraging me to be bad?"
"Just go change. Move your ass, little girl."
I throw on a bikini and sundress and top it with a large floppy hat, sunglasses, and a pair of wedge sandals. When I come out of the pool house, Max rolls his eyes. "Go put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and some normal sandals. Not heels."
I sigh exaggeratedly. "Whatever this surprise is, it doesn't sound fun."
"Oh, it's going to be fun, and you're going to like it."
"Your promises always sound like threats." But I change into flip flops and a pair of cutoff shorts and a white t-shirt.
Her Bodyguard (Raunchy Royals Book 2) Page 24
