by Avery Wilde
“Yes, well, no doubt you’ve never had to use one,” she said. “But I could always show you if you really wanted to learn.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But another time. Right now I’d like to know something else about you. Why’d you lie on your CV?”
The smile faded as her body stiffened, and I waved my hand and grinned. “It’s fine, it’s fine. You’re not in trouble at all. I’m just curious. I honestly thought it might be because you wanted to see me again, but I made a right dick of myself in assuming that, didn’t I?”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Well, I guess I felt like I needed to embellish it a bit to stand out, because I imagined there would be hundreds or even thousands of other applicants. I did have some experience at an after-college job I had for a while, but that was only for three years. So I added in an extra two years for all the time I spent cleaning up at home when I was younger.”
“Messy siblings?”
She chewed on her lower lip and suddenly seemed very interested in picking at a split end in her hair. “Alcoholic parents, actually,” she finally said. “I had to help clean up after them a lot when they were drinking, not to mention take care of my younger brothers.”
“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s fine. I’m okay with talking about it now. It was hard at the time, because they would lie all the time about getting help and then leave us in the lurch to go on another bender.”
Jesus, no wonder she couldn’t stand liars. Her own parents—the two people who a child was meant to trust most in the world—had screwed her up by constantly lying to her when she was younger and making her assume responsibility for all their shit. It sounded like she’d really had a lot on her plate from a young age onwards, and it was no surprise that she’d become so independent after such an experience; something I so admired in her.
“I’m sorry. That’s awful.”
She gave me a brave smile. “It’s okay. They finally got serious about sorting themselves out a few years ago, and they’ve gotten much better.”
“Well, it’s good to hear they finally got help,” I said.
“Yeah. I’m actually much closer with them now that they’ve sorted themselves out. They’re really proud of me for getting my degree, and I’m proud of them for getting better.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I said with a nod. “And if you’re comfortable sharing that story with me…do you think you might feel comfortable enough to tell me why you were crying when I walked in?”
I hoped I wasn’t pushing her too far, because her body stiffened again, but she nodded anyway. “Your brother said some things.”
“Michael?” Anger flared in me; I might have guessed. I loved my brother to the extent that biology demanded and a little beyond that, but I also knew him to be a jealous and petty little shit-stirrer. “What did he say?”
“Nothing major.” She obviously didn’t want to cause trouble.
“You just said he said some things.”
“They were nothing. I think I just overreacted.”
“The things he said made you cry. That’s not nothing.”
“Well, it wasn’t just that.” Keira looked away.
I didn’t want to upset her further, but if my brother had hurt her, then dammit, I wanted to know the details. “What else?”
“I guess your mother…”
“My mother?”
“It was nothing.”
“Dammit, Keira, it can’t all have been nothing!”
“Sometimes,” Keira raised her own voice now, matching my intensity, “a lot of nothings add up to something. You think things are fine and then a bunch of stuff happens that’s meaningless in itself but gradually wears you down. So you have a good cry, you put it behind you, and you get back to work tomorrow.”
“What did they say?”
“Well, apparently everyone in your family thinks I’m sleeping with you,” she snapped. She probably hadn’t meant to say it, but it was out now.
“What?”
For a moment Keira paused, clearly frustrated that she’d said what she’d said, but now that it was out there, it seemed like she’d figured that she might as well fill me in on the rest. “Your brother thinks you picked me as your maid to be your little whore. Apparently it wouldn’t be the first time.”
“That’s a flat out lie.”
“And your mother…well, I thought we were getting along—looking at paintings—and then I happened to mention that you and I had met in New York, and suddenly it seemed like she thought I was just another of her son’s bimbos. Someone who’s never going to be good enough for him.”
“Okay, wait.” I held up my hands. “For the record, what Michael said: that is completely untrue. All of it. I did not pick you to be my…I won’t even say that. And I have never, ever slept with any of our maids. As for what my mother said: you and I both know better. You weren’t one of those girls and you never would’ve been. You were different. They had no right to say any of that to you. They’re both completely out of line.”
Keira sighed. “Yes. And then again, no.”
“What? You’re defending them?”
She shrugged. “I’m just saying, I don’t blame your brother for thinking that you chose me to be your sexual stress-ball, because I thought the same thing. I thought it when you picked me as your personal maid, and then you…well, we both know what you did, which seemed to back that theory up pretty strongly…”
My shoulders slumped. “Fair enough.”
“Maybe he was lying about you sleeping with the staff before, but maybe he thought it was true, because if this is how you usually behave then that’s a mistake that anyone could make. As for your mother; again, you can’t blame her for thinking that, because that’s what you’ve conditioned her to think. How would she know that I’m ‘different’? I don’t even know that! You say I never would’ve been just another of your bimbos, but really, how do I know that? How can I believe that, when you told me a false name and were about to take me back to your hotel room on the night we met? How is that different from what you do with any other woman?”
“It’s not,” I admitted, looking Keira right in the eyes. “But you are different.”
“I don’t feel different.”
