‘I’d completely forgot how utterly delicious your spunk is,’ she says before slumping onto a heap onto the super soft merino wool blanket. ‘I’m incredibly sorry, Drake. But I don’t think I have any room left for the delicious food you’ve laid out tonight.’
I kick off my shoes and remove my jeans. I shove the clothing to one side before lowering myself to the floor and pull Vanessa into my stomach so my still rock hard dick is lined up with her wet ass. ‘Quite frankly my dear, I couldn’t give a shit if we don’t eat a crumb.’
Vanessa
It’s so surreal. The twinkling lights of the city in the distance. The gentle crackle of firewood in the chiminea. The faint aroma of freshly baked bread lingering in the air. The sensation of Drake’s rock hard manhood nestled in the crevices of my wet core.
He’s spooning me, laying together on the soft blanket we fit like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He’s wrapped his strong arm around my body and has found my hand with his. The soft pads of his fingertips are exploring the curve of my nails as though he’s never touched them before. His heart hammers in his chest at the same speed as a busy bee flaps his industrious wings. Mind you, mine isn’t much further behind in tempo.
‘I missed you, baby.’ His voice tickles my hot neck and I close my eyes, hoping the darkness will suppress the whoosh of guilt his words generate. ‘Did you miss me?’
I sigh and rock my backside against his solid manhood. ‘I’ve missed this.’
How else am I supposed to answer? The thing is, no, I haven’t missed him. I’ve thought about him all the time. But there’s a large part of him that’s been with me day in and day out since we parted. It’s hard to miss somebody when they’re still under your nose morning, noon, and night. When you’ve loved a part of them twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
He presses the bulbous end of his manhood deeper into my folds. ‘Oh yeah,’ he teases. ‘How much have you missed this?’
‘So much,’ I whisper into the night air.
Drake pulls my hair to one side and kisses the back of my neck. He licks at my scorching skin and nibbles his teeth into my shoulder. Bolts of excitement fan throughout my entire body, waking up parts which have been dormant for a very, very long time.
‘Make love to me, Drake,’ I plead.
He grasps my shoulder and rolls me onto my back. His eyes rake over my body as he shakes his head in disbelief. ‘Heaven,’ he says. ‘You are heaven on earth, Vanessa Dean.’
I turn my face to the side and allow his words to dance around my ear before committing them to memory. He always knew how to compliment a girl. It was always part of his never-ending charm.
His fingers hook into my lace panties and I raise my hips off the ground as he peels them down my thighs. His movements are painfully slow. I wasn’t expecting slow and steady. I was expecting fast and dirty. This is supposed to be goodbye sex. Goodbye sex is raw. Crazed. Wild. He inches my dress over my head and tosses it to one side. Then, like a master stonemason admiring his latest creation, he runs the palm of his hand across my forehead and down my inflamed cheek. He swipes his knuckles across my heaving chest and explores my engorged breasts. He toys with my nipples, causing my back to arch and a whimper to fall from my lips. Both his hand and his eyes explore my stomach.
‘You haven’t changed a bit,’ he says.
I have. I’ve changed a lot. The slivers of silver on my abdomen and thighs must be invisible under the blue light of the moon. I can’t risk him spotting them. If he sees them, there will be questions. I don’t want questions. I’m not ready for questions.
‘For fuck’s sake, Drake. Did you forget how to fuck a woman already?’
He laughs before looking longingly into the night sky and sighing from the bottom of his lungs. ‘Never was one to mince your words, were you, Ness?’ His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows and I wonder what emotion it is he’s suppressing. Drake Henley doesn’t do emotions. Or at least didn’t do emotions. In his words, emotions are for sissies.
‘Well, one of us had to say it as it was,’ I tease as he lowers himself over me. ‘If you need directions, I’m happy to assist.’
He grins at my sarcasm. His teeth are still remarkably perfect. Just like his chin. His nose. His forehead. His eyebrows. His ears. I’d forgotten how perfect every one of his features are.
