Royally Shared

by Madison Faye

  Well, tonight we did, apparently. Tonight, we’d pretend we didn’t live in the age of the internet, and dating apps, and Facebook, and instead we’d spend the evening dancing with eligible princes, to a string quartet, in gowns.

  Welcome to the 21st century, right?

  And the other thing of it was, this whole princess thing was all lost on me. On Ilana though? Well on my older sister, it fit like a freaking glove. She had the long blonde tangles, the big blue eyes, the perfect waist-to-hips ratio, the dainty demeanor — all of it. She knew when to curtsey, when to “demure” her eyes, when to use the right titles, or the right serving forks.

  In short, she was the ideal princess. I mean, honestly, the fact that I’d never walked in on her having a singalong with woodland creatures actually shocked me.

  But me? Well, let’s just say I’d never mastered the curtsey and I had no idea which fork to use, for anything. Ilana fit the part — she played the role perfectly. But I’d known young the whole “princess” thing was going to be a sticking point with me. I preferred the library to the ballroom. I preferred bare feet to heels, jeans to gowns, and a quiet night curled up with a book to one spent twirling around with handsy, rich, pompous windbags trying to marry their way into my father’s titles. Not to mention my bed.

  Yeah, no thanks.

  “You two ready to go yet?”

  Imogen stuck her head into my room. God, that dress looked amazing on her. Chartreuse green with gold trim which played off her fire-red hair perfectly and made her emerald green eyes pop.

  “Oh, c’mon, Isla, maybe try smiling tonight?”

  I rolled my eyes at both of my sisters, doing my best to hide the grin. In spite of both of them being “perfect” princesses, I knew neither of them was thrilled about all this either. It wasn’t Ilana’s fault that she’d been born blonde, and and blue eyed, and knowing when to say the right things. Just like it wasn’t Imogen’s for being born taller than either of us, with crazy long legs, perfect cheekbones, and killer wavy hair. They just both fell into the role we all had to play a little more naturally than I did.

  “Can’t we just skip this, go lock ourselves in the media room, and watch movies and stuff our faces with ice cream all night?”

  “I am so down for that,” Imogen groaned, sinking onto the corner of my bed. “Tonight is going to blow.”

  Ilana groaned. “Don’t tempt me, cause I would totally blow this off if I didn’t think mom and dad would kill us if we did.”

  I giggled. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  “Isla, I think dad would notice if we weren’t there tonight.”

  I made a pouty face in the mirror.

  “Besides,” Imogen sighed. “On the bright side, this is dad actually letting us date.”

  “As if it’s the seventeen hundreds, sure.”

  Ilana laughed. “Oh calm down. It could actually be fun, you know. Yeah, there are some douchey princes out there—”

  “Some?”

  She grinned, rolling her eyes at me. “Okay, there are a lot of douchebag princes out there. But there are some hot, nice ones too.” She sighed. “And like it to not, Iz, we are of marrying age. We can’t hang out in mom and dad’s castle forever.”

  “Watch me.”

  They both giggled, and Ilana shook her head.

  “Well, that’s happening, because that’s our role to play. And it’s not like you have any prospects.”

  “I do too.”

  Ilana’s brow cocked as she glanced at Imogen. “Oh, really?”

  I held my head high, avoiding both of their smirking eyes as I turned back to feign fixing my hair in the mirror. “Yep.”

  Imogen snorted. “Like?”

  “What?”

  She finally caught my gaze in the mirror and gave me a look. “You’re dodging the question.”

  “No I’m not.”

  “Fine.” Ilana shrugged. “So who’s the lucky man then?”

  I glanced down. “Prince Aaron,” I mumbled.

  “Speak up.”

  I signed. “Prince Aaron, if you really must know.”

  My older sisters exploded in laughter. “Prince Aaron of Londaria?” Ilana’s grin was huge across her face. “Isla, that’s four kingdoms over, and you’ve met once.”

  “And he was very nice,” I snapped back.

