Owned By the Prince by Tristan Rivers
Chapter 12
Max
It’s been a shit of a day. My father’s spent the past 24 hours trying to persuade me to go on a tour of the Commonwealth, and I’ve been steadfastly refusing. They’re never satisfied. I only just got back from war. Why can’t they give me a damn break? And if that wasn’t enough, he got on my arse about my wedding again. I don’t fucking want to marry Clarice. We’ve been “intended” for each other since we were small children. She’s dying to make the match, so her family will get off her back and stop giving her a hard time for being gay. My family is dying to make the match because, “You realize she’s the most eligible female in the whole country, don’t you Max?” So I don’t run off and marry someone unsuitable, of course. I don’t know what they have in mind. Clarice and her long-term girlfriend, Rebecca; and me and whoever happens to be my flavor of the month. That all four of us are going to live in the palace, like some big happy family? And the media won’t find out about this? Please. I snort. There’s no way in hell I’m getting involved in this charade. They’re all mad. I had been looking forward to seeing Freddie, but he started crapping on about Clarice, too.
And then we ran into Blair, looking sexy as hell in her workout clothes, and Freddie got that look in his eye. “Cut her loose, old man,” he told me. “I can see you already like her more than you should. Keep going to your parties, enjoying your kinky shit. But leave that girl alone. She’s trouble.”
At that point, I lost it. No one is going to tell me what to do any more. I’m fucking done with it. Screw the lot of them. And that’s why I’m taking Blair out to dinner tonight. I told James to prepare a security detail, got my assistant to pick out a dress for her, and had a table arranged at Mimosa, one of my favorite restaurants in Londis. The food is excellent, all the other guests are similarly keen to protect their privacy, and there’s an extremely convenient, secluded entrance to the building.
There’s a knock on my door and, in tandem, my lips tug into a smile and my cock twitches. Blair looks incredible. The dress is gold-colored, and made from a drapey fabric that makes it skim her body, like she’s been dipped in a vat of gold. I make her give me a twirl. It’s backless, revealing her lovely rear view, stopping a couple of inches above the cleft of her arse. She’s also wearing high sandals, and her hair is swept up into a knot. She looks as classy as any royal, and far more beautiful.
I tell her she looks stunning.
“Thanks,” she says, but there’s a distance in her eyes. It’s my fault. I know I’ve been an arsehole for the past twenty-four hours.
Outside the palace, we climb into a limo, and a whole entourage of unmarked cars surrounds us.
“Do you prefer Italian or Japanese fusion?” I ask her during the journey. Another thing I like about this place is it has two separate dining rooms, so your date is never disappointed by the cuisine.
“Tonight, Italian for sure,” she tells me. “I ended up running eight miles today, and I’ve got a killer appetite.”
“Excellent.” Most of the women I know live on sushi, because there’s fuck-all calories in it.
“How was the rest of your day?” I ask, as a battered, old, white sedan passes us. From experience, I know it’s being driven by the chief of security, but it’s such a piece of junk that it’s even been pulled over by the police before, throwing the security detail into disarray.
“Oh, fine. Just getting though my college work.”
“What are you studying right now?”
She throws me a sideways glance. “Are you interested?”
I can’t resist breaking into a grin. She’s so goddamn feisty. And I love it. She doesn’t act like I’m the fucking anointed one. She treats me, I guess, like any other guy.
“I am as a matter of fact. I’ve always wanted to know more about economic theory.”
Her expression turns sardonic, as if she can’t tell if I’m mocking her. Then she shrugs. “You asked for it,” she says and launches into one of the most interesting lectures I’ve heard in my life. She explains at a level a layperson can understand and somehow manages to make the subject captivating. Her eyes are bright with enthusiasm when she speaks, and I have a weird urge to pepper her face with kisses.
“You’ve made me want to go back to university,” I say when she’s finished.
She cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t think it’s your style. I can’t see you being a nerd.”
If her comment was supposed to sting, it worked. “Maybe you don’t know me well enough.”
