Prince's Dirty Little Secret (A Royal Secret Baby Romance) (6 page)

So I'm surprised when he says, "A cheetah cub was recently born at the royal menagerie. I haven't yet seen it and I'd like you to accompany me."

"Ah," I say, "A cheetah. Let me guess, stolen just like the oil painting in the library?"

He gazes at me, a look of amazement on his face. "You are a connoisseur of art?"

"No," I say. "Just a reporter. It was a big story when that thing went missing."

"My little pet," he says, "I did not steal the painting. I purchased it.
I
paid the money."

"But you knew it was stolen."

He raises his eyebrows and scoffs. "Well, you'll be pleased to know that North Molvania's cheetahs were a gift from the late monarch of Mali. One-hundred percent legitimate."

"Fine," I say, "Let's go pet some cats."

T
HE CHEETAH CUB
can't be more than a couple weeks old, but it's already bouncing around and playing, full of energy. It's so cute with its golden fur and tiny black spots.

Nikolai stands next to me outside the cheetah enclosure, leaning his elbows against the railing and watching the cub play.

"Zookeeper!" he belts out, and a guy wearing a tan jacket and a safari hat comes rushing around the corner.

"Bring us meat to feed the cats."

"Yes, my prince," says the man, bowing. He rushes back around the corner, and returns a minute later with a silver bucket. He sets it down. It's full of bloody, torn meat scraps.

"Gross," I say to Nikolai." I'm not touching that."

He laughs. "Don't be silly." He bends down, and I see his strong calves and triceps in motion, the muscles and tendons in his body chording perfectly. As much as I hate to admit it, he's like art in action when he moves. And he's much more interesting to look at than his stolen oil painting.

When he stands up, he's holding a bundle of bloody, stringy meat in his hands.

"Eww," I squeal. "Getting your hands dirty, huh? Guess you're used to that."

His eyes narrow, displeased. He doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he tosses the meat over the fence. The baby doesn't immediately pounce, but the momma cat does. She takes a piece in her mouth, and then deposits it next to the baby, nosing it and encouraging it to eat.

"Let us discuss this," says Nikolai. "You have made many wild accusations. Frankly, I ought to throw you in the dungeon for your indiscretions."

"Of course," I say. "That's all you know how to do. Punish and kill."

He whirls around to face me. "Bollocks," he says, and I wonder how that word got into his vocabulary. "I put no one to death who does not deserve it."

"You're bullshitting me. Then explain the work camps."

"These 'work camps' you speak of," he says, drawing quotation marks in the air with his fingers, "Are where we send irredeemable criminals." Then he adds, "And not even 'we.' Him. My father. As I told you before, they are outside my discretion."

"That's a cop-out. You're turning a blind eye. They're brutal prisons where people go to be tortured and die. Not just criminals, either. Political prisoners."

"I told you, I cannot be held accountable," he says, but he avoids eye contact.

Inside the cage, the baby is tearing apart the meat scraps. Getting its first taste of blood. And it likes it.

"Have you seen how your people are living? First-hand?"

"As the Crown Prince of the country, my domain is the capital city, Caprion. I grow tired of reminding you—"

I cut him off. "Stop evading the issue," I say, frustrated. "You have a duty to your people. Don't say you're waiting until you're King. You can do something now."

He is silent for a long time before he replies. "Very well," he says, "I will investigate your claims."

"Investigate?"

"I will go see for myself, as you suggest."

"And then?"

"And then… we will see."

That's not the answer I was looking for, but I think it's as good as I'm going to get for now. I watch the cheetahs, not speaking.

"Jenna," he says, turning his body toward me. "Do you truly think so poorly of me?"

A month ago, my answer would have been yes. But the more I get to know him, the more I feel like there's a good man under there somewhere. I feel like he might come around.

And if I can get through to him, this might be the most important thing I've ever done. Even more important than breaking some huge news story.

"No," I say. "I don't. But I think you need to open your eyes."

"My little pet," he says, moving closer, "You are the only one who dares to challenge me like this. I will take seriously what you say. I promise."