  “He smiled at you and held a door for you, and that was once, a year ago.”

  “Well that’s nice isn’t it?” I muttered.

  “Have you spoken since?”

  I didn’t answer Imogen.

  “I didn’t think so.” Ilana sighed. “Look, I know it’s not our ideal Saturday night, but tonight’s going be good for you, you know. For all of us.”

  “No it's not.”

  “You do look great.”

  “Well…”

  “And there’ll be lots of princes tonight.”

  “Maybe I don’t want a prince.”

  “Tell that to our father,” Imogen muttered as she stood and checked her hair in the mirror.

  I snorted. Yeah, right.

  “Hey,” Ilana elbowed me in the ribs and winked. “You might even get lucky.”

  Now that was a joke. Under King Lucian’s castle roof, you could be damn sure all three of his daughters were virgins. I had a hard time imagining that changing tonight.

  Ilana took one more look in the mirror, smoothing down her gorgeous blue sequined gown and smoothing her perfectly plaited and bobby-pinned blonde hair.

  “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” I sighed.

  She rolled her eyes. “C’mon, dear sisters. Let’s go find ourselves some husbands.”

  Imogen rolled her eye at me over Ilana’s shoulder. “Oh my God, what year is—”

  “And if I hear either of you moaning about ‘what year it is’ or if I hear the word ‘antiquated,’ I swear I’m pushing you into the punch bowl.”

  I grinned and stuck my tongue out at her. “Fine. Let’s go get this over with."

  Keep reading!

  Find the full book on Amazon!

  Sneak Peek: Triple Daddies

  Triple Daddies

  Some brats like to break the rules,

  Boys, fast cars, and skipping school.

  But for dirty girls who flirt and tease,

  Sometimes big daddies come in threes…

  She’s the forbidden fruit. The apple of temptation. The girl I never saw coming.

  Too innocent. Too so-much-younger. Too much my student. Too much our student, actually.

  Fate threw her in front of me. The feel of her lips on mine had me taking what I never should have touched.

  …My inability to walk away from trouble had me saving her when I should have let it be.

  But now she’s here in my house – me, her college professor. And it’s not just me either, there are three of us living here. Three big, rough, hardened older men – men twice her age.

  …Men who can’t f*cking look away from the tempting little tease sleeping right down the hall.

  But saving her or not, there are rules that she’ll follow under this roof. And when Cora Hartley decides she doesn’t need to follow them, she’s going to learn just how wrong she is.

  Three men like us can only be teased and tested for so long, before she gets a firm hand of discipline.

  …Or three.

  Hang onto your tushies, we’re about to wild. Don’t show your friends this book, they’ll probably judge you. Luckily, I won’t, and my lips are sealed ;).

  Alpha af, wildly over-the-top, silly, steamy, and sweet enough to make your teeth hurt. This mfmm romance is all about her – no m/m. Safe, no cheating, and a HEA guaranteed.

  Please note: this is a VERY loose sequel to Double Daddies, involving side characters from that book. You absolutely DO NOT have to have read that book to fully enjoy this one though!

  1

  Nolan

  The gasp caught in her throat, the whimpered moan breathed into my ear.
My muscles clenched, hands grabbing her tighter as I pushed deep inside. She moaned louder, fingers sliding up my neck and twisting through my hair as her legs clamped around my waist, urging me on.

  I growled into her neck, inhaling the scent of honey and lavender and whatever the fuck it was that’d been driving me wild since the minute she bumped into me — magic pheromones, or voodoo. Whatever it was, it’d had me tripping over my goddamn tongue to taste her since the moment we’d met.

  …An entire ten minutes ago.

  She cried out, arching into me and hugging me tighter as I pinned her to the bathroom door. Her plaid skirt bunched around her waist, the slutty, too-tight too-short white blouse hanging open, her hard, pale pink nipples grazing across my muscled chest. My hands gripped her ass tight, my teeth grazing across the sensitive skin of her neck. Her softy body undulated into me as I drove deep inside, her soaked panties pushed to the side as the slippery heat between her legs welcomed me in.

