by Tia Siren
I put my hands on his cheeks and brought his ear to my lips. “I love your fucking cock,” I said, my breath gusting in his ear. “Tell me what you love, Conner. Talk to me, stud. Tell me what you’re going to do to my tight little pussy.”
Conner’s eyes swept across mine for a moment, as if he was making sure he’d heard the words correctly. Then he kissed me again and said, “Do you love having my big cock in your tight little pussy?”
“I do,” I sighed. “Fuck me with your big cock.”
“I’ll fuck you with my big cock all I want,” Conner said, the pace quickening. “You’re my bitch and I’m your stud. I’ll do whatever I want to you with this big cock and you’ll love it. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Fuck me, Conner, faster…harder…”
“You love it when I fuck you fast, don’t you?” he said. He started pulling his cock almost all the way out of my pussy and then ramming it back in. Each time he did, the breath rushed from my lungs and I seemed to discover new nerve endings that spread shocks of ecstasy throughout my entire body.
“You’re mine now, Miranda,” Conner said, the words coming out in gusts. “You’re my bitch and I’m your stud. I will fuck you and suck you and do whatever I want to you and you’ll fucking love it!”
“I…love...it…”
“God, your pussy is so tight…. God, I’m coming, Miranda. Come with me, baby. Come with me…”
And with that, Conner slammed his cock into my pussy a few more times and then threw his head back and howled like a wolf. I wrapped my legs tighter around him and pulled him closer until his cock was fully in my pussy, filing me with his hot cum. I felt the heat radiating through my body as my juices mixed with his and overflowed from my cunt.
He collapsed on top of me. I wrapped my arms around him as we both struggled to catch our breath.
After a moment, he leaned up and kissed me. Looking deeply into my eyes, he asked, “Are you all right?”
“What do you think?” I said, giving him a dreamy smile. “Are you all right?”
Conner didn’t say anything. He just kissed my lips softly and then lowered his head to rest on my chest.
As I lay there cradling his head against my breast, listening to him breath, I wondered if we were thinking the same thoughts.
I closed my eyes and prayed that we were.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: Miranda
Conner and I made love several more times before the sun came shining through the dusty cabin window. Some of our lovemaking was rough and tumble, lewd and loud, but some was also soft and slow.
I could tell that I had a lot to learn, and hopefully Conner would be a patient teacher. I reminded myself that one night of lust did not always lead to a lifetime of love.
We’d just have to see how things progressed once we were back home, if Conner was so inclined.
Conner built a fire and we hung our clothes on the backs of chairs to dry. We sat on the porch wrapped in old blankets and talked as the sun rose in the sky.
I did not bring up the topic of his little brother again, though I knew we’d have to talk about it if we were going to see each other again.
There was nothing more precious to me than my brothers, and nothing was more important than family. If Conner believed otherwise, I didn’t see us having much of a chance of a future together.
When the horses went back to the stables during the storm, the stable master had called Conner’s cell phone to make sure we were all right. Conner had told him to send a Jeep at 8 a.m., and it showed up precisely on schedule.
When we got back to the lodge, Conner told me he had to leave immediately for urgent business in Dallas. I asked if I’d ever see him again and he just looked at me and smiled.
“Just try to avoid me,” he said, brushing his hand against my cheek. “I’ll call you later in the week to see how you’re doing here.”
As I watched him go up the path to the chateau to pack, I prayed that the effect I seemed to have on him wouldn’t wear off.
He seemed calmer now.
Not as cocky.
His smile seemed genuine rather than forced.
Still, I knew how guys were.
They had the best of intentions when they were sliding in and out of your pussy, but afterward, well, I knew I’d just have to wait and see how things went.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: Miranda
Wanda Jean was right. I made more money during the four weeks I worked at Big Sky Ranch than I’d made at Red Lobster in the previous six months.
It didn’t hurt that Conner had given me a ten-thousand-dollar tip for the time we’d spent together. I was a little offended at first, feeling like I’d been paid to fuck him, but then I let it go.
I had tuition to pay and three brothers to care for, and Conner had money to burn. If he wanted to give me an insane tip for the best night of my life, so be it.
I had only talked to Conner three or four times since the night we spent together. He was traveling a lot, he said, taking care of business all over the world. I asked about his little brother the last time we spoke, but he just changed the subject and moved on.
Honestly, I was wondering if I’d ever see Conner again. I mean, maybe I should have forced myself to accept the fact that it was just a one-night stand and I needed to move on.
Conner Blackstone was one of the richest, most-eligible men in the whole state of Texas, if not the world.
What the heck would he want with a dirt-poor girl from Fort Worth who had three younger brothers to raise and who scraped by waitressing at Red Lobster?
And yes, I kept my job at Red Lobster. The manager was a friend who held my spot for me. The money I made at Big Sky would pay for the online courses required to finish my physical therapy degree and help keep food on the table until I could find a good job, but that was about it.
Scotty was pissed that he hadn’t gotten his cell phone yet.
That was okay. He’d get over it.
