“Have you met Julianna Bellarosa?”
The petite brunette smiled, and her perfect teeth flashed brightly against blood-red lips. I reached for her hand, which she gladly offered, then kissed the back of it. “Not formally, no,” I answered.
The rest of the world knew Julianna as the daughter of Prime Minister Bellarosa of St. Carina, a neighboring country off the coast of Italy. Everyone knew her family the same way everyone knew mine. I knew her thanks to a nude selfie she’d sent to Ashton Messini that ended up going viral. Their relationship didn’t last three months, but the screenshots lasted forever. He sent that shit to everyone in his contact list. I didn’t blame him. She had great tits. Now everyone knew it.
“Nice to meet you, Julianna.” I dropped her hand but held her eyes.
My father took a sip of his scotch then nodded toward a group of men in a far-off corner. “Excuse me a moment. There’s someone I need to speak with.” He set his glass on a passing server’s tray and walked away.
“He’s not great at subtlety,” I said, hoping my grin helped her relax a little.
She returned my smile. “It’s okay. I think we both knew it was coming.”
Julianna got that look in her eyes, the one that only saw used condoms and dollar signs. Too bad, princess. I don’t fuck strangers. The last thing I needed was someone crying wolf and claiming to have the prince’s baby, or worse, saying I’d taken them against their will. I was all for the occasional blow job here, or hand job there, and maybe if the woman was lucky, I would return the favor with a good finger fuck. I may have been a prince, but I sure as hell wasn’t charming. Unless that stranger had sapphire eyes and a mouth that made me crave the taste of her so bad my nuts ached.
I sucked her goddamn finger in a crowded kitchen for fuck’s sake. I never let my guard down, but for this woman I would drop that shit like a bad habit. Then my father would kill me… after he disowned me and burned my crown.
I needed a distraction, and Julianna was it. “I need another drink. You coming?” I asked.
She moved closer to me, stopping with her lips on the edge of my ear. “I think it’s obvious what our parents hope will happen here. So, why don’t we go to your room and give everyone what they want.”
I kept my focus straight ahead, politely smiling at the many faces across the room. My dick reacted to her suggestion, but I made sure the rest of my body didn’t. “Is it? What everyone wants?” I tilted my head to face her.
You have no fucking idea what I want.
Her eyes fell to my mouth. “You tell me…”
She was dripping. I smelled it.
Beautiful. Rich. Wet.
She wanted me, and all I could seem to think about was cupcakes and long blonde hair.
Three
Music echoed through the Great Hall—soulful, powerful, intimate—like a calm voice luring me to follow it. Except I knew where it led, and I wasn’t going anywhere near that gala. Mama would be there, at the queen’s side, laughing and smiling and fitting in. He would be there, deceiving innocent people with his unmistakable perfection, pretending he was every bit as noble as they all believed.
I knew better.
Even if I gave into temptation and followed the seduction of the cello into the Ambassador’s Room, I wasn’t a guest, so I didn’t have an invitation. I wasn’t technically staff, so I wouldn’t be working either. In my world, it was another typical Friday evening with my blanket, a glass of wine, and the beautiful words of Thomas Hardy.
The library was solemn at night, which didn’t mean much because it wasn’t exactly a hot spot during the day. The rich, dark wood shelves, burgundy walls, and a spiral staircase with an intricate iron banister made it seem almost churchlike, holy. No one ever really came to the library. For the most part it sat here in the middle of the West Wing like this great majestic secret—quiet and solitary—almost as though at one time it had been destined for greatness then left abandoned. If rooms had souls, mine and the library’s would be the same.
I scanned the shelves like I didn’t know exactly where Tess of the d’Urbervilles was.
“Is it true?” A gruff, masculine voice made me jump.
Keaton found me. Not that it was hard. If I wasn’t in the kitchen or my villa, I was here. The rest of the castle didn’t concern me.
I spun around, coming face to face with the polar opposite of Sutton. Keaton was rugged where Sutton was smooth. Sutton was the ocean, and Keaton was the forest. The only thing they had in common was their eyes, piercing seas of blue-green that saw into the depths of my soul.
I met Keaton my first day in the library. He’d shown up with a cupcake, making jokes about there being a file hidden inside. I was immediately sucked in by his mischievous smile and killer man-bun-and-beard combination that said look at my pretty face, but don’t you dare effing touch me. He spent the next three weeks shamelessly flaunting his muscles and flirting his way right into my panties. Keaton didn’t need to bring me a file in a cupcake. He was my escape.
His shift must have ended because he’d changed from his uniform into jeans and a white polo that looked like it would split at the seams if he flexed his biceps. A rogue curl from his dark, shoulder-length hair fell in front of his eyes. Anger rolled off him in waves. Forget the book. I grabbed his hand and walked us to a long, leather sofa in the middle of the room.
“Is what true?” I sat down then parted my legs, allowing him to move between them.
“They’re saying he wants you. They’re saying he touched you… that he fucking tasted you, Katie. Like a goddamn sample flavor at Ben & Jerry’s.”
It was only a matter of time before Keaton found out about what happened in the kitchen. People loved gossip, and people loved the royals. More than anything, they loved gossip about the royals.
I scooted to the edge of the sofa and reached for his belt. “He doesn’t want me.” I looked up at him as I unfastened the buckle then the top button of his jeans. “And he didn’t taste me. He tasted caramel.”
It just happened to be on my finger. Inside his mouth. Bathed with his warm tongue.
The music from the gala grew louder, drowning out the sound of me pulling on Keaton’s zipper. He closed his eyes, his breath growing more rapid. “Tell me you don’t want him.”
His thick cock strained against the fabric of his tight boxer briefs. I pulled the elastic band down and set it free, licking my lips at the sight of it. Keaton wasn’t my boyfriend. I didn’t date, and neither did he. We didn’t text each other with heart emojis or talk about our plans for the future. He served in the Royal Guard, and I was a good distraction from all the crap he dealt with.
“I don’t want him,” I said as I curled my fist around his length and began to pump.
“Jesus, Katie,” he said through gritted teeth.
The only light in the room came from a solitary lamp by the sofa and the glow of the moon through stained-glass windows. It was almost romantic. Only it wasn’t. Because this wasn’t about romance. This was about two people who enjoyed getting lost in each other after a long day, and I really needed to get lost right now.
I brought my mouth to him, licking the dewy droplets from the tip of his cock. Keaton threw his head back and groaned. I fisted him harder. Faster. My tongue traced the rim of his thick head while the tips of my fingers slid behind him, between his cheeks and into the crack to tease his tight hole.