  No words. No names. No faces — both of ours obscured with the black masks that covered our eyes that the bar had been giving out at the front door. Me, I was dressed as, well, me — dark jeans and a white button-up shirt. The front door guy had asked if I was dressed as a mafia guy. I’d just said “sure.”

  The dirty little school girl rocking her hips against me though — shit, that was something else. Short plaid skirt, barely-there white blouse, knee-high socks and heels. The pigtails and the little white cotton panties were the filthy icing on the cake. The fact that I was actually an educator made the whole fantasy that much more completely wrong, but that didn’t change the fact that my cock was harder than a fucking steel rod.

  “More,” she gasped into my ear, her body tensing against me as her legs pulled me in. I growled as I cupped her jaw with one hand and crushed my lips to hers.

  I wasn’t exactly complaining, but this was not how I’d pictured my night going.

  It’d been the bachelor party that wasn’t. Or rather, it’d still been a bachelor party — as in, a couple of unmarried guys partying it up, but that was it. There was no “and then he got married” part at the end of the story. No, when the bride-to-be runs off with her massage therapist, weddings have a ways of going up in flames like the fucking Hindenburg.

  Oh, don’t feel sorry, my buddy had dodged a big fat bullet on this one.

  No, it wasn’t me who’d been left with my dick in my hand in favor of a douchebag of a “massage therapist” with a spray tan and frosted tips. It was my best friend, Garret, which is why it’d been Max’s and my duty to take him out tonight — the night that was supposed to be his bachelor party — and get him properly fucked the hell up. The mission had been a roaring success, by the way. We’d been asked to leave two bars, been flat out kicked out of a third, and closed down three more. Max had shouldered on and matched Garret drink for drink. I’d followed at my own pace — after all, I had class in the morning and still had a shitload of papers to grade.

  Just because I wasn’t going to get totally fucked up though, it didn’t mean I wasn’t going to be damn sure that I was there for one of my best friends in the world in his hour of need. That’s what the three of us did — we were there for each other, always. Always had been, always would be. We’d grown up basically as brothers — when my parents got taken out by a drunk asshole in an Chevy, it’d been Max’s parents — their best friends — who took me in. Garret lived next door with his mom, and the three of us had been thick as thieves.

  Life had taken us a few different places — me to Wall Street and now academia, Garret to the Navy and now teaching at Gilman College with me. And Max — the skinny kid with the nosebleeds who’d somehow grown up to go first round draft in the NFL and killed it for four seasons before a knee injury took him out.

  Max had already cabbed it back to my place with a completely wasted Garret, but I’d driven my own car. I’d kept my own drinking at a pretty moderate pace most of the night, so I was fine to drive. For whatever reason that night, I took the long way back, and swung by Lake Drive on the way home. I still have no idea why — maybe I just wanted to look out over the water that night. Maybe I just wanted one drink alone before heading home. Maybe I was thirty-five and trying to figure out what the fuck I was doing with my life.

  I mean, I was still young, relatively speaking, gainfully employed doing what I loved which was teaching finance. I had a ton of cash saved up from my Wall Street days, I was single, and I kept in great shape. And yet, there hadn’t been a woman in, fuck, I don’t even know how long. It just hadn’t interested me. No woman had really grabbed my attention in a long ass time.

  Lake Drive was relatively quiet that night, even though a couple of sports bars and a few rows of popular apartments for upperclassman made it a hot spot for the college crowd. But there was also Rory’s, which had been my spot for years, and always had an older-enough crowd and a un-hip enough vibe to keep the college masses away.

  Well, except for that night. That night, I walked up to something between mardi gras and a comic-con spilling out of Rory’s all over the sidewalk. I’d scowled when Sean, the bouncer, had shrugged sympathetically at me and the huge crowd of college kids behind.

  “Did I somehow not know it’s Halloween?” I’d growled.

