Prince With Benefits: A Billionaire Royal Romance (19 page)

A few more Republic First disruptors go down when they come for the motorcade, tackled by my boys. A couple thousand more people get my smile, my wink, my grey gloved hand waving their way with grace and reassurance.

I don't have the soft, motherly air Her Majesty brings. But I can tell the people I won't let them down. They're safe, happy, and prosperous with me, whatever the media jackals and the protesters say.

“Sire, the King Winston bridge is coming up next. Several ministers there from the EU, China, and India are waiting. They're scheduled to meet you after the parade, as planned, and we've given them one of the best spots in the city to observe your arrival.”

“Of course. Wonderful work, Victor.” I see him glowing in the rear view mirror.

That pride's starting to rub off on me, but not because I give a damn about the old, robotic diplomats waiting to shake my royal hand. Slowly, I turn to Erin, a smile creeping across my lips when I see the sweat building on her brow.

She's dying to come. Lucky her, I'm finally going to make it happen, just as soon as the dignitaries are in sight.

I slide across the seat, coiling one hand around her shoulder. “I'm going to kiss you, love, and you're going to give it up.
All
of it.”

“Silas, God yes...please.”

Please. Fuck, now she's showing me.

Holy shit. Her big brown eyes are huge, pleading, completely mine. She's still begging, and I'm worried I'm going to lose it in my trousers when I bring her off like I promised it.

Fuck it. My free hand slips into my pocket while the other tightens on her shoulder, squeezing her so hard it should hurt ever-so-slightly. I clench my jaw, rolling my thumb against the wheel, just as I see the tall, shadowy figures of men and women in fine suits standing on the huge stone bridge.

“You can't look at me like that, Princess,” I whisper, hearing a moan slip out her mouth. “You keep that up, you're going to make me fall in love. Don't, for both our sakes. I don't know how to deal in hearts – only in the best fucking sex you'll ever have in your life.”

I'm sweating like mad, saying shit I know I shouldn't. Don't know whether it's my slip up or my finger gliding across the wheel that sends her into heaven. The wheel cranks as far as it can, making me think I can hear the little toy vibrating inside her when we pass through a quiet break in the crowd.

“Oh. My. God...Fuck!” Those are the only four words I can make out when I feel her start shaking.

She clenches my suit, hangs on for dear life. She comes, harder than I've ever seen her explode. My head leans on hers, pushing her mouth to my wrist. I let her bite it so she won't scream while the tsunami I've unleashed in her body sweeps her into another world.

“You're bad for me, Princess,” I tell her, hoping my dick won't rip through my trousers just watching this. “Look at you. Coming for me, coming like mad, soaking the fucking seat in front of all these ministers and ambassadors. I ought to pull you down on my throne, and spank your hot little ass until you scream.”

She squeals against my skin. Rocking in her seat, gushing underneath that dress, coming until she can't even breathe.

It's too much – for everyone. My dick barely holds onto the fire raging in my balls.

Vic clears his throat in the front seat, and the idea of being discovered back here throws cold water on my desire for a split second.

My eyes shift off the beautiful woman twitching next to me. He's talking into his radio, not looking back at us in the mirror, thank fuck.

I don't start turning down the intensity until she whimpers. Then my lips smash down on hers, sucking whatever pleasure I can from her mouth, awed by the burn of her teeth marks on my wrist.

What the hell is happening? Playing pretend isn't supposed to be this wild.

It's a fake engagement to a fake wife, and the f-word is sounding extra hollow the more it's said.

Fake, fake, fake. Fuck.

Fake isn't supposed to bring my cock to the brink. Fake damned sure isn't supposed to make me admire every inch of her when she's buried in her orgasm. Fake definitely isn't kissable when she comes down from it, looks up at me, and sucks my eyes into hers with a single blink.

I'm starting to freak out, but I don't show it. I just kiss her harder, until she stops moving, and I make sure the remote is turned to off.

“Time to stop playing slut and do Princess again,” I say, taking her hand as I sit back in my seat.

“Really? You haven't realized how talented I am yet?” Erin sticks her tongue out for a split second. “I was born to multi-task.”

“Careful, babe. The cameras are watching every second.”

Absurd advice, after I just gave her one of the best orgasms in her life on film, and we both know it. She looks at me, smiling, shaking her beautiful head.

“You're so ridiculous. Did you mean what you said about love?” Her tone turns more serious. “When we were in the heat of the moment, I mean...”

I don't know. I'm about to wiggle my way into some wishy-washy, half-assed escape when royal duty sweeps in to save me.

Our car stops. Erin's passenger door pops open, and I see her valet standing there, holding the door. “They're waiting next to the conference center, at your convenience, Your Highness.”

She flashes me another quizzical look just before we slide out. I've bought myself some time, but she isn't going to let this go.

I never should've ran my mouth. Hell, I should've kept the strange thoughts and feelings from invading me, speaking their evil out loud.

Meeting these ministers and smiling pretty for the cameras might be the easiest thing I do all day. Who knew making this woman come her brains out in the riskiest, hottest way ever would have such a steep price?

Her touch doesn't betray anything when I take her arm. About a dozen dignitaries stand at attention, waiting for us at the end of the bridge, next to the conference venue.

Most of them bow when we approach. The others shake hands. One big Russian diplomat I've met before lets his gaze linger on my wrist too long.

“I trust you're in...good health, Your Highness?”

I smile, slipping my hand into my pocket, hiding the reddish impressions Erin's little teeth have left in my skin. “Never better, Sergei. Too much rock climbing last week in the highlands.”

He nods enthusiastically. “Da, da. They used to bring us to the Urals for training in the army. Amazing how the mountains look so beautiful, but cut so deep, no?”

