Royally Screwed: A British Bad Boy Romance

by Jessica Ashe

  “It’s impossible to control myself around you,” George said through deep breaths. He unzipped the back of my dress, and then moved up on the bed, dragging me up with him until my head was resting on the pillow.

  I closed my eyes and tried to calm my nerves as George pulled my dress off and threw it to the floor. I couldn’t see anything, but I could feel his eyes on me as I lay there in just my bra and panties. His body was so perfect, sculpted, literally like a work of art. Mine was… normal. I was young enough that my breasts still pointed up, and I was slim, but I didn’t have a lot else going for me. There were freckles, and soft bits that wouldn’t disappear no matter how many sit ups I did in front of the television.

  “You’re stunning,” George said softly.

  I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He was staring down at me with a genuine look of desire on his face. I wasn’t stunning, but George seemed to think so, and that was just fine with me.

  He leaned down and kissed me on the lips, his hard cock pressing eagerly against my belly. A hand went under my back and unclasped my bra, quickly whipping it off in one smooth motion.

  The second my breasts were free, his mouth dived onto a nipple, covering it with his warm lips, and flicking against it with his tongue. This time it was my turn to hold his head and keep him close to me.

  “Oh, George,” I moaned as he bit down gently on my erect nipple. His hand slid down my stomach towards my panties which were getting wetter and wetter with every second my nipple was in his mouth.

  His fingers pressed against my sex from the outside of the soaking wet cotton between my legs. I tried to pull his head up to mine—desperate to get his body on top of me—but he resisted and instead headed in the other direction.

  His lips kissed my skin as his mouth made its way slowly down to my underwear. Each kiss sent jolts through my body, and left behind a fire on my skin, until finally George crawled between my legs, and hooked his fingers under my panties.

  They came off in a blur, and suddenly my wet sex was exposed to George. He looked down between my legs with hunger filling his eyes. I needed him to devour me and I couldn’t wait any longer. I hooked my legs around him and pulled his body down between his legs.

  “You’re not the patient type, are you?” he asked.

  “Are you?”

  “Good point.”

  George’s mouth kissed the insides of my quivering thighs as he slowly made his way down to my wet slit. The second his tongue touched my sex, the built-up anticipation washed over me and left me gasping for breath on the bed.

  I looked down between my legs; our eyes met briefly before George sent his tongue darting out to my swollen clit.

  My head snapped back and my eyes closed shut as George ate me with a furious intensity. My hands gripped the covers, but nothing I did could keep the pleasure at bay. My hips rocked furiously against his mouth as he slipped his tongue into my entrance, groaning with pleasure as he ate me.

  “You taste so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, his tongue coming out and sliding back up to my clit.

  I cried out in pleasure, although I don’t think any of the sounds formed actual words. They were just noises that had to come out.

  I kept squirming under the expert touch of his tongue, but his hands clasped my hips firmly, so that his tongue never left my wetness. Every movement of his tongue sent shock waves throughout my body until I was finally ready to let go and surrender.

  Then he stopped.

  His mouth left my sex, and suddenly my world felt empty.

  “Bad timing,” I gasped, as I lay shaking on the bed. I’d been right on the edge but didn’t go over.

  “Perfect timing,” he replied from the side of the bed. He must have dug a condom out of his pocket, because he came back to the bed with his cock sheathed and ready to go. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”

  George climbed on top and kissed me deeply, letting me taste the sweetness that covered his mouth and chin. His cock moved close to my entrance, but he let it stay there just out of reach as we embraced and kissed.

  I’d been excited by the size of his manhood, but now I realized that somehow he was going to have to squeeze that thing inside me. The prospect had me equal parts nervous and excited, but the increasing wetness between my thighs made it clear that my excitement would win the battle in my mind.

  I wrapped my legs around George and slowly pushed him into me, encouraging him to enter and finish what he’d started. He guided his huge length to my opening and then pushed forward slowly as he filled me inch by glorious, pulsating inch.

  He looked into my eyes as he rocked his hips on top of me. The gasps of discomfort at his size quickly turned into whimpers of joy, as my sex flooded with pleasure at every movement of his cock inside me.

  George was holding back. I wanted him to let go and lose himself in my sex, but I was in no position to give any commands. All I could do was lay there, squirming and moaning, as his cock warmed my insides and spread fire throughout my body.

  “Keep going,” I murmured.

  “You’re so tight,” he moaned, as his cock slid deep into me. “I don’t know how long I can last.”

  The muscles in my sex clenched hold of his pulsating cock, as if it never wanted to let go. I leaned back into the pillow and cried out, losing myself completely in the moment, as his cock finally sent me over the edge that I’d been teetering on since he kissed me. Hell, I’d been waiting for this since we first met.

  George shook and groaned deeply, as his cock throbbed and then emptied inside me. We kissed again, before he rolled to one side and we lay next to each other, breathless, on the large four-poster bed.

  As first times with a new guy went, doing it in a royal residence was right up there. It certainly beat my first time with Stan in more ways than one.

  The sound of creaking floorboards came from outside the room as servants shuffled around tidying up and getting the house prepared for the morning.