I had to get over things all the time.
I hoped Conner Blackstone wasn’t one of them.
CHAPTER THIRTY: Miranda
I was in the kitchen, dumping two cans of ravioli into a pot, when Scotty came bolting through the front door in such a state that I thought someone was chasing him.
The twins were sitting at the table coloring, waiting for their healthy dinner from Chef Boyardee.
Scotty skidded to a stop and stood hunched over, trying to catch his breath. I grabbed a butcher knife out of the drawer and held it at the ready. “Scotty, what the fuck?”
“You’re not gonna believe who’s here,” he said, struggling to catch his breath. He fell into a kitchen chair and pointed toward the front door. “Go…for you…”
I put the knife back in the drawer and turned off the burner. “Watch the twins,” I said, picking up a dish towel and wiping my hands. I heard a knock at the front door. Scotty was still panting and pointing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: Conner
When I saw Miranda through the screen door, I exhaled the long breath I had been holding since getting out of the car. She was wearing cutoff jeans and a tank top and no shoes. Her hair was down and messy, as if she hadn’t bothered to brush it that day. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
The teenaged boy who had spotted my Bentley stopping in front of the apartment was standing behind her. Next to him were two little boys who looked like carbon copies of one another.
“Hi,” I said when Miranda came to the door. “Happy to see me?”
“Sure, of course,” she said, pushing open the screen to greet me with a hug. She wrapped her arms around me and we stood there for a long minute with the door propped open. It was the first time we’d seen each other since I’d left Big Sky. Holding her in my arms again put a smile on my face. I felt like I was the king of the world.
She pulled back and gave me a frown. “Why didn’t you call me? How did you even know where I lived?”
“I got your address from HR,” I
said. “And I didn’t call you because I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, you did,” she said with a smile. She turned to the boys still standing at the kitchen doorway and waved them over. “Conner, this is Scotty and James and Josh.” She looked up at me with hopeful eyes. “My brothers.”
“Nice to meet you guys,” I said. I took Miranda’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “There’s someone I want you to meet as well.”
I turned back to my car and gave my driver a wave. He got out and opened the back door nearest the curb. My little brother jumped out of the car like an escaped prisoner and ran to me with his arms out. I scooped him up and turned to Miranda. The look on her face was priceless.
“This is my little brother, Jeffie,” I said. “Jeffie, this is my friend Miranda, and these are her brothers.”
“Hi, Muwanda,” Jeffie said with a big smile.
“Hi, Jeffie,” Miranda said. Her eyes filled with tears and she traced a finger down my cheek. “Are you boys hungry?”
“We’re having ravioli!” the twins announced simultaneously.
“Will you boys join us?” Miranda asked. “We have plenty.”
“What do you think, Jeffie?” I asked. “Should we have some ravioli?”
“Yes!” Jeffie said, clapping his hands.
I set him down and he followed Scotty and the twins back inside. Miranda turned to me with a look of utter shock on her gorgeous face. Before she could speak, I leaned in and gave her a long kiss.
“This is all because of you,” I said with a smile.
“It is? How? Why?”
“We’ll talk after dinner,” I said with a nod. “Right now you have five boys who want some ravioli.”
She grinned and told me to get my ass inside.
I just smiled and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
EPILOG: Miranda
After a wonderful feast of ravioli and toasted Wonder Bread, Scotty took the little ones into the living room to watch TV. I had to swear on a stack of bibles that he would finally get his own cell phone out of the deal. It was a small price to pay to be alone with Conner on the back patio.
“I’ve been travelling a lot over last few weeks,” Conner said as the sky above us turned purple and the full moon appeared over the horizon. We were sitting in the rickety lawn chairs with our knees touching. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what’s really important to me. I realized it’s not the money or the stuff that makes me happy.”
“What is it then?” I asked.
“It’s you,” he said. He took my hands in his and brought them to his lips. “I kept thinking about the talk we had that morning on the porch when we were watching the sun come up. The way you talked about your life and your brothers and your hopes and your dreams… I realized I had lots more money than you, but I didn’t have the love you felt in your heart toward others. And I was one miserable son of a bitch.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” I said, squeezing his hands.
“I’ve been a selfish prick my entire life,” he said quietly. “I learned from the best. My old man, well, let’s just say that he didn’t exactly set a shining example for me to follow. That’s no excuse. I didn’t have to emulate him. I could have learned from his mistakes, but for the longest time…well, I just hope you can forgive me.”
I put my hands on his cheeks and rested my forehead to his. “You have nothing to apologize to me for. When did you decide to take in your brother?”
“Last week,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Again, it was what you said about family, the way your face beamed when you talked about your brothers. I realized that I had the opportunity to build the same kind of relationship with Jeffie that you had with Scotty, James, and Josh. I took legal custody of him three days ago, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”
“I’m so proud of you,” I said. We both started crying, and then Jeffie appeared at the back door.
“Connuh, did you ask her yet?” he said in his adorable four-year- old cartoon voice. Scotty and the twins appeared behind him. They all had suspicious looks on their cute faces.