We pull up behind the restaurant. The entourage appears to melt away. It’s just an illusion though, of course. I climb out of the car and reach for her hand. She steps out elegantly, and I enjoy the curiosity in her eyes as she looks around.
We enter a very run-down looking door and walk through a dingy passageway.
“Where are you taking me, Max?” she asks. Her tone is playful, but it carries a hint of tension. We’re actually passing through three buildings and an underground tunnel to the opposite side of the street. And at last, we arrive.
“Wow. This is—nice,” she says when I open a plain black door, and the restaurant is revealed in all its louche beauty. “Very modern and cool.”
“I’ll take that as high praise,” I say with a laugh.
“It is, it is. But not what I expected at all.”
“You mean you thought it would be stiff and formal? All white tablecloths?”
“Uh, yes.”
I laugh. “That’s all I get at the palace, day after day. This is where the rich and famous come to get away from all that. But don’t worry—it has three Michelin stars. You’re going to love the food.”
“Now, you’re talking,” she says. The waiter shows us to a secluded table. Although the place is full, no-one stares at us. Everyone knows that giving me any unwanted attention means they’ll never be able to eat here again.
I notice that Blair is more relaxed away from the palace, and I’m glad I brought her here instead of one of the stiff, formal places I was considering. A stupid part of me wanted to impress her, but I can tell she’s not a girl to be impressed by superficial things. I check myself. Why did I want to impress her anyway? She’s my pet. Nothing more. But as the thought crosses my mind, I know that’s not true.
“To what do I owe the honor?” she asks the second we’re alone.
The fire in her eyes takes me aback. She’s angrier than I imagined. “Of me taking you out for dinner?”
“Yup.”
I shrug. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I’m just your plaything. Your hired pet. Why would you take me on what looks a lot like a date?”
Ouch. I lay my hands on the table, palms up. “I enjoy your company. What’s wrong with that?”
Her expression is impassive. She’s not taking the compliment. “I don’t get it.”
“Look. I’m sorry about being so brusque last night, and today with Freddie. The family gets on top of me sometimes. They’re never satisfied.”
She gives me a long look. “See. This is why we’re not actually on a date. If I was dating any other guy, I’d ask what your family have been saying to you. But I can’t.”
I exhale a long breath. “I know. I know this is hard.” I fall silent, turning things over while the waiter brings over a bottle of my favorite Chianti. I want to tell her the truth—that I’ve been muddling through ever since I was forced to bring her to the palace for her own safety. But it’s a bad, bad idea. I can’t let her know the family has a far darker side than the public realizes. “I just want to try to make it up to you,” I say instead.
She cocks an eyebrow. “This food better be damn good,” she says at last.
I grin. “You’re a tough cookie. I like that a lot.”
The waiter returns to take our order, and we choose starters and entrees.
She leans back in her seat, takes a long drink of her wine, nods appreciatively at the taste. “Answer me one thing: if you like me being ballsy and independent, how come you like controlling me so much?”
“That’s a very good question.” I exhale slowly. “First of all, I’ve only ever disciplined girls who want it.”
She thrusts her jaw forward. “You didn’t give me much choice in the matter.”
I smile at the recollection of me bending her over my knee. Her shock and outrage. And arousal.
“No? You didn’t go crazy. Scream the palace down. In fact, you squirmed on my knee, like you wanted a whole lot more.”
I think I see a flush rising to her cheeks. “You’re saying it’s two sides of the same coin?”
“I can tell you hold yourself in a lot. And it’s beautiful to see you let go.”
“It is?” she says with a hint of shyness.
The tension in my shoulders uncoils. She gets it, I think. This smart, sassy girl, who’s never been touched by a guy other than me. The thought hardens my cock instantly.
“How have you never had a boyfriend before?” I ask, the words pouring out of my mouth before I can check them.
She shrugs. “I’ve dated a little. But I was too busy studying for anything serious. Guess no one really popped up on my radar and made me want to change that.”
“It would take a hard-arse guy to take you on.”