“Yeah.”

Yeah.
He doesn't have a fucking clue.

* * *

S
everal hours
of trade talks and a dinner fit for a Roman emperor later, we're back at the palace. I've passed the dignitaries off to the kingdom's trade minsters to iron out the fine print on several new agreements.

Technically, it isn't royalty's role to get involved in politics, or make any real decisions like this for the nation. In practice, we've been charming the best and brightest from all over the world to see things our way for at least a hundred years.

Erin hasn't said much since dinner. I saw her drinking lots of water, barely touching the champagne, which tells me the gift I gave her in the car practically sucked her soul out. Or at least half the water molecules in her sweet skin.

Best of all, I'm not done yet. Far from it.

Next time, we'll come together, and I'll banish this painful swelling between my legs that's been taunting me all evening.

“So, we're staying here tonight? Not going back to the castle?”

I shake my head. “Not while I'm in charge. You slept like a baby in the chamber last night anyway, love.”

She doesn't deny it. I can say the same thing, really, which is weird.

I haven't felt so at home in the palace since my parents were still around. Before I was old enough to realize the picture perfect days they gave me as a boy were lies. Before those days became hellish nights where they fought late into the darkness, storming off to separate rooms when they were finally exhausted...

My old place at the castle has lost its charm, and it's not just because I'm effectively head of state with grandmom in the hospital.

I think about my old club downstairs, the parties I hosted in the huge lounge, endlessly stocked with fine scotch and even finer women.

It doesn't do shit for me. Something's changed big time, because nothing does it anymore.

Nothing except getting Erin Warwick naked, sweaty, and moaning even touches my crank.

She pulls ahead of me, holding my hand, making her way to the big staircase that will take us up to our room. I stop her right there.

“Hold up. I have a detour in mind,” I say softly, taking her in the opposite direction.

My dick jerks. I'm crazy for doing this, but when will I get another chance?

I can't ignore the fantasy I had in the car while I teased her pussy raw. Fucking her in the throne room, the holiest, most taboo place possible, where there's always bound to be somebody around.

Except for tonight because I have an idea.

We walk quickly, and I guide her through the ancient passages, careful to avoid the places where I think the guards are likely to be on night patrol. Erin's eyes go wide when we're stopped, standing in front of the huge handcrafted door. Two honor guards come to attention and salute.

“At ease. I'd like to show my lady the throne room while there's some peace and quiet. We won't be long.”

“Aye aye, Your Highness.”

My greedy grip tightens on her hand. She knows what's coming – both of us, naked and grunting like animals while we fuck on gold and gemstones. Completely surrounded in the luxurious rapture that can't be duplicated anywhere else.

I won't get another chance like this for years, maybe decades. Her Majesty will be home soon. If the day comes when I'm King, there will always be someone posted inside, waiting for my royal ass to get parked in the seat and take care of business.

It's the first time I've been inside it by myself since I was a kid. I look around, letting out the slightest whistle when the huge doors behind us slam shut.

The fire isn't even lit. I have to walk over to the fireplace myself and start the gas.

There's no Patricia, no Victor, no foreign emissary in shock and awe from standing in front of the richest royal family in the world.

There's nobody. Just the ghosts of everybody who ever wore this crown, probably staring in horror at what I'm about to do. Maybe a few of my ancestors from the middle ages are cheering me on – the old Kings were notorious bastards, scoundrels who'd fuck the finest woman in every village in between their dirty orgies.

“So, why are we here?” She says nervously. Like she doesn't already know.

I turn, taking her into my arms, pressing my lips to hers for a good, long minute. “We're here tonight because of what I said in the car.”

Staring, she cocks her head. It's adorable, and it really fucking shouldn't be.

I let out a long sigh. “Look, love, I've never been great with words. Actions mean more. If a man can't show you what he means, what good is he?”

I take her hand, lead her over to the huge golden chair in the center. My butt hasn't touched the ridiculously comfy burgundy cushion since I was twelve years old, but now it does.

I sink down, feeling lightning roll up my back, pulling Erin onto my lap. My hands roam her curves, doing circles on her thighs, resisting the urge to rip right through that dress she has on.

“You can't be serious!” she whispers sharply. “Silas, of all the things you've done,
this
is too much. We can't get caught – I can't. You're not telling me anything. Why are we here?”

“Like you don't already know, love. I haven't been in this room informally for years,” I say, quickening my circles on her legs. Her thighs shift open, and my cock pulses again. “I was a little shit in my early teens.”

“You? Never.” She rolls her eyes, pushing playfully against my chest.

I catch her wrists with my free hands. Pulling her closer, we kiss before I continue my story. I'm not sure where the hell it's going, considering the blood rushing to my temples, making me hear the heartbeat that's pounding in my balls.

It's hard to think about anything except how bad I want my cock in my Princess.

“I snuck down here with a smoke bomb when I was a kid. Thought I'd throw it in the fireplace and let the white smoke roll out the palace chimney, get it thick over the city, in mom's memory. It was about a year after she died. Got the idea from watching the Pope being elected, watching the white smoke roll out the Vatican. That fucking counselor they hired, I wouldn't tell him anything. Words wouldn't help me then, and neither would any shrink. Thought I could remind myself and remind the country she isn't really gone, as long as we remember.”

She blinks raw emotion. “That's a little more touching than I expected. So, what happened?”

“It was the wrong kind of smoke bomb. The damned thing detonated in the fireplace and blew the glass doors to hell. Guards rushed in, thinking it was a terrorist. I never heard the end of it from dad, my nanny, and the prick who kept hounding me to talk through my feelings.”