  “Do you think they heard us?” I asked George nervously.

  “I don’t think so. But they might hear the next time.”

  “Next t—” My words got lost in my throat as George pressed his lips up against mine and brought me in towards him. His cock wasn’t just huge—it was insatiable.

  Chapter Nineteen

  George

  Neither of us could go home. My apartment building was continually surrounded by reporters, cameras, and television crews, while Sophia’s had become almost like a shrine for young girls in the area who wanted to see where the princess had been living when she met her prince.

  We booked a long term stay in a London hotel under assumed names, and acquired entirely new wardrobes to save the hassle of moving. Ellie and Dani had come in use again on that front, by bringing some of the essentials from our apartments to the hotel.

  “Was this how you envisioned your honeymoon?” I asked my wife, as she lay on the bed knocking back chocolates that had been one of the many gifts we’d had shoved into our hands over the past few days.

  “Stan and I were supposed to spend two weeks in Barbados, soaking up the sun on the beach and swimming in the clear blue seas.”

  “So that’s a ‘no’ then?”

  “I burn easily, and I hate beaches. The sand gets everywhere. I’m also an awful swimmer. I’m happy here with you.”

  “What type of grand holiday would you like to go on? Walking the Great Wall of China? Hiking? Skiing?”

  “I’ve always wanted to ski. I grew up just a few hours from Lake Tahoe, but we couldn’t afford the lessons and all the gear you needed. Can you ski?”

  “I’m English. The only thing I can do on snow is fall on my arse. We did have a dry ski slope near where I lived, but I never went.”

  “Dry ski slope? That sounds painful.”

  “It probably is. True story—there was one time me and some friends were going to go there for a birthday party. We were all excited, and a little nervous, but it had been snowi
ng recently, so we were all in the skiing mood.”

  “I thought you said you’d never been.”

  “I haven’t. The dry ski slope had to shut because of the snow. That’s skiing in Britain for you.”

  “Sounds like we both want to ski.”

  “I’ll take you,” I promised. “Once all this is over, I’ll pay for a skiing holiday. Or I’ll pay for you to go with your friends if you’d prefer.”

  “No, we can go together. It’ll be fun. A celebration of tricking everyone with a fake marriage.”

  The marriage didn’t feel all that fake at the moment. We were living under the same roof, sleeping together, and planning holidays. If we started arguing over the chores and stopped having sex, then it would be a completely bona fide marriage.

  “How long until room service arrives?” Sophia asked. “I’m starving.”

  “About twenty minutes,” I replied. “That’s just about time for—”

  “Uh-uh. I don’t have the energy for that. Food first, then sex.”

  “It’s good to work up an appetite.”

  “We worked up an appetite an hour ago. We’re just still waiting for the food to arrive.”

  “You know, it’s not often women turn me down.”

  “Better get used to it, buster; we’re married now.”

  “I could have you right now if I wanted you,” I said with a smile.

  Sophia legs fidgeted under the covers, giving me all the confirmation I needed. This hotel had better hurry up with the food.

  “Stop being a cocky git and pass me the remote.”

  “A cocky git?” I asked.

  “Yeah. That’s what you people say isn’t it?”

  “I have never been more proud of you.” I threw Sophia the remote and just prayed that she wasn’t into reality television. How crazy was that? I didn’t even know what types of television shows my wife watched.

  Sophia flicked through the channels aimlessly, barely stopping on each one for a second before moving onto the next.

  “How can you even tell what the show is?” I asked.

  “I can tell,” she replied. “Ah, here we go. Let’s watch the fight.”

  “What fight?”

  “It’s the big UFC championship match. How have you not heard of it; It’s been hyped for weeks. US versus the UK. England versus America. Batman versus… no, wait, that’s something different.”

  “You like this rubbish?” I asked.

  I liked boxing, and I’d always thought of UFC as being a less disciplined, more bloodthirsty version of that. The UFC crowds bayed for blood in much the same way as an audience at a wrestling match. It didn’t really do anything for me.

  “Ellie, Dani, and I always watch it when we can. It’s quite entertaining after a few bottles of wine.”

  I glanced up at the television as the British fighter—Elliot Michaels—was introduced to the home crowd.

  “I think I’ve just figured out why you like watching this,” I said, as I watched Elliot stroll up towards the cage.

  “Touch jealous, are we?” Sophia teased.

  “Not likely. I have all the muscles they do, and my tattoos are better.”

  “You sound jealous.”

  “Actually, I am,” I admitted. Elliot’s team gathered around him before the fight, which included a young woman holding a medical bag. “My doctor is nowhere near that attractive.”

  “Yeah, well, unfortunately for you, she isn’t about to get half-naked and work up a sweat on television. This will be my little treat before dinner.”

  A phone call from Harry gave me a decent excuse not to watch this crap.

  “What’s up Harry?”

  “I’ve got good news—the public is loving that little walking tour you did of London earlier. I’ll give you your dues, that was a damn good play. Visiting all those independent shops makes you look like a real ‘community values’ kind of guy.”