“You think so?” There’s that feisty look in her eye again, as if she’s a second from swiping me with her claws.
“I mean that as a compliment. Really.” I reach for her hand across the table, and press a kiss to her knuckles. “I enjoy your company, more than you know. Now, shall we have a nice time together?”
Just like that, she lights up, breaking into a smile worthy of a Hollywood starlet. “I think my glass needs refilling.”
After that, there is no more tension between us. We just enjoy the wine and food and chat about this and that.
“What happened to your thigh?” she asks me casually during the main course.
I hesitate. “Just a small wound. It’s almost healed now,” I tell her, which is the truth.
“I’m sure you saw a lot of horrific things in Afghanistan.”
I look at her, startled by her perceptiveness. “I did.” And without meaning to, I tell her all about my experiences there, the friends I lost, the other good friends injured far worse than I was. She listens intently, asks gentle questions. She’s a fucking angel, and unbelievably, I feel a little better when I’m done.
While we’re waiting for dessert to arrive, she excuses herself to go to the bathroom. As she stands, I catch her wrist. “Take your panties off and hand them to me when you return,” I say, close to her ear. She looks at me without replying, her eyes dark in the candlelight and unreadable.
I imagine her slipping the panties off in the toilet cubicle, how different she must feel without them. In five minutes, she’s back, pressing them into my hand as she sits down. To my delight, I discover they’re damp. Did that happen in the last few minutes, or was she aroused before that, at being around me? My erection grows, and I know it’s going to be very difficult for her to keep her virginity tonight.
“How does that feel?” I ask.
“Fine.” She gives me a hard look.
I match it, narrowing my eyes. “Tell me the truth.”
She exhales hard through her nostrils. “I feel vulnerable. Hot. Like I’m going to leave a mark on the back of this expensive dress.”
I can’t stop myself from smirking like a pervert.
She starts eating her panna cotta. I wait until she’s swallowed a mouthful so she doesn’t choke. “Move your knees apart. At least six inches,” I tell her. Her eyes dart behind me. “No one’s going to see.” I reach under the table to feel her knees slowly separating. I give them an extra push, so they’re more like a foot apart. Her cheeks turn rosy pink. It’s fucking delicious.
“Tell me about the economy of an African country,” I say.
“What?”
“You haven’t studied that region?”
“I have—”
“So tell me what you know.”
Her forehead puckers, giving her an adorably serious look. And she starts telling me all about Namibia. My eyes linger on her face. Those fucking intense eyes with their laser-beam glow, that cute little nose, those perfect rosebud lips that handled my cock like a pro. I drop my gaze and take in her nipples, pebbled beneath the dress. And I imagine that sweet, virgin pussy, begging to be taken by me.
It’s time to go home.
We leavethe restaurant though the tunnel, but something’s wrong. There’s a bunch of paparazzi waiting on the street. I catch sight of my security detail, but it’s too late. They wouldn’t hesitate to snap the neck of each and every hack, but the chance of being photographed in the act is too high. “Relax, just keep walking,” I whisper in Blair’s ear. “And, for heaven’s sake, keep your legs together when you climb into the car.”
She rolls her eyes at me, as if I’m a simpleton. I am. Every inch of this girl is pure class.
We climb into the car and I keep her talking as security gently holds the paparazzi back. Not that it makes much difference with their ultra-zoom lenses.
In ten blocks, we’ve lost all possible tails. I rest my hand on Blair’s thigh, and in another ten blocks, I’ve forgotten all about the paparazzi. I slide my hand higher and higher until I can feel the heat coming from her core. I press the button to close the divider, giving us total privacy, and as my mouth meets hers, I cup her pussy, then slide my fingers inside her. She’s soaking wet, and she lets out a delicious, shivery moan at my touch. I only meant to tease her, but as I pump my fingers in and out, her pussy muscles clench tight and she starts to tremble. “Don’t stop,” she whispers, her voice like heaven in my ear.
I keep kissing her as she comes, moaning and crying into my mouth. It’s fucking hot, and I know her mouth isn’t going to be enough for me tonight. I need to claim her.