‘No help needed thank you, Miss Dean. I still know my way around your body better than my own.’
He inches his cock into my slick pussy and my hands clamp into his lower back, urging him in. I want every inch of him to stretch me. To fill me. He sinks further inside until he’s so deep I can’t help but growl. His dick is still perfect. So hard. So immensely satisfying. He pulls himself almost all the way out, the coolness of the air caressing my wetness is fleeting but sublime, then he thrusts back inside with an explosive grunt. And so it begins. A gruff sound gurgles deep from inside of Drake as he hooks my legs over his arms, bending me double so he can see for himself how fabulous our bodies look as we fuck. His cock drives deeper and deeper with every thrust of his powerful hips and I clasp wildly at the blanket, at his arms, at his athletic ass. Trying desperately to keep a hold on reality as my mind ventures further and further away from it. For every one of my whimpering cries, Drake grunts and groans and curses and fucks me like he’s punishing me for my absence. Well, let him punish away because never before has punishment felt so fucking good.
From nowhere he slaps my ass. That’s new. The shock sends my nerve endings into spasms and makes my inner walls clamp harder against his dick. I curse as he slaps my ass again, and again until I can’t take anymore and my body sizzles with a build-up of pressure that begins at my toes, works its way up my thighs, and squeezes my core before flaring through my body, making me convulse wildly. The energy that can’t escape via a flow of honey-like fluids bursts forth from my chest in the form of a rasping howl.
‘That’s it, baby.’ Drake says, his breath laboured. ‘You fucking come for me.’
Without breaking his rhythm, Drake lowers himself so we’re chest to chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders. Hugging me tight during his final throes of passion. He whispers sweet nothings into my ear before groaning his pleasure. He grits his teeth as the full power of his orgasm steals the last of his strength. Breathless, he shifts his weight to one side and holds me close. He holds me so tight it’s as though he’s scared I’m about to run away into the night. His manhood softens, but he doesn’t move away. We remain glued together. Our legs entwined with one another's like binding weed. Our toes, our ankles, our knees, all lock together. Somehow within a matter of minutes, we’ve become one again.
Just like we used to be.
Before I found out how much I meant to him.
Which wasn’t a fraction as much as he meant to me.
I blink to fight back burning hot tears as memories of how he’s disrespected me in the most spectacular fashion flood my mind.
He humiliated me.
He underestimated me.
I can’t let him do it to me again.
There’s too much at stake this time.
Chapter Five
Drake
‘Somebody’s happy this morning,’ Father comments at breakfast without removing his eyes from the business pages.
‘Yes, I am, Father. Yes, I am.’ I say, almost in sing-sing as I pour my usual bowl of coco-pops. I’m as happy as a pig in shit and know that whatever today brings nothing will bring me down. ‘Where’s Mother? There’s something I wanted to ask you both that can’t wait.’
Father clears his throat and turns the page of his broadsheet. ‘You know your mother. She’ll appear when she’s ready. More’s the point. Where’s that brother of yours? Felix knows it’s a family breakfast day?’
I chuckle to myself. Mother and Father still insist that we all meet for breakfast on the rare occasion we’re all in the palace and not on our usual far-flung royal duties. Why they insist on keeping the tradition alive wh
en Brice and Magnus have moved on is beyond me. The breakfasts are getting quiet, especially now Felix is turning into a phantom.
‘I have no idea, Father. He’s as elusive as a snake oil salesman at the moment.’
Father grunts just as Mother enters.
‘Where’s Felix?’ She asks without missing a heartbeat. ‘The boy knows it’s a family breakfast morning. I haven’t clapped eyes on the child in days.’
I roll my eyes. My brother and I are twenty-nine. Hardly children anymore. ‘Never mind Felix,’ I say. 'There’s something I want to ask you both. It’s about the family games weekend.’ I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. ‘I’d like to bring a friend this year. A female friend.’