I look into his eyes, and everything else seems to get hazy.

"You will?" I feel like I'm falling into him. And for the first time, I feel like maybe that could be… okay.

So when he leans forward to kiss me, I kiss him back. Much harder and deeper than I did the last time.

His scent fills my nostrils, and it's not the scent of an evil man.

When our lips finally part, I'm holding his shoulders with my hands, standing on my tiptoes to meet his lips. I feel excitement coursing through me.

"My little pet," he says. "Can I interest you in an afternoon nap?"

Well… this just got interesting.

W
E LIE TOGETHER
in a hammock on the castle roof. It's an enclosed greenhouse, a self-contained biological ecosystem. The air inside is cool and damp, and the hammock sways gently, suspended between two strong oak trees. Vines and flowers wrap around the tree trunks, and all around us, nature blooms. I've never seen anything like this before.

I've also never felt anything like what I feel now, as I lay my head against Nikolai's chest in the hammock. I run my hands up and down his abs through his button-down shirt, and strong tingles of sexual possibility run through my body. He has an arm around me. It feels surprisingly good. I haven't taken an innocent nap together with a boy since college. Well... maybe it wasn't so innocent then, and it's not so innocent now. But damn, does it feel good.

He twists his head, pressing his lips against mine. His lips are smooth, full, and soft, a perfect shade of light pink that complements his dark complexion so well. He has a rough five o'clock shadow, and the sun never seems to set on it.

I can see the outline of his cock through his pants, and I can see that he's hard. Part of me wants to reach out, grab it, and submit myself to the untold pleasures that he can give me. I'm wet between my legs, and my nipples are hard under my shirt. It's like I'm naked in a snowstorm, even though the climate inside this greenhouse is warm and tropical.

But I'm not sure. I still have reservations. I'm not sure that he has my best interests at heart, and I'm still angry that he won't go confront the King right now about what's happening in his country. But I've always been good at seeing through people's bullshit, and my gut tells me that he's going to change his tune when he sees things with his own eyes.

I guess I have to take things at their own pace.

"Jenna," he says, "tell me more about yourself."

That's a vague request. I don't know how to answer it. "What do you want to know? More about America?"

"No. I grow tired of that line of conversation. You said you were engaged. Tell me what happened."

I almost tell him to shove it, but then I remember that his fiancée passed away too. Maybe on this issue we will understand one another.

"Well, I met him in college. And we thought we were going to get married and spend our lives together. But one day he went out to get a bag of cheeseburgers, and he didn't come back. His car was t-boned by a drunk driver."

Nikolai doesn't respond right away. "It saddens me to hear that. My condolences."

"It took a long time to get over it," I admit.

"I too thought I had met the partner of my dreams."

"And what happened?"

"Executed by a terrorist from the south. They used her as a pawn in their game against me." A look of sadness comes over his face. "I was young and naive then, and I failed to protect her. Never again," he says, "will I make that mistake."

"Damn. That's fucked up."

"Yes. It was, as you say, 'fucked up.' But, my little pet, that is neither here nor there. Thank you for sharing your story with me."

"Of course," I say, "I hope it helps you." I actually mean that when I say it. I genuinely feel bad for him, and I understand what he's going through. Well, sort of. Not the terrorist part.

He turns his head to face me as we lay in the hammock, and he runs his fingers through my hair. His fingers feel strong and thick, and I wonder how much pleasure they would provide. They feel pretty good just on the back of my head.

"I want you," he says.

I want him too, but I resist. "How do I know I'm not just a replacement for your fiancée?"

"You are nothing like her. She was beautiful as well, but obedient, not wild as you are. I have thousands of women at my beck and call who would be delighted to be her replacement."

"You really want me?" I ask.

"Yes. Very much so."

Fuck it. I can't say no anymore. Can't deny my body what it wants.

I lean in, and I kiss him deeply.

He kisses me back with a ferocity that I've never felt before. He's like an animal, like the cheetahs in the royal menagerie. Just raw power and desire, his body eclipsing mine in the hammock. He straddles me, and I feel his thick, hard cock pressing against my thigh as he plants kisses down my cheek and neck. God, it's ridiculous how badly I'm aching for him.

