by Mia Madison
Brought to him?
So full of himself.
Christ if only he weren’t so damn freaking hot.
“To practice for your part in ‘The King and I’ at the Christmas musical you put on for the servants?” I say, doing my best to keep a straight face but not that well.
He frowns, like he’s pissed at me teasing.
“That’s good,” I say. “That’s how Yul Brynner did it in the movie, that stern intimidating glare. “You remember how the American Governess broke him down in the end though?”
“I’m surprised you remember. That movie is like a hundred years old.”
He loosens his stance and relaxes into a smile. He’s even more handsome when he’s not being a dick or acting like a royal potentate.
“I took an American Classics class last semester,” I tell him.
“The King and I counts as a classic?”
“Sure, Rodgers and Hammerstein are legend.”
“Then no, I didn’t bring you here to play musical theater critic. I have a proposition for you.”
“Oh?” My. God. He’s just going to come out and tell me he owns me. I thought there’d be some subterfuge to his game. I really need to get out of these soaked underwear which are even wetter since I came into the Prince’s bedroom.
“Do you always offer propositions in your bedroom? Don’t answer that – dumb question.”
“This is perfectly above board. I want to help your father out of his little predicament.”
Hmm mm, sure you do. You’re all about the altruistic endeavors.
“Oh that’s awfully nice of you,” I say in my poshest voice. I even sound a little English.
“I need you to marry me.”
“What?” I blurt-choke.
If he’d offered me a refreshment, his exquisite upholstery would be covered in the spray.
“Not really, of course.”
Oh.
“Of course.”
“No. My father would never approve of that obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“But I’m being bombarded with bimbos as you call them and the press are hounding me, at my father’s behest, I have no doubt. The country needs an heir.”
“You want me to have your baby?” I squeak.
“That won’t be necessary. I just want you to play my fiancee so that the magazines have a few features to run and will get off my case for a while. At least until my musical opens.”
He’s funny. I like him way more when he can laugh at himself than when he’s being that cocky arrogant playboy surrounded by jiggling bare breasts.
“And how does my father benefit from this?”
“I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars for your services.”
“Wow.”
He upped the price. At least he thinks I’m worth more than he bartered me for. I ought to act outraged and tell him to take a hike. I would, excep for the blood rushing around my body carrying tingling pressure with it. I thought he’d have me naked and spread open for him by now. I’m a little disappointed.
“And if I refuse? I’ll get dragged down to the dungeons, I assume.”
“Be careful what you joke about,” he quips.
His eyes won’t stop traveling up and down over my body, alighting at the spots that interest him, particularly my breasts. I’m sure my nipples are rock hard little pellets, trying to entice him.
“My Grandfather, also Crown Prince Lucien Leopold Max-Callandar had two wives. One he kept chained in the attic. The suite is still intact up there.”
“You’re joking,” I say.
“Are you tempting me?”
“A hundred thousand is a lot of money,” I say quickly trying to change the subject from the idea of his ancestral dungeon, an antique red room.
My clit is pulsating with yearning to know what toys he keeps up there. Shackles and whips from the Middle Ages maybe.
“It is indeed so I’m going to need some guarantees of your behavior.”
“My behavior?”
“You haven’t shown yourself to be very docile so far.”
“Thank fuck.”
He grins then straightens his face again.
“You cant say fuck,” he says. “You have try to act like a lady and do as you’re told. Everything I say without question.”
“Like you’re my prince.”
“And you’re my Princess.”
“So how do I do that?”
“Start by coming here.”
I walk across the room toward him with a bring-it-on stance.
“Stop there,” he orders me when I’m about three feet away.
He sinks down into a big chair behind him, all gold with a coronet molded into the back rest. Jesus, he keeps a personal throne in his bedroom for tossing out edicts at peasants.
I stop, rooted to the ground. Goosebumps rash along my arms as he leans back in his chair and looks me over. His hand grips the gold armrest hard and the other cups his chin as he trawls up my body giving me a long hard eyefuck. Did an ice age just begin because I can’t stop shivering.
“Take them off,” he commands me.
“Excuse me?” I squeak.
“I said take them off. I don’t repeat myself.”
I’m stunned but instead of refusing, my hands betray my brain and reach to pull up my skirt until they hook into the waist of my panties. Lucien’s gaze drops and is ravaging me and I love how it sends electrical bolts through my core. This is so filthy and I love it.
“Stop,” he orders.
My hands dart away in relief.
Then he says; “The bra. Take it off.”
This must be a test to see how far I’ll go.
“Still determined to have me topless?” I ask with a smutty smirk.
He watches without comment but his expression becomes increasingly impressed as I reach behind and unhook the clasp then shimmy the straps down, slide my arms out and tug the thing out from under my dress.
“I’m determined to have you every way,” he husks.
His eyes bore through the material hard enough to strip it away and enjoy my naked tits. I’m glaad they’re as round and perky as any beach babe.
“Come here.”