Mother and Father exchange fearful glances.
‘Not that revolting Opal Dorsey,’ Mother cries. ‘The girl is a parasite. I won’t have her at an official family engagement. People will assume you are to wed.’
I smile. ‘No Mother, not Opal Dorsey.’
‘Then who?’ Father asks. His bushy brow furrowed in confusion.
***
It took a hell of a lot of convincing but Mother and Father remember Vanessa and, luckily for me, Brice and Magnus have worn them down almost to the point of apathy when it comes to their children and matters of their hearts.
I’m banging on the front door of the house that Vanessa disappeared into last night but there’s no answer. Odd. She definitely said she had a day off work. Maybe she’s out on an early morning run? Or taking a long cold shower. Lord knows I needed one myself this morning.
‘Ness,’ I shout through the letterbox. ‘Ness, its Drake. Can you let me in?’
I’m met with silence. I consider calling her mobile, but then it occurs to me that I might be in the wrong place.
I step backward and look up at the façade. It was dark by the time I dropped her home. And I was high from our lovemaking so there is half a chance I’m at the wrong door. It looks exactly the same as all the others in the street. Blast. Maybe looking in the window will give me a clue.
I step over one of the small plants lining the footpath and peer through a window. Drat. I’ve got the wrong house. Judging by the décor, this house is habited by an old person with a penchant for collecting crap.
‘Can I help you?’ I spin around and see the occupier of the house, a woman who must be a hundred years old, has finally made it to the front door.
‘I’m so sorry to have bothered you,’ I say and genuinely am. It must have taken every effort for her to answer the door. ‘It looks as though I’ve got the wrong house. I’m looking for a friend. Ness… Sorry, Vanessa. Vanessa Dean. Do you know her?’
The old woman’s eyes sparkle. ‘Oh yes, I know Vanessa. She lives right across the street.’ She raises a shaky finger and points to the house facing this one.
That’s odd. I definitely parked on that side of the street and watched her walk over here before disappearing into the porch out of view. ‘Over there?’ I clarify
The lady nods. ‘Oh yes, definitely over there. I take packages in for her sometimes. She’s such a busy young lady you see. Always running around. Never a moment for herself. It’s the least I can do for such a lovely young lady.’
My heart swells with pride. My Vanessa is much loved. By everybody. I thank the kindly woman and cross the street. I knock on the door and wait. Still nothing. This is most definitely not my morning. I don’t waste too much time before peeking in the window of this house. When I do my heart sinks. This is also the wrong house. A family lives here.
The living space looks like a bomb has hit it. There are toys and shit everywhere. It looks like a girl's answer to my nephew’s playroom. Pink and fluffy and sparkly and complete mayhem. In the kitchen, I can see a fridge plastered with multi-coloured scribbles, loving created by a young hand. Dishes scatter the kitchen surfaces and there’s a pile of laundry bigger than the one in the palace launderette sitting at the foot of the stairs. My Vanessa would have a fit if she saw this mess.
I sigh. I can’t knock on every door. Being here in broad daylight is already exposure enough. All it’ll take is one person to recognise me and poo, my relationship with Vanessa will be all over the papers. With a heavy heart, I turn to leave but something jumps out at me. Just above the sofa hangs a portrait. A canvas to be precise. A blown-up photo of a woman and a child. They’re lying on their stomachs and are laughing at a shared joke. It’s a striking image. Made even more striking by the model. It’s Vanessa… And a child! A girl. Roughly the same age as Preston and Fletcher. With the same mass of unruly blonde curls covering her head.
A girl. About three and a half years old. Who looks the mirror image of my nephews.
Holy fucking shit.
Vanessa
I wanted to die when Doria pointed at my house. I’d stood, like a breathless statue, watching Drake knock on the elderly lady's door. I’d prayed that she was at a hospital appointment and had cursed when she’d finally appeared and pointed Drake in my direction.
Shit!
