His Royal Hotness

by Virna DePaul

  “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  The final turn was up ahead. He sped towards it as Molly kept withholding what he wanted, what he needed—his cock down her throat.

  The wheels screeched and kicked up dirt as Callum swung into the lookout’s small parking lot. In one motion, he yanked the gear into park, unclicked his seat belt, and shoved open his door. Molly’s hungry eyes watched him as he crossed in front of the headlights and yanked opened her door. Before she could say a word, his hand was on her throat and his lips met hers.

  She moaned in pleasure against his mouth, and he tightened his fingers, feeling her pulse race beneath his thumb. With his other hand, he felt along her skirt for the long slit and threw back the silky layers, exposing her wildly maddening legs and black lace thong. He pulled away from her desperate kiss and stared down at her eyes, navy blue in the dark, pupils wide. His cock pulsed painfully when she looked straight in his eyes and pressed her throat forward against his hand, challenging him for more.

  Squeezing even tighter, he held her against the seat rest as he ripped the silk from her breast, leaving her heaving in the warm summer night air.

  “Touch me,” she gasped.

  His other hand ghosted over the black lace of her thong, and he smiled when he found her already wet. He knew she would be. He raised an eyebrow as he licked her taste off his finger.

  “I don't know,” he said, eyes taking in the sight of her body. “I might want you just like this.”

  Her ripped dress hung off her shoulder, her hard nipples bared for him, her back arching up towards him. Her hips squirmed and the muscles in her thighs tightened with desperation.

  With his hand on her neck and her begging for more, he could’ve kept her there and made her watch him pull out his cock and fuck his own hand. Just the sight of her, debauched and under his complete control, could make him come. He'd spill himself all over her naked chest as she moaned for his hands, his tongue, his cock.

  And while the idea of her begging in sweet moans drove him wild, he wanted to give her what she wanted.

  “Unbuckle your seat belt,” he commanded.

  Her chest stuttered at the sound of his voice. Eyes lighting up, she fumbled quickly for the lock. With a click it came undone. He slid his hand around to the back of her neck and squeezed the tight curls at the base until her head tilted back slightly.

  “Get out of the car.”

  She ducked her head to slip out of the car and stand expectantly next to him, her high heels crunching on the gravel. The whole time, he kept his hand twisted in her hair.

  “Front of the car,” he ordered. “Face the hood.”

  When she stood in front of the hood, he let go of her hair and stepped back, admiring the way the wind moved through the soft, silky layers of her new dress.

  Too bad it was soon going to be trampled in the dirt.

  Stepping forward, he whispered in her ear. “Don't move.”

  With his hands on her shoulders, he pulled down each soft strap of her dress. It slipped from her body and pooled around her stilettos. At the sight of her nearly naked, wearing nothing but her heels and her soaking wet black thong, he licked his lips.

  “Put your hands on the hood.”

  She did as he told her to, arching her back. His head fell back and he covered his mouth to mute his groan. Moving closer to her, he kicked each of her feet so that her legs were wide apart for him, her perky ass in the air.

  “Are you going to fuck me?” she asked.

  Her voice sounded like a soft breath of wind, in his ears and then gone. If he hadn't been listening so intently, he wouldn't have heard. Standing close behind her, he studied her legs as he finally gave his penis relief by pulling his boxer briefs down.

  Her voice again purred along with the wind as he cupped his balls and slowly stroked his cock. He wanted to hear her beg. He wanted to watch her squirm. He wanted to see her knuckles grow white on the hood of the car as she bit her lip and wiggled her ass and moaned into the night.

  “Are you going to hold me down so my tits are pressed against the engine while you fuck me?”

  The wind caressed his cheek and carded through his hair, but it was her words that made shivers race down his spine. She was trying to weaken his resolve. She knew the power she had over him and was trying to force his surrender. Her words were a siren luring him in closer, closer, closer. But still, he waited. Still, he resisted.