He slaps his thigh and I can’t believe he wants me to sit on his knee on his throne. I move toward him, the hundred thousand uppermost in my head. Okay, almost uppermost because my pussy has taken over and is hammering out its demands.
“Face down,” he grits, almost croaks when I go to sit on his knee.
What?
For a second I’m confused then the flutters in my stomach become daggers of heat.
I gulp down then climb up the first step of the dais and bend over his knee. My breasts graze against his thigh and prickles fly through me straight to my clenched pussy. I’m desperate to have his fingers sliding into my slick folds. Thank fuck I still have my panties on or juices would be streaming all over his trousers.
“Good girl,” he says, his voice husking. “I’m glad you can do as you’re told sometimes. But you still need to be punished for likening me to a skinny, bald old movie star, don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” I whimper. “Sir.”
Chapter EIGHT
Lucien
When she walks into my bedroom with a defiant little tilt to her chin and a fire in her eyes, the need to break her is overwhelmed by the one to rip her clothes from her body and have her naked, panting in my arms, begging me to fuck her.
“You’re supposed to curtsy to me when you come into my presence,” I say.
Her eyes slam into mine.
“You must be kidding,” she snaps.
“Not even a little,” I inform her. Trying to keep the humor out of my tone and be serious.
I’m sure she’s going to refuse point blank but then she seems to have a change of heart. Her little foot goes behind and she gives me a wobbly little bob, the tiniest, most begrudged curtsy ever. I have to purse my lips and frown to stop from burstin
g out laughing at how she fights me. She’s going to have to concede to me, there’s no doubt about that. The only question is when.
I’ve secured all the time I need in the deal I struck up with her thieving bastard father. My dear old friend, the one that screwed me over in a deal last time. I never had any intention of following through on that, of course. It was a joke that I played and one he tried to turn the tables around on.
No one fucking turns tables on me. No one plays jokes on me. Least of all a guy I believed was a friend.
He came begging to borrow money from me right after he left school and like the trusting young buck I was back then, I believed in the solidarity of team mates. I was a bit of a rugby star at sweet sixteen and he played on the team I was put on. All the guys were three or four years older than me. They teased me until they realized I could take them all down in a scrum and then they developed respect. We all ended up friends but I was closest to Cooper. Enough to give him cash when he needed it.
I never meant to take what he agreed back then but I certainly do now. And I’m going to keep her here with me as long as possible. Her Daddy won’t be getting away with my cash so fast this time.
My balls are fucking killing me though as she pulls a stripper move, getting out of her bra with her clothes still on. Kudos, this girl has some steel ones.
She doesn't know I’ve already sized up every inch of her gorgeous flesh and can clearly imagine her tits naked without needing the covering pulled back. Right now it’s plenty invigorating to see the uplifted round orbs floating buoyant on her chest, curling upward to a pointed nipple that’s protruding harder under my extended gaze. I lick my lips and in spite of the pain in my sac, relish a delicious slow burn leading to the moment I eventually lay claim to her.
“What are you going to do to me?” she whimpers.
The undersides of her tits shelve on my thigh and almost drive me insane with need to tear her panties down her legs.
“Like I told you. You have to be punished so you learn to be good.”
I pull the sundress up the back of her thighs, then fuck, did she just part her legs an inch? Enough that her pink pussy is revealed poking through between her cheeks? I can tell she’s soaked through, the fabric a different color between her legs than higher up. That makes me even more rabid with lust to release the beast. Restraining myself is a fucking huge effort.
My breathing comes in fits and starts so the craving to tear the panties off her stabs at me. I grit down and hook beneath both sides of the lacy leg trim. My knuckles dig into her fleshy cheeks as my fingers curl under the fabric and she shudders on my knees. I have her quivering just where I wanted her. That makes blood surge in my veins.
I tug the fabric higher up over the curving round swell of her firm as so that almost all of each cheek is revealed. I close my eyes and hitch a silent breath, glad she’s face down on me and can’t see the desire lunging through me.
She moans softly and arches her back so her cheeks lift higher. The soft pink flesh looks so good I want to lean down and bite it. The swollen bulge of her clit presses harder where it’s trapped in the pocket of fabric. It must be agonizing for her. If I reached underneath and squeezed the triangle fold in a tight pinch it would relieve some of her ache.
For a little while that is. I’m fucking thrilled to see how much her body is begging for me. She can fight me off with her stare all she wants but her delicious craving betrays her real feelings. She needs this as much as I do.
Maybe I’ll slip one finger into her panties and twirl circles on her pretty clit.
“Oh god,” she whimpers and writhes on my thighs making a battering ram of my cock.
I lift my hand and slam it down on her ass making us both gasp in surprise. Her flesh shakes in reverberation and then a satisfying pink stain rises on her cheek. She squirms and before she can wriggle too much I bring my palm slapping down on one cheek then the other, raining down a spanking until she squeals.
“Have you had enough?” I gruff down at her.
She’s trembling so hard on my thighs I have to move her before I explode.
She doesn't make a sound so for one awful moment I wonder whether the shuddering is from sobbing. Fuck, I wouldn’t be able to come back from that if I hurt her.