What’s he doing here? He’s not supposed to come back for more. Last night was closure. I’d assumed it would be closure for both of us.
‘Ness!’ He pounds on the wood and the vibrations shake every organ in my body, causing bile to rise to my throat. I should answer. But I can’t let him into my home. Especially considering Tira is due back any minute.
‘Ness, are you home?’ He shouts again, but this time his voice has faded. He’s on the move.
I dare to lean forward to see for myself if he’s leaving but yelp and squish myself back up against the door when he presses his face against the living room window. He’s sizing up my home. Probably judging the mess inside. Maybe he won’t realise it’s my house; I was complete clean freak back in the day. Or even worse, maybe he will. Maybe he’ll realise that this is my address and that I live here with a child. Or maybe he’ll assume Doria was confused and think it’s another family home.
Then the portrait hanging above the sofa catches my eye. It’s huge. And hangs directly opposite the window Drake is looking through. I had it made at Christmas as a special treat for me and my girl and until this moment I’ve considered it to be one of my most treasured possessions. Now it’s nothing but a traitor giving away my biggest secret to the one person I never ever wanted to find out.
‘Ness,’ he shouts, hammering at the door with his fist. ‘If you’re in there, I’ll give you until the count of three to answer.’
I close my eyes. Please go away, Drake.
‘One.’
Drake, seriously, please leave me alone.
‘Two.’
Please Drake, just go. Tira doesn’t need this upheaval in her life.
‘Three.’
Help me, Lord.
With fingers that behave like cooked spaghetti, I fumble with the lock and turn the handle to open the door.
When I reveal myself to Drake he resembles a crazed animal. His nostrils are flaring and his eyes are flaming and for the first time in my life I experience true fear.
‘Are you going to invite me in or would you rather have this conversation in the street?’
This is most definitely not a conversation I want to have in the street. I step to the side and allow him into my home. His bulky frame fills my tiny living space as he circles it. He picks up toys and drops them again. He scoops up a framed picture of Tira at her first birthday party. She’s grinning straight into the camera. Both her cheeks are bright red because she’d been teething for months but her stubborn pearly whites had refused to make an appearance. I remember how exhausted I’d felt at the time of taking the picture. I was also privileged to be celebrating the day with my baby girl. Drake hadn’t featured in the celebrations. He’d not featured in anything. From day one it’s been me and her against the world. The world that I suspect is about to implode.
‘What’s her name?’
I open my mouth to answer, but her beautiful name sticks in my throat.
‘Her name!’ He bellows and I stutter into action
‘Tira. Her name is Tira Dean. She’s three and a half years old. She’s wise and smart and funny and knows nothing about who she is or who you are. She’s lived a nice normal life as a nice normal girl.’
He turns his face towards mine, and before they can meet his, I whip my eyes away.
‘Why?’
I flop into the sofa and bury my face in my hands. ‘Just because.’
‘Just because?’ He hisses. ‘Because of what, Vanessa? Did I hurt you? Would I have hurt her? Why?’
I whimper and a single tear rolls down my cheek. ‘I planned on telling you.’
He laughs, the sound is bitter and filled with menace. ‘When? On her eighteenth birthday? On my deathbed? Tell me, Ness. When were you going to tell me?’
I wipe away my tear and look at him. I want to be mad. I want to shout at him. I want to tell him how difficult the years have been and about how I picked up the phone a thousand times, dialled the palace a hundred, spoke to somebody at least a dozen but never hung on long enough to speak with him directly.
‘All these years, Ness. And you never, not once, thought I might want to know about her.’
I nod my head. ‘OK, I was wrong. I should have told you. But I’m not lying when I say I tried—’
‘Bullshit,’ he spits. ‘Bullshit. What about last night, Ness? What was that about? Are you hankering after a baby brother or sister? Is one love child not enough for you? Were you gonna get knocked up then skip the country taking two of my children with you?’
Infatuated Prince Page 3