  “Are you going to fuck me so hard I leave scratches in the paint?”

  He closed his eyes and squeezed the base of his shaft to keep from coming right then, all over her ass and legs. With his eyes open again, breathing shakily through his nose, he saw her arms on the hood tremble in anticipation. It took everything in his power not to thrust inside her, lean over her glistening back, and tug at her peaked nipples hanging over the car like the sweetest of forbidden fruits. But he held himself completely still, except for the flick of his wrist passing over him.

  “Or are you going to make me stand here until I'm so wet it's dripping down my leg?”

  Her voice was strained. Neither of them would last long. He rubbed his own precum over the head of his cock. Beyond his own control, his hips thrust in the air. But even as he thrust into his own hand, he wouldn’t thrust into the blissful tightness of her pussy. Not yet. Not until he heard her beg.

  “You said you were going to fuck me on your car,” she said, her plea just barely hidden in her tone. She gasped and shifted from foot to foot, moaning low. “I need you to fuck me on this car.”

  Her fingers curled and she lowered herself down to her forearms. Her thighs tried to squeeze together, even as she kept her feet wide where he’d placed them. He fucked his hand slowly as he watched her.

  “Callum,” she begged, no longer trying to hide the desperation in her voice. Every syllable she spoke begged him.

  He put his hand on her warm hip and could practically feel her skin buzzing. A static bolt could snap between their skins. He was tingling from head to toe. She thought he was about to push inside her, but he merely leaned forward, making her feel the impressive length of his cock against her ass.

  “What are you waiting for?” she whined. “Callum.”

  She tried to press her hips back against him, but he held her still with a hand against the back of her neck. Her legs trembled against him and she beat her fist against the hood. Her squirming became more desperate, curses falling from her dirty mouth. A firm slap to her ass made her still, and her curses quieted to whimpers against the shiny black paint.

  “Please,” she moaned. “Please, please, please.”

  He gripped his cock, circling his head in teasing strokes against her pussy. His breath came in sharp gasps as her soft, warm folds dripped down his length to lubricate him.

  Every part of her seemed to be shaking: her back where it rose up to the plump curves of her ass, her feet in her wobbling stilettos, her legs and arms and shoulders.

  She was whimpering, pleading, begging. All incomprehensible. The only word he could truly make out was his own name.

  And at that sound, he ended both her torture and his own.

  The first long, hard thrust pounded his dick against her G-spot. With a scream, her flesh tightened around him, and she came. He held her up as her knees collapsed and she trembled and clawed at the hood of the car. Under his hand, her chest heaved. He pulled out and drove himself back inside her.

  As if she were a ragdoll, he drew her legs to one side, twisted her over, still impaled on his rod, and lifted her further up onto the hood of the car. Now facing him, her eyes met his. He’d never seen her further gone. She clutched onto the sides of the car as he put her feet, one stiletto missing, over his shoulders and fucked her fast and hard. Her tits bounced wildly from the force of his cock rocking her back and forth. Her back was pushed against the hot black metal, her cheeks flushed and eyes unfocused. She seemed to already be on the edge again as her moans grew more frequent and higher
pitched.

  Sweat broke out along his brow and trickled down his back as he chased his release. He was done teasing, done withholding, done restraining. He wanted nothing more than to come inside of this naked girl on the hood of his car. He was like an animal with one goal, one vision, one drive that snapped his hips faster and faster, pushed his cock deeper and deeper.

  Her back arched off the hood and her mouth fell open as Callum groaned from how tight she became through her orgasm. He dug his fingers into her thighs and thrust deep into her before exploding, hips stuttering and eyes clenched closed. She lay limp beneath him, her arms flung on either side of her as she caught her breath and gazed sightlessly up at the stars. Callum lifted each of her slender ankles to his lips and kissed them, then pulled out with one final sigh.

  He pulled her into his arms, carefully lowering them both to the ground so their heads leaned against the darkened headlight. Their combined long shadow was wound together in the gravel before them.