  “Thanks.”

  I hated it when Harry made this all sound so artificial. I knew it was, but I didn’t like hearing it from others. Sophia and I could talk that way about it, but no one else.

  “The palace visit also went down well. You’re coming across as mature and sensible, which is quite remarkable for you.”

  “Thanks again, Harry.”

  “You’re welcome. Anyway, I want you to do another event in the public eye. Something to really make you look like a prince and heir to the throne.”

  “I don’t want to look like a prince,” I insisted. “We need to look like a couple, but I’m never going to become a prince, and I’m sure as hell never going to be king.”

  I’d let Harry in on the secret, because he started getting his hopes up about being a full-time PR person for the royal family. I’d done my best to let him down gently, but he hadn’t taken the news well.

  “I was hoping you’d changed your mind about that.”

  “Nope. This is not about me becoming a prince. It’s about me getting the inheritance I’m entitled to.”

  “Alright, alright, you win. But you should do another appearance anyway. One more won’t hurt.”

  Harry was right. We needed to look like a couple or the trustees wouldn’t be convinced by the marriage. We could buy a house, or make some other grand commitment, but a few public appearances were a lot easier and quicker. The sooner I got the money, the sooner we could go back to our normal lives.

  That would be a mixed blessing. I’d have money, but I wouldn’t have Sophia. There was always the skiing holiday to look forward to, though. If that’s how things had to end between us, then it would be a fun way to go out.

  “Okay, one more event,” I agreed. “But nothing with the royal family. That would send a mixed message.”

  “Deal.”

  “Thanks Harry.”

  I hung up and looked back at Sophia. I’d been hoping she was too transfixed by the fight to have paid attention to my conversation, but she’d clearly picked up the gist of it.

  “What are we doing next?” she asked.

  “I don’t know yet. Nothing major.”

  “Okay, well that’s fine with me. We might need pictures of us together when applying for my visa. Helps to prove the relationship is real.”

  “You know, if you wanted to prove we have a genuine relationship, then we could take some photos that would be conclusive proof—”

  “No,” Sophia snapped immediately. “Not happening, mister.”

  “Shame. You look so damn good when you’re down on your knees sucking my—”

  “Room service,” came a call from the door.

  I grabbed our food and presented Sophia with her tray since she didn’t look like she had any intention on getting out of bed.

  “I should have ordered more,” she said. “I’m famished.”

  “You have a burger, fries, Oreo cookie milkshake, and a chocolate tart for dessert. Surely you can’t eat all that?”

  “I’m always hungry after sex,” she replied, shoving fries into her mouth.

  “Guess I’d better start leaving snacks by the bed.”

  “It’d be wise.” She paused to eat, and then stopped to drink some of her milkshake. “You haven’t changed your mind about becoming a prince?”

  “Nope. Not at all. Why’d you ask?”

  I knew the answer. She wanted to be a princess, and god damn it, she deserved to be one. I wished I could give her that, but I couldn’t. That’s not what this was about.

  “You just shouldn’t be so quick to write it off. You could do a lot of good as a prince, and you’d still have loads of money.”

  “But I need the money for Tabitha; you know that.”

  “Yes, but I’ve heard rumors that princes are actually quite well off.”

  “I won’t be able to spend taxpayer funds on my sister.”

  “As long as you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure,” I insisted, as Sophia went back to eating.

  I watched as she took a large bite from the burger an
d piled a few more fries into her mouth. I had to shove food into my own mouth just to stop myself from laughing. I had no idea how anyone so petite could eat so much and not put on weight. Even stranger, I found the sight of her eating one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen. There was nothing this girl could possibly do to put me off.

  Then Sophia belched.

  She quickly covered her mouth with her hand and gasped, but didn’t look round at me. I bit my lip hard, but in the end the laugh slipped out anyway. Once I laughed Sophia went bright red and tried to hide her face in her hands.

  I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and brought her gently towards me, being careful not to knock any of the trays over.

  “You’re absolutely adorable, you know that?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sophia

  One day soon, we’d have to leave this place, and I’d have to go back to college, but for now I didn’t intend to move an inch more than I had to.

  I woke up to a message on my phone from George. Be back soon. Need to see a man about a dog. Keep the bed warm for me.

  I’ll be in the shower when you get back. Come in and join me.

  We’d been screwing all day, and the day before that, so I seemed to be constantly sweaty and sticky no matter how many times we shared a shower. Actually, sharing a shower often led to us getting sweaty and sticky again.

  My phone vibrated on the marble surface next to the sink and then fell to the floor before I could grab it. I should have known George would reply to that message. Probably something filthy.

  There was no text message, but an email had come through. I’d turned all email notifications off after George and I went public, but I’d forgotten about an old Gmail account that I didn’t use any more.

  I’d switched to a new account after splitting with Stan, and everyone had my new email address. Everyone except Stan.

  Hi gorgeous,

  Long time no see.

  Blood drained from my face, and I felt dizzy and sick at the same time. The urge to vomit kept me in the bathroom, but I sat down on the cold marble floor before I fainted.