  “Nah, just a costume party,” Sean had grumbled right back, passing me a mask. “And they’ve got drink specials tonight. Owners wanted to try something new I guess.”

  “Great.”

  But fuck it, I was already there. And the crowd really wasn’t that bad. Minimal “frat bros,” and as much as I’d like to claim it, a saint I am not, and the sheer amount of barely-there costumes and co-ed skin on display was certainly better than the usual crowd of drunks.

  Nothing wrong with looking, I told myself, slipping the mask Sean had given me on as I grabbed a whiskey from the bartender.

  Nothing wrong with looking.

  That is, until I didn’t look, turned sharply, and bumped right into her.

  Her.

  I swore as the whiskey dumped against my shirt, but as the girl tumbled into my arms, suddenly, I didn’t give a shit about my spilled drink. My arms circled her small, tight little body on instinct, the glass shattering to the ground at our feet. Dark chestnut hair spilled against my chest, the scent of her filling my senses and suddenly sending me reeling, every muscle in my body tensing as the smell of her fucking hooked me. She gasped as she looked into my face, and I damn near lost myself in those big blue piercingly gorgeous eyes behind the mask.

  Dark brown hair, lithe figure, legs for fuckin days under the tiny, flirty little schoolgirl skirt. She blinked quickly, her cheeks flushed red and pouty soft lips parted.

  “Sorry,” she breathed, her chest rising and falling under her skimpy little top.

  “Didn’t see you.” I grumbled.

  Her hands gripped my arms tight through my shirt, and her fingers tightened as she glanced behind her through the crowd, her brow wrinkling with worry. My own brow furrowed as I recognized the fear in her eyes.

  “Hey, are you okay—”

  She whirled back, looked me right in the eye, and before I could say a damn thing, she’d thrown her arms around my neck, leaned up, and fuckin’ kissed me.

  Maybe a better man would’ve not kissed her back. Maybe a man thinking with the right head would have stopped, realized he was a professor at the local college in a bar full of college students, and put two-and-two together to get “bad fucking idea.” But like I said, I was hooked the second she crashed into me. I was addicted from the moment I smelled her shampoo, or pheromones, or whatever the fuck it was that’d clawed its way under my skin and wasn’t letting go.

  I didn’t pull back. I didn’t tell her no. I didn’t walk away.

  I fucking kissed her back. Hard. Hard enough that I think I surprised her, her gasp trembling into my lips as my hands slid around her body and yanked her into me. The crowds swirled around us in the dark of the bar, but to me, the rest of the world faded away w
hen I tasted those lips.

  Slowly, she opened her lips for my tongue, moaning quietly as I claimed her mouth. She kissed me back, her body slowly melting into mine and her fingers tightening on my shirt sleeves. The blood roared through my ears, and my cock throbbed rock hard, tenting my jeans as I pulled her against me. This was nothing like me, and not at all the way I operated. But like I said, something about her had me fucking hooked.

  I yanked her into my arms, my hands dropping down to that sweet little ass and grabbing it like it was mine. She whimpered as I pulled her up into me, her legs going around my waist and her body trembling against mine as I pushed the crowd out of the way. I didn’t even stop kissing her as I stormed down the back hallway of the place, or when I kicked open one of the bathroom doors to find two girls dressed like mermaids doing coke off the bathroom sink.

  “Out,” I barked, glaring at them. “Now.”

  The door had barely closed behind them before I’d slammed my mystery girl up against it, crushing my lips to hers and swallowing her moans as I moved against her.

  “What’s your name, beautiful?” I growled into her lips, spreading her legs around my waist and grinding into her, letting her feel exactly how fucking hard I was.

  She whimpered, kissing me hard as her hands dropped to my belt, yanking it open.

  “Isn’t it more fun without names?”

  I groaned as she opened my jeans, her hands sliding inside.

  “Careful, little girl,” I growled. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you to watch out for strangers?”

  “Maybe she didn’t warn me about ones that kissed like you.”