  If anything should be painted, it should be that.

  Bodies intertwined, hearts pounding in rhythm.

  Together.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Molly

  Molly sat cross-legged on the hood of the car, watching Callum fold her ruined dress. With the silky fabric crumpled in his hands, he sent a sheepish grin her way. She laughed as he made an attempt to brush some of the dust from the straps, only to find the massive rip he’d made to get at her chest.

  “Might need a stitch or two,” he muttered, assessing the damage.

  Molly shook her head. “It’s perfect.”

  Their eyes met. There was nothing awkward between them as they enjoyed their inaudible language. Callum finally smiled and draped the dress over his arm, jerking his head towards the trunk.

  “Got a few blankets and things, if you’d like to stay a little,” he said.

  She nodded, and he smiled again. She heard him stop first by the passenger door, and then the lights from the headlamps went out beneath her feet. It took a few moments of blinking in the new darkness, but when her vision adjusted, she climbed off the car and walked in awed silence towards the edge of the hill.

  Down below, illuminated in the warm glow of old street lamps and tiny strings of lights, lay the scenic town of Kelso. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it was a little model train town. The lit streets ran all the way down to the coast. If she closed her eyes, she thought she’d hear the crash of waves along the sandy shore.

  A warm breeze wafted over her. She breathed in the hint of salt and the piney scents from fields and forests. Callum laid a blanket on her shoulders, and she smiled up at him. He grabbed one corner, stretched it over his wide back, and squeezed next to her to share the warmth.

  Together they stood and admired the view. Standing up on that hill, with the twinkling, smiling world below, she imagined this might be the closest thing she’d ever felt to being a queen. The strong arm of a royal wrapped around her, holding her tight, certainly didn’t hurt.

  “Molly,” Callum suddenly said, in an excited tone that surprised her. He grabbed her hands and stared down into her eyes. “I want to paint something for you.”

  She grinned and stood on tiptoes to give him a tender kiss on the cheek.

  “Sure,” she said, adjusting the blanket on her bare shoulder. “Maybe we’ll paint together.”

  Her hands started to pull from his to grab the slipping corner of the blanket, but he tugged her back, so that she was standing in front of him.

  “No, no, I’ll never be any good with paint.”

  He shook his head, his fingers fidgeting. She raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, how about charcoals?”

  Seeing his cheeks redden, she listened as he said, “You’re the artist, Molly. I know that. No, I want to paint for you, but…”

  She waited, searching his face as he tried to find the words. Finally, he muttered, “Here,” and walked her over to the front of the car. Again, he sat on the ground next to the bumper and nodded for her to do the same. She was simultaneously amused and confused, but unable to stop smiling as she watched him breathe deeply and close his eyes.

  “She has curly hair,” he started. She noticed his eyes moving beneath his eyelids, as if he were actually seeing something. “It was the kind of curly hair I suppose one could pull on and it would always spring right back into place.”

  A grin she knew so well tugged at the corner of his lips.

  “I have to admit the thought of tugging them myself did cross my mind.”

  Smiling, she cuddled up next to him, just far enough away that she could still see his lips move in the moonlight’s cool glow.

  “Pale pink T-shirt, thin as the wing of a butterfly, so I could see her nipples rising and falling with her chest. An ill-fitting jacket falling off one shoulder. Black jeans. Torn.” He paused and frowned. “Torn around the knees, in fact. I remember that because it blew my mind, that a woman would wear jeans with holes in the knees to meet a duke.”

  Molly smacked him playfully on the chest.

  “Her shoes were covered in stickers from more places than I could count. Different shapes, different colors, even different languages. She’d traveled.”

  He peeked one eye open and gazed down at her.

  “Everyone who sees this painting will feel the uncontrollable jealousy from all the men around the world who had had the luck of laying eyes on her. Anyone who sees this painting will have wished with such passion that he’d walked each step with her so that she didn’t have to go it alone. He will feel the undying need to place his own sticker on her petite worn boots. Got it?”