He grabs the lapels of my shirt and tears it open like paper, the buttons flying off with a series of popping sounds. He kisses my chest, the rough stubble on his face scratching my soft, pale skin. He brings his hands up my body, running them over my legs, my tummy, and finally my breasts. He cups my breasts through my bra and I feel myself flush with excitement.

I want him so badly to rip my bra off my body just like he did with my shirt. I want him to see everything I have to offer him. I want to give him pleasure. And I want to receive it from him.

He doesn't make me wait. He continues to straddle me, his cock hardening even more, its full length pressing against my thighs and belly. God, he must be nine or ten inches. I'm terrified and excited at the same time. It's been way too long since I've gotten laid, and I've never had something this big inside me. I'm hungry to feel it. I want to know how it feels pressing deep inside me, stretching me out for him.

He runs his fingers under the cups of my bra, and his fingertips brush against my hard nipples. His touch sends a surge of pleasure through my skin, all the way down between my legs. Every time I wiggle underneath him, I can feel my slick folds rubbing against each other, getting looser, getting ready to take him inside me. It's almost as if my body knows how badly I need him inside me.

"Jenna," he whispers to me, "You are the most perfect creature I have ever seen."

I grin, running my hands along his abs through his shirt, feeling the deep ridges. "You're not bad yourself. Now take this off." I tug on his shirt.

He pulls it over his head and throws it onto the ground below the hammock. He's muscled and defined, every contour exactly as it should be, not an ounce of fat on his body.

He grabs the cups of my bra again, then with a quick pull, snaps the elastic fabric completely, uncovering my breasts. His eyes roam over my chest, and I see the lust in his eyes. I know he wants me, but I think I want him even worse.

"Touch me," I beg. I need it so bad.

He leans his head down and places his lips against my right nipple, gently circling it with the tip of his tongue, sucking. I moan, running my fingers through his thick hair, pulling his head in closer to my body.

"Little pet," he says, "I am going to tear you apart."

"Do it," I say heavily. I'm almost out of breath and we haven't even started.

"Tell me how bad you need it."

"I wanna feel your cock all the way inside me," I say. "The whole thing. Please."

"Please,
my prince
."

Under any other circumstance, I'd laugh him right out the door. But I don't care right now. I'll say anything to get him inside me.

"Fuck me, my prince," I say. "Please. I need it."

He grunts with approval, running his hands over my breasts and tummy, tugging, pulling, squeezing, exploring every inch of my body.

I reach down to his belt, unbuttoning his pants. I slip a hand behind the elastic waistband, and for the first time, I feel the bare skin of his cock against my fingertips. The head is big and thick, and I can hardly imagine how it's going to fit inside me, much less his entire length.

He reaches down and pulls his pants off, revealing the full length of his manhood. God, it's glorious. I wrap my fingers around it, gliding them up and down lightly, feeling his cock twitch in my hands.

"Spit on your hands."

I lick my palm until it's glossy with my spit, and put it back on his cock. He jerks back, closing his eyes and moaning softly.

"Does that feel good?" I ask him, jerking his cock up and down.

"So good," he says, reaching down to my pants. He slides them down to my knees, and I don't even bother kicking them off.

He pushes my hands away from his cock, pinning them down above my head. He shifts himself, and I suddenly feel his erect cock pressing against my tight, wet entrance through the black lace fabric of my panties.

"Oh god," I moan. "I need it inside me."

He puts two fingers over the black lace, pressing them hard against my clit. Pleasure surges through my legs, my body flooding with excitement.

"Stop fucking around, and fuck me," I say.

That's all the encouragement he needs. He slides my panties to the side with his fingers, exposing my wet, swollen slit to him. He pushes the huge head of his cock against my opening, my wetness and my saliva lubricating our skin.

He slides his cock in slowly. I cry out as it stretches me wider than anything I've ever had before. But I feel my muscles loosening up, my body adapting, eager to have this man inside me.