Prince With Benefits: A Billionaire Royal Romance (34 page)

He turns and starts walking to his room. I'm too stunned to talk until it's too late, and the magnificent view of his strong, grabbable ass moving beneath the towel doesn't help.

“Wait!” He slams his bedroom door shut.

There's no sign he heard me, or cares to listen if he did. I gently close my door and begin tearing at the envelope.

I see a date and time – Saturday night. The place – Club Zing. Also, something sensational about blood being spilled, a knock down drag out fight for a good cause, and all the gloves coming off. There's a small glittery ticket with the words VIP stamped on it.

Heaven help me.

I
knew
something was wrong when I fucked the hell out of Maggie and woke up feeling like I hadn't gotten pussy for a week.

No, adding a second or third chick to my debauchery wouldn't have done shit. Neither would heading down to the gym and knocking the shit outta my favorite punching bag 'til my arms go numb.

It's her, goddamn it.
Little Miss Perfect.

Sister. Bitch. Stranger.

Addiction.

Maggie milked my dick dry, and I couldn't even focus on her. My balls wouldn't blow 'til I imagined Claire under me, biting her soft little lip and digging her nails into my back.

Fuck, that lip. I wanna sink my teeth in. I'd kill a man to bite that soft, rosy flap of flesh. And if I told you what I'd do to plant my cock between her legs and slap my balls off her ass, I'd probably be captured and tried for war crimes.

Shit, shit, shit.

My head pounds like a fucking junkie all day while I take a good, hard run along the family's shore. I run for miles, up and down the coast, letting it rain all the fuck over me.

Running's always been a good cure for a lotta shit. Just not this. My knees burn and my heart pounds like it's gonna bust, but I still can't stop thinking about her.

Christ, I'm hard as granite even while I'm running. I don't think it's possible to see Claire in my mind and stay soft. Not unless I've fucked her, the only thing in the universe that'll put me outta this misery.

I hate losing control, and I
really
abhor being strung around by a wet daydream.

I lost my goddamned mind on that run. I lost it to her.

Sweat poured down every inch of me, my skin overheating despite the seaside coolness. By the end, I'd lost my clothes and I was completely naked. I had to strip to keep from self-combusting.

Yeah, running naked gives my old man one more scandal to sweat. By some miracle, none of the assholes out on their yachts noticed a nude guy with tats jogging like a maniac up and down the ten mile stretch of prime Pacific coast. And I kept running too, plowing the sandy beaches 'til my toes hurt like they were stepping on glass, watching the ocean devour the setting sun.

I must've been out all fucking night, feeling the chill wafting in from the sea. It wasn't good for me at all with a fight coming up this weekend, but I had to try something. My options are running
really
fucking thin since I told Little Miss Perfect to fuck off and keep her distance.

I was pissed at her, sure, and now I'm even more pissed at myself for trying to cut her out. I thought I could forget. Since our last fight, I've tried every damned thing I know to scrub the little Sis I never wanted from my crazy skull.

Predictably, nothing fucking works. Nothing that doesn't involve my raging dick getting a full rough introduction to her sopping wet slit.

By morning, a twisted sorta peace has fallen over me. I know what I need to do.

There's no choice but to fish the ticket outta my pocket I was gonna give Maggie. I made up my mind while I was taking the longest, hottest shower of my life, trying to blaze away the ocean cold and get my body's thermostat back to human range.

I stuffed it in an envelope and marched it to her door without looking back.

She stared at me like I had a second goddamned head growing outta my neck when I shoved the envelope in her hands. Her eyes were all over me, big and beautiful and disbelieving. I had to be careful to suppress a smile.

Wasn't easy keeping my eyes off that prissy office blouse on her either. Shit, even now, I can't stop thinking about lifting up her skirt, ripping off her top, and bending her over the nearest desk for a fuck that'll teach her a thing or two about my business end.

I'm haunted. I'm obsessed. I'm fucked.

Of course, she didn't say a word. Barely had time to stammer in that cute and infuriating way she does. I didn't wait for her to get anything out. I pushed what I came to deliver into her hands, then slammed my door shut and stewed 'til I was sure she was gone.

Now, I'm looking at the ruins of my life, and coming to the grim conclusion I
need
to fuck this girl. I'm done without finding out how tight and hot she feels riding my cock. I can't fight, can't function, can't even settle into my own house with her one wall away. I can't be happy getting my dick wet in other chicks, not when I know the best piece of pussy I'll ever have in my life's right next door.

My bed's still a mess from the most unsatisfying sex of my life. Yeah, Maggie's got the looks and she took my hateful thrusts like a champ, but my balls haven't stopped aching because they know damned well what they want.

Who
they want, I should say.

I fucked the last woman in my bed rough and loud. I fucked angry, fucked her with steam whistling through my blood, rutted her soft wet cunt so hard my frustration nearly ripped a few condoms.

I know damn well what I really wanted too while I was railing my club girl in a way she'll never forget. I
wanted
Claire to hear it all.

I'm such an asshole I wanted to keep her up, rob her of sleep, anything to make her wonder what it'd feel like to have my cock owning every inch of her fuckable silk.

How fucked is that? It's pretty far down the road to hell. And if there are a few demons circling like vultures, waiting to usher me in with their pointy pitchforks, I don't give a single fuck.

Everything I care about begins and ends with her holding onto that ticket.

I don't even know if Little Miss Perfect's gonna give me the time of day, much less show up to see me beat the guts out of another dude. My asshole father dropping a new car in her lap's just icing on the shit cake, the fucked up confection we've made with this rampant hate between us.

If she tells me to fuck off forever next time I see her, I won't be surprised. I'll understand.