My hand rests across both cheeks. My pinkie finger resting in the hollow at the very top of her inner thighs. Her panties are soaked right through and moistening my finger. Her flesh scorches through my palm making me long to tip down and press my lips into it.
I don’t dare move.
I’m rigid with desire pummeling through every cell.
I’ve never wanted a woman like I want Kennedy.
“I said, have you had enough,” I repeat, forcing the croak in my throat to sound stern.
Still nothing.
She’s panting hard so her breasts rub up and down over the side of my thigh, driving me insane.
Then finally she inhales deeply and responds.
“No.”
I pick her up off my knee and set her down so she’s standing right in front of me. I hold her eyes clamped in mine.
She gazes back at me not flinching with a stare I can’t read. Slowly she reaches both hands behind her and blazing defiance back at me, she tugs the underwear I yanked up high, back down into a comfortable position.
“So you agree to act the docile young fiancee to the Crown Prince,” I tell her rather than ask.
The deal’s already been struck after all. Not that she knows it but she won’t want to see her daddy in the slammer if I send them back to the States. She inclines her head almost regally. She’d make a perfect little queen, for a commoner.
“Are we done here?” she asks.
“For now,” I grit out.
I must be losing my mind.
Any other woman I’d already be bending over my throne and buried balls deep inside. This girl that I want with a more ravenous hunger than I've ever wanted anyone in my entire life, this one, I’m allowing to turn her back on me and walk away.
With a glorious toss of the long waves back over her shoulder, she bends down to retrieve the pink lace bra from the carpet.
“Leave it,’ I bark, harshly enough that her outstretched hand freezes. “I want to picture you naked through dinner.”
She looks up at me and for a moment it seems like she’ll defy me again. If she does I’ll have no choice. I don’t think I could restrain myself one second longer. She’ll have to come kneel before me like my subject and submit to me attaching small clamps to the end of her erect nipples.
Christ, I have to shift on my throne to alleviate the pummeling of my cock to be set free. What fucking idiot invented pants and zippers?
She thinks about it then elects to take my order. Leaving the garment on my rug, she walks away from me with her hips swaying seductively. It would be so easy to pull her back on my lap and impale her onto my golden staff.
“We’ll be dining out,” I inform her.
“But I don’t have any clothes to wear,” she mewls. “And what about my father?”
“I’m not going on a date with a chaperone,” I say dismissively.
“Fine, I’ll let him know you’re making him dine alone.”
“Pick you up at eight,” I say, with a grin she ignores.
She turns on her heel and struts from the room in the sexiest little stomp I’ve ever seen.
Even walking out the door, this girl looks like a queen.
Chapter NINE
Kennedy
I stomp down the corridors of the palace, like the dumpling little queen of hearts in Alice in Wonderland. My cheeks are burning hot from the spanking and the lace edging on my high cut panty leg is rubbing the stinging flesh.
I slam the door to my room shut and tear the underwear off, reveling in the cool air on the scorched skin.
“Asshole,” I snarl to myself.
But my uncovered slit starts to throb eagerly from being exposed and the awareness that I’m
not going to get any relief comes flooding at my skin. I was sure he was going to take me right there. He had me under his palm, his fingers grazing my swollen clit through my panties. All he had to do was slip beneath the fabric and push inside me. How desperately I wanted him to do that is only just dawning on me.
What’s bothering me is how much I want Lucien’s hands on me. I’m throbbing everywhere but especially at the sensitive points of my nipples and clit. I need him pinching me and twisting the desire, making it peak and explode.
My luggage has arrived and is sitting on a rack by the closet. It looks so small and lost in this huge room. When I rummage through the contents I have nothing to wear to go to dinner with a prince. I try various outfits up against myself in front of the mirror and realize how immature and lacking in any real style my clothes are.
Lucien’s going to quickly regret the deal he struck with me to have me act the part of his girlfriend. I’ve seen Princesses in People and they don’t look like me. I can’t even buy something new since we have no credit cards and no cash until the Prince pays up his part of the deal.
I run a bubble bath in the huge old enamel tub, not too hot but still my cheeks flare up burning as I sink gingerly down into the water. When I emerge and towel dry, my hair sticking to me, I dress in the only decent thing I can find. A simple white cotton dress by Kendall + Kylie and am at the dresser mirror with my Naked eye-shadow palette when there’s a tapping at my door. My heart lurches.
“Idiot,” I say to the blushing me in the mirror. “Don’t get excited. Your prince has definitely not come.”
Still, I leap up and dart to the door, managing to stop and put on a disdainful stare before opening it. I find my father standing there.
“Come in.”
I drag him inside and look up and down the passage way in case anyone is coming. I have to tell Daddy what’s going on. The problem is I’m not supposed to have overheard the offer.
“The Prince asked me to be his girlfriend?” I whisper even though we’re alone.
“What did you tell him?” he asks eagerly.
If this were a real situation I know he’d be telling me no way I can date a man old enough to be my father.