“Well, that’s my fault then, for not making you feel it,” I said. “I can only apologize for the other morning. I could write it off as my terrible sense of humor or the fact that I was brought up with a real lack of boundaries—comes with the job—but the truth is, I was scared. I’ve never met anyone like you before, I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, and it’s insane to me that I should be feeling anything on so little acquaintance. So I acted out. I acted like a dick. I think part of me was trying to drive you away so I wouldn’t have to deal with how I still felt about you after our brief meeting in New York. Or maybe I was trying to reduce you to the level of my usual ‘relationships’. I don’t know.”
Keira listened, her eyes wide, and I continued. “None of this is an excuse, by the way, and none of this is me trying to get you to forgive me. You shouldn’t. And you’re right: my mother and my brother reacted the way they did because I’ve given them every reason to think the worst of me. Which doesn’t excuse their behavior either. I guess that’s just the family we are: a bunch of dicks. But I’ve changed. And I’m still changing. And it scares me, but it’s kind of cool too. And it’s happening because of you. I’ve somehow changed since I met you, and I want to keep changing until I can by some miracle change enough to become worthy of a girl like you. If such a person could ever exist—which I’m not convinced they could, because you are absolutely and in all ways completely and utterly perfect.”
What reaction Keira would have to that little speech, which had been rambling, off the cuff and in no way planned, I couldn’t have guessed. But if I’d been presented with a list of possible outcomes and been asked to rank them in order of probability, then Keira kissing me would have been right at th
e bottom of that list…which made it even sweeter when it happened.
It was a tender kiss, gently brushing against my lips, and I wasn’t even sure that Keira had even known she was going to do it. She looked as surprised as I probably did as she drew back from me.
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” she said.
“That’s fair enough.”
“And you know I used the vacuum cleaner first thing in the morning as my petty little revenge for New York.”
“Well, I don’t forgive you for that, either.”
“What you did was worse.”
“I had a hangover!”
Keira paused, examining my face. “This is bad. I’m starting to think that you might not be such a terrible person, and you clearly are.”
“Would it help if I did something despicable?”
“It might.”
I pulled her to me and kissed her, hard and full on the mouth, and she melted into my arms, returning the kiss with equal passion. I felt her hands on my head, sliding down to caress my body, and I returned the favor, marveling at the smoothness of her skin as my palm stroked across it. I found myself lost in another world, a world of Keira; her taste, her scent, the feel of her body, firm against mine. I was so lost in this world that I was barely aware of normal sight and sound.
“Did you say something?” I asked a second later, vaguely aware that she had spoken but too preoccupied with her sweet lips to have understood the content.
Keira pulled back from our kiss for long enough to look directly at me, her eyes heated, her breathing rapid.
“I said…lock the door.”
Chapter 9
Keira
This was insane.
Totally and utterly insane. Andrew was a member of the royal family, and as an employee of the family, I had no right to be touching him, and vice versa. It was wrong; oh-so wrong, and yet it felt undeniably right. I’d just seen the real Andrew again, the very same guy I’d met that night in New York; the one who made me feel like I’d known him for a million years, and the one who knew exactly what to say to make my insides coil with fiery lust.
And I had to have him right now.
I watched him lock the door, my heart racing at the thought of what might happen next, and then he returned to the couch, pulling me into his lap and cradling me against his strong chest. As my pulse began to steady itself, his right hand rubbed my back gently, reassuringly, and then he moved up to my neck, rubbing and caressing me there. He cupped his fingers underneath my chin, tilting my face up so that I was looking into the depths of his crystal-blue eyes. They were burning with desire, and then he lowered his mouth to mine again. I closed my eyes, savoring his warm, sensual lips on my mouth. They moved slowly, caressingly over me, his big hands now framing my face on each side. His tongue softly slid over my lips, parting them gently, and my heart quickened again as my own tongue entwined with his only seconds later.
My whole body seemed to turn to jelly, and I ran my hands over his still-clothed chest, wanting to feel every inch of him. I finally slid a hand under his shirt, and as I caressed the hard muscle that lay underneath, he broke away from the kiss and looked at me. “Keira,” he breathed, his mouth still only inches from mine. “Do you know how much I've wanted to do that?”
“Tell me how much,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Not sure it’s even possible to put into words. I’ll show you instead,” he said, rolling me over onto my back and positioning himself above me on the sofa. He clasped my hands, our fingers interlocking above my head, and goose bumps rapidly peppered my arms and chest as he lowered his mouth to my lips again. His kiss was gentle yet hungry and mine matched his with intensity. I couldn’t get enough of him. I eased upward into his warm flesh, wanting to feel his full weight and his hardness.
Suddenly, he pulled back and tore my clothes away. They’d already been half off me, seeing as he’d accidentally walked in on me changing earlier, so it only took a second, and then he quickly unhooked my bra and threw it onto the floor, his mouth immediately finding my perky nipples as he leaned down. After a moment, he moved back again and pulled off his own shirt. I gaped at his muscular chest, wanting to stare at it forever, but he was quickly back on me, kissing my body, his warm skin pressed against my own. I could barely stop myself from moaning out loud already, because every touch sent my body into deep spasms of pleasure. I’d been imagining what it would be like to be with him, and it was better than I could possibly have guessed.