“Ask me what, Jeffie?” I asked.
Jeffie pointed at Conner. “Muwanda, will you mawwy us?”
I turned back to find Conner down on one knee in front of me. He was holding a ring box. He pulled back the lid to reveal the biggest freakin’ diamond I had ever seen.
“Miranda, will you marry us?” Conner asked. “Or maybe I should ask, will you and your brothers marry Jeffie and I?”
I was dumbfounded. My lips were moving, but the words seemed to be stuck in my throat. Thank god for Scotty.
“For pete’s sake, Miranda, say yes!” Scotty turned to the younger boys and started chanting. “Yes, yes, yes, yes…”
“Well?” Conner asked with the smile he had given me the day we met. “Will you marry us?”
“I don’t think I have a choice,” I said, laughing through my tears. “I seem to be a little outnumbered.”
“You will always be my queen,” Conner said as he slipped the ring on my finger.
“And you are my king,” I said.
As we stood up to seal the deal with a kiss, the boys continued to chant and cheer.
It was the perfect proposal, even if the boys did outnumber the girls.
That was something Conner and I would have plenty of time to work on.
THE END
Big Bad Royal: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
Does one royally hot night count as happily ever after?
REBECCA MONROE:
Who the hell does this guy think he is? He stumbles into my bar in the middle of a snowstorm and tells me he’s going to kidnap me, knock me up, and then take me back to his country to be his queen. Seriously?
But if he really is who he says he is, then I’m in trouble.
Billionaire prince? Check.
Ruthless playboy? Check.
Muscles and an obviously huge package in his pants? Check.
There is no way in hell he’ll get me to be his princess. Not even for one night.
Because if he does, then happily ever after will be over before it even began.
PRINCE NIKOLAY “NICK” ROSTOV:
When my father, the king of Kosnovia, told me I must kidnap and marry an American girl to save his crown, I told him he was insane.
But time’s running out, and here I am stranded in a blizzard in upstate New York, and the only decent woman around is standing behind the bar.
A barmaid? I’m a freakin’ prince. I date actresses and supermodels, if you can call that dating.
But little Miss Can-I-Get-You-a-Drink makes the big prince in my pants want to come out and play.
So I’ll turn on the charm and make the barmaid my queen.
Just for one long, hot, royal night…
CHAPTER ONE: Rebecca Monroe
I glanced at the neon Budweiser clock hanging over the bar and saw it was almost nine, just about time for Carl Wilson to come in the door. Carl was as regular and dependable as that old clock. Nine o’clock on the dot was the time he had come in every night for twenty-five years.
Carl was one of a handful of locals left who frequented the Snowcap Bar & Grill on a basis so regular that you could set your watch by it.
The Snowcap, as it was called (because saying bar & grill required too much effort, I supposed), was a little dive bar/greasy spoon my dad opened here in Snowcap, New York, the year before I was born.
Dad told everyone that Mom gave birth to me behind the bar. It wasn’t true, of course. I was born at the Snowcap Clinic, the only medical facility within a hundred miles at the time. But telling everyone I was born inside the bar made my dad happy, so I never said otherwise.
I started helping out in the kitchen when I was just ten, flipping burgers that contained more cracker crumbs than hamburger meat. Over the years I bussed tables, washed dishes, swept the floor, cleaned the only bathroom (DISGUSTING!), and started tending bar when I was eighteen.
&n
bsp; I grew up in the bar business. It was all I knew. I had even planned to go to community college to study hotel management after high school, but that thing with Charlie happened, and then my dad died the day after my twentieth birthday.
My world suddenly became the ten-by-three-foot stretch of floor behind the bar. All thoughts of going to college were laid to rest with my dad.
Dad had a massive heart attack and died on the very spot where I now stood swiping a damp rag over the bar.
His pals said he died doing what he loved: pouring drinks for the locals and shooting the shit about Jets football. That was bullshit, plain and pure.
He died doing what he had to do to keep food on the table and the lights on in the little apartment where he and I had lived upstairs. Mom left us when I was just two. Ralph Monroe was the only parent I ever knew. That was why I’d never left Snowcap and would never close this ratty old bar. This bar was the only thing of my dad’s that I had left.
Carl was going to come in for his nightly three mugs of beer come hell or high water. Not even an early winter snowstorm like the one that was kicking up out there now would keep Carl away. I looked through the big front window that had Snowcap Bar & Grill painted on it in fading letters. The window was starting to ice over. The weatherman was predicting a foot of snow. It would be an early night, and that was just fine with me.
I filled a cold mug to the rim with draft and set it on the bar in Carl’s spot so it would be waiting when he got there. Carl didn’t move too fast these days. He’d been an old man when I was a young girl. I had no idea how old he was now, because he had looked the same for years.
He had been driving his snow plow and pulling people out of ditches in these mountains for thirty years. Storms like this didn’t frighten Carl. He said every snowflake sounded like money falling from the sky.