  Molly smiled and nodded, feeling a warmth in her chest and on her arm as he squeezed her tighter.

  “Good,” he said, closing both eyes. “Now her face. This part here is the hard part, because if I painted it the way it is in my mind, no one would ever believe she’s real. They’d say I was painting a fantasy, I was inventing perfection, or I was delusional. But I’ve seen her. I’ve seen this woman. They’d call me a liar. A goddamn liar, they’d say.”

  He shook his head. It was as if he simply couldn’t understand that the whole world didn’t believe him. He took a deep breath.

  “But I’m going to give it a try.”

  He looked like he was building up his courage before diving off a cliff.

  “The freckles on her cheeks were so perfect, not because of their perfection, but because of their imperfection. No one could have placed them quite the way they were on her face, no matter how long they tried.” He smiled. “Her eyes were looking glasses, her lips were feathery pink clouds amidst a most vibrant sunset. It was a face that was impossible and yet alive with rosy cheeks and a curious quirk of her eyebrow.”

  He was silent for a long time after that. Molly watched his lips the whole time, trying not to hold her breath as she waited for him. She wanted to see what he was seeing. It was her, but it was not the Molly she saw in the mirror. How was it that he saw her? That was what her heart desired to see.

  Shaking himself as if he’d forgotten where he was for a moment, Callum opened his eyes and brushed his finger along her cheek. She could almost see his lips moving, as if he were counting how many freckles dotted her nose.

  “We haven’t talked at all about the backdrop,” he said next, closing his eyes yet again and drumming his fingers along her arm. It was the same way Molly drummed her fingers when deciding what color to select for a canvas. “The backdrop of this painting is an open door to a large ballroom. The walls on either side of the door are lined with mirrors. And in the mirror on the right side, just visible in the reflection, is a man who is staring at this woman. There is surprise on his face and intrigue in his eyes.”

  It was then that Callum opened his eyes. Watching his lips move was magical. But if his lips were magical, his eyes were fire, all consuming and impossible to look away from.

  “When you look at this painting,” he whispered, “you see the man in
the reflection is trying to hide it, but he wants her. He wants the woman in the painting.”

  She held his face in her hands and felt her heart beating against his.

  “You paint beautifully,” she smiled. “Absolutely beautifully.”

  Their lips found their way to each other and it was soft and sweet, more like silk than the real silk of her dress.

  “It’s the moment I first saw you,” he explained. “The moment I expected someone so different from you to walk through that door. The moment I knew I was in terrible, terrible trouble.”

  She grinned, intertwining her leg with his.

  “You’ve been very, very naughty Your Grace.”

  He responded by cupping her breast and pinching her nipple, tugging it as she squirmed. His hand fell to her leg, and he ran his fingers up and down her thigh.

  “I was thinking you could come with me for a three-day road trip through my lands. We’d leave on Wednesday. The country is beautiful, and I really think you’d —”

  “Wednesday?” Molly interrupted.

  She pulled back from his embrace and stared at him as if he’d spoken Japanese. Before her brain could tell her to shut up, she blurted, “I have to leave!”

  He just laughed and pulled back to see her face more clearly. With amusement, he searched her eyes for the joke’s punchline. As he studied her, his eyes narrowed slightly.

  “What?”

  She threw off the blanket and stood up to pace back and forth in front of him, ignoring the fact that she was still completely naked. She dragged her hands through her hair.

  “I have a new job to start on Wednesday,” she explained. “I have to leave. I have to leave.”

  He leaned up and grabbed her elbows to keep her from pacing.

  “You didn’t mention any job.” He was still searching her eyes, but she covered them with her hands. “Molly, what job?”

  She growled in frustration. “Just a stupid job. A job that pays.”

  He pulled her hands down from her eyes, and there was a hint of a grin on his face. “What job?” he repeated.