But there's not a single chance my dick's gonna stop throbbing as long as she's in this house, one wall away, warm and wet and way too perfect.

There's only two choices here. Counting them on one hand just makes me wanna form a fist and smash it through the nearest wall. But I can't ignore it. I can't do shit with this fork in the road except roll the dice and choose a side.

It's simple. I'm either gonna fuck my own step-sister before the summer's out, demolish her high and mighty act forever on my dick, or else I'm gonna end up drooling in a straitjacket.

* * *

I
keep
a low profile for the next few days. Making the rounds at the club earlier in the evenings, then waking up early to train. I skip every bullshit family dinner.

There's no point in seeing Claire 'til she's ready to tell me what the fuck she's decided about my invitation. And there's definitely no reason to subject myself to more evil eyes from my old man, and more fake sympathetic looks from Congresswoman Golddigger.

I wash down my Gatorade with a few shots of thousand dollar bourbon snuck outta my old man's liquor cabinet. It's all I can do to get some shut eye during the day, or else keep myself from marching right through the wall and demanding an answer from Sis.

Sis.
The word alone tells me she's untouchable. But I won't take no for a goddamned answer.

Hell, the taboo is half the reason my cock turns into steel every time I think about taking turns with my mouth, my hands, and my dick between her thighs. If she gets one taste of me, she'll never go back.

One kiss. One squeeze. One wet, growling fuck.

That's the goal here and it's all I need. I refuse to let myself wonder whether or not she's a virgin – thinking she is brings my balls dangerously close to rupturing. If she's ever fucked another man, then I'm gonna fuck every single trace of him away forever when I get my hands on her.

I'm not only gonna fuck her a few hundred times by autumn – I'm gonna hear her beg for it.

* * *

T
here's
a gentle rap at my door early Friday morning. I hit the sheets after a late night at the club. Two drunken shitheads got themselves bloody over some girl, and I had to break it up personally, then hung out past four in the morning for the police report.

The grog instantly fades from my head as I shoot up. I readjust my shorts as I'm walking to hide the massive wood that's been rampaging through my dreams. Tearing the door open, I almost can't believe she's really there.

But she is.

Smart black skirt, baby blue business blouse, and a wavy top that gives her that hot nerdy school teacher look I love on my babes. My dick tries to do a fucking somersault in my boxers.

“You coming to find out when we're leaving, or what?” I try to hide the hopeful tone in my voice.

She lowers her pretty brown eyes right away and I know it's not good news.

“Ty...why do you have to make this so hard?”

Fucking don't,
I want to say.
Don't let me. Don't breathe a goddamned word unless it's about how you're coming with me to the big match.

“I've decided you're more of a hothead than a total asshole.” She pauses, probably stunned by the rosy red blossoming on her cheeks.

“Hothead, huh? Fuck me sideways. That's good news, right?”

“It is,” she says softly, digging her small teeth into that lip I want to rule with my tongue. “Look, you're probably not a bad guy. But if our last few encounters taught me anything, it's that we always end up pressing the wrong buttons. I don't want to piss you off again and cause another crazy argument. And the truth is, I don't know
how
to avoid pissing you off.”

“Easy,” I growl, grabbing at her hand and pulling her inside. The door slams shut behind her with a quick jerk. “You chill with me, look pretty, and laugh at my jokes. I'm not asking for the fucking world, especially when I'm just looking for some sisterly love and support.”

She frowns, throws her hands up. There's a little flinch in her wrists as she comes dangerously close to touching my chest.

No, it's not my imagination, fueled by this raging hard-on I've got for the chick in front of me. She can't keep her hungry eyes off me. I watch as she takes her sweet time trying to regain control, find her words.

“Ty, I'm not saying we have to be enemies...”

“Then what the fuck are you saying? Talk straight. I don't like this dance.” I fold my arms, all I can do to keep from throwing them around her and heading straight for the hot ass underneath that skirt.

“We can't be friends.” She blinks slowly, finding the courage to look at me. “We both know there's too much tension between us. God, it's more than just the constant bickering. You know what I'm talking about too.”

Her eyes are bright, searching, pleading to come much closer to mine. Know it? Fuck yeah, I do.

Unlike her, I'm way past ignoring it. I stop her right there, close the small space between us, and rip my t-shirt shirt off.

“Know what, babe? I know you're bullshitting me, pretending you don't want to see this shit in action.” I flex my muscles, bowing up like a fucking peacock.

God help her, she smiles, lights up in the middle of all the confusion and anguish pulling at her face.

“Come the fuck on,
Sis.
We're family. We'll never be picture perfect, but we don't need to kid ourselves. Be straight – just for once in your life. Forget prim and proper.” Fire shoots through my veins, and I push her to the wall, running one hand through her hair. “Be honest.”

“I – I can't...”

My free hand goes straight to my dick. I wait 'til she looks down, and then I give all ten angry inches in my boxers a squeeze, letting her see it jerk in my fist, drool the pre-come I wanna gush inside her.

“You want me, babe. Admit it. After all the blowouts we've had, after all the times we've locked horns, you'd still be all over this unruly bastard in my pants if I wasn't your step-brother. This bullshit marriage is the only thing that's stopping us from breaking the bed.”

“Ty! No, no.” She shakes her head ferociously, trying to get away. “See, this is what I'm afraid of...”

“Don't be scared. Embrace it. We gotta talk about this shit out in the open if we ever wanna move past it. I'm no psychologist, but I know sticking our heads in the sand like goddamned ostriches won't fix shit. It's okay to want this body, Sis. It's okay to think about me fucking you. I've had the same thoughts – and I want more than fantasies.”