My hands quickly began to tear at his pants, and soon we were both completely naked, our body heat keeping us warm in the chilly air of the staff room. In fact, Andrew was so damn hot and radiated so much sexual energy that he was close to being a full-on fire risk. The days of want and tension were suddenly spilling out between us, and the thickness of our lust was incredibly powerful. He moved down, kissing my stomach and hips as he went, tracing a line from my bellybutton to my mound, and as he did so, his fingers slid in between my legs, gently plying my folds and parting them so his tongue could easily trace my clit. His strokes became more insistent, and heady pressure was already building up in my core; building up to an explosive need for release.
I could hear my breathing getting faster and shallower, but Andrew continued working my pussy with his mouth and tongue, and the shaking and shuddering of my body heightened. Soft moans slipped from my mouth, and he continued with the magic of his mouth. Finally, I couldn’t hold on anymore, and I began to fall apart, panting and groaning in pleasure. My climax shook my body until I thought I would shatter into a million pieces, and my hands fisted in Andrew’s thick hair. My hips were hungrily grinding into his mouth and tongue, letting him know just how much I needed him and just how much I needed more.
A lot more.
“You taste so good," he growled from between my legs. “God, you really taste so fucking good.”
My body gave one final shudder, and then it felt as if my legs had turned to jelly all over again. Andrew moved back up on the sofa, and I moaned and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him tightly against me. He gazed at me, and I knew he wanted the same thing I wanted.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he added, studying my face intently. “Are you really ready?”
Oh, yeah. I was so ready for him it ached. I nodded again, and he leaned over and retrieved a foil packet from his pants, which had been cast aside on the ground earlier. He made quick work of rolling the protection down his rock-hard length, and then he leaned over me and pressed his lips against mine, kissing me hard. I melted against him all over again. I was powerless, totally and utterly powerless, not because of who he was, but because I’d wanted him since the first time I’d seen him back in New York, no matter how many weeks I’d spent denying that to myself and trying to tell myself that he was an arrogant sleaze who was all wrong for me. None of that mattered now. It didn’t matter that we’d had a rough start, and it didn’t matter that we came from such different places in society.
All that mattered was the fact that we were here now.
The fact that he was the future king of England completely disappeared from my mind as he pulled me against his hard body. His taste and smell flooded my senses, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, moving my lips down from his mouth and over his neck and throat instead. His stiff cock pressed against my belly, and one of his hands made its way back down to my pussy, working my clit just like his mouth had only moments earlier.
“You’re so wet,” he said, lips right on my earlobe as one finger slowly slid inside me. “You want this so fucking badly, don’t you?”
A dirty-talking prince…just what a girl needs, right?
I groaned and nodded, unable to even give him a coherent answer, because it was just so friggin’ hot, and heated desire lanced through my body as a second finger slid inside my slippery entrance.
“Oh god, Andrew,” I moaned, desperately wanting something else inside me instead.
He knew exactly what I needed, and he smirked. “Tell me you’re mine first.”
“I’m…I’m yours,” I gasped out.
“That’s right. This perfect body is all mine. All fucking mine,” he growled, pulling his fingers away from me and pressing his cock against my soaked entrance.
My heart hammered. The tension was almost too much to bear. I felt his hands grip my hips as he pressed his cock inside me, almost agonizingly slowly. I gasped as he filled me completely, and I loved it, loved that every inch of him fit so perfectly in every inch of me. He began to move his hips slowly, his cock sliding in and out of my tightness, carefully but firmly.
A moment later, he withdrew from me for a second, but not all the way, just enough to tease me and make me beg for more. With the tip of him still resting inside me, he reached between my legs to rub my clit again and then thrust back into me, making me cry out at the overwhelming sensation of fullness. Holy god, it felt so good. I relaxed, my body ready to accommodate all of him again, and he eased in further, one hand squeezing my nipples as he moved against me, creating a sensual overload. My hands pressed against his shoulders, holding myself steady as I moaned and whimpered.
“Oh, God…Andrew…”
He groped my breasts as we moved in a rhythm, tweaking my stiff nipples, and groans escaped his mouth as my inner muscles tightened around him. The fact that he wanted and needed this just as much as me only made the entire experience that much more intense, and I loved the way he paid such close attention to my body, hands roaming over every inch of me. No other man had ever paid this much attention to my body; the previous guys I’d dated had been polite and respectful all the way into the bedroom, where sex was a quiet, polite activity done only in the dark and punctuated by only the occasional orgasm.
But this…this was a whole other world for me.
I wanted to please him just as much as he was pleasing me, and I made an effort to squeeze him as tight as I could, just to see him groan again. “Shit…keep doing that and I’m gonna come already,” he said, gripping me hard as I worked him with my muscles.