Back at the palace,we go straight to my quarters. I strip her dress off as soon as I shut the door, and she stands in front of me in the moonlight in just her shoes.
I wonder what to do with her. A vision of absolute perfection, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders, stopping just short of her soft, pink nipples. I strip my shirt off too, and then unfasten my pants. My cock comes springing out, like a beast released from a cage. She knows what I need. She’s only done it once before, but she falls to her knees in front of me and takes my cock into her mouth like a pro. Her pillowy lips wrap around my shaft, working up and down, until I feel the softness of the back of her throat, and it takes all my self-control not to thrust my hips. “You’re so good,” I mutter. “Like a dirty slut.” Her eyelashes flutter. She probably hates being called that, but right now, she’s my sweet, beautiful, virgin slut. Impulsively, I catch her hair in my hands, pull her off me. “Do you like it when I call you that?” I demand.
“Yes,” she says.
“Then tell me what you are.”
She hesitates. “I’m your slut.”
“Whose slut?”
“Your slut, Your Highness.”
“That’s better.” I push my cock into her mouth again, dangerously close to losing control. Her mouth is so good. I let out a long groan. “Go lie on the bed,” I say from between gritted teeth. “Face down.”
She does what I tell her, legs a little way apart, her wet pussy glistening. I lay on top of her, planning to come between her arse cheeks. The underside of my cock rubs again her sweet, virgin pussy, becoming slick with her juices, and it slides up and down her lovely crack. But as it passes by her tiny hole, she makes a small sound. I pause, a smile forming on my lips. “You like that.”
“Mm-hmmm,” she says into the pillow. I move back and forth, an inch in each direction, and her breath comes in little pants. I sense a little give, and I begin to move in a circle. She doesn’t pull away, and encouraged, I start to enter her. I nudge in, maybe a half inch, feeling her tight ring opening under the pressure. My cock throbs like crazy, desperate to be inside her.
“Stop!” she yells.
I hold still. “Too fast?”
“No. I mean, I’m not doing this.” She wriggles away from me and I come right out of her.
“Why? I know you liked it.”
“No, Max. My first time is going to be the usual way.”
I sit back on my haunches as she rolls over and glares at me.
“You’re telling me no?”
“I’m telling you no.”
“You can’t—” I begin to say. But she’s right. I groan. “You shouldn’t have teased me like that.”
“I know I shouldn’t. But it’s not easy. I want you, Max. But you have this weird thing about not taking my virginity.”
“Maybe it’s time to rethink that,” I growl. “Don’t move.”
I go to the bathroom, wash up, and then I climb back onto the bed. She’s got me so riled up that all I want to do is spread her thighs and plunge into her, but when I lay my hand on her hip and she turns her head and looks at me, something inside me softens. This is the whole reason why I didn’t take her virginity before. She’s saved it for a reason, kept that beautiful pussy untouched, even though she must have had countless offers. I can’t go plowing into her like it means nothing. Gently, I turn her onto her back. I kiss her soft mouth, trail my hand all over her body, caressing her breasts, her small, pert nipples, the sexy valley of her belly, that intimate little strip of dark hair. Then I slide two fingers into her, feel how tight she is. Unbroken. But so wet and ready for me. When I pump my fingers a little, she lets out a moan. Jesus Christ. I can’t wait a moment longer. I climb on top of her and look into her eyes. I want her to remember this as perfect. She deserves that. As I press the tip of my cock to her entrance, her eyes widen with desire and apprehension. I force myself to go slow, and her nails dig into my back. She grips my cock so tightly, and I see a bead of perspiration breaking on her upper lip. With a final push, I’m all the way in, and she clings to me and lets out a long breath.
“How does it feel?”
“It hurts. It’s good.” She laughs, and I start to make love to her. The smile drops from her lips and she gasps and pants. I go slow at first, but I can’t hold back for long, and I take her, just as I’ve wanted to since the moment I laid eyes on her. Thrusting into her, I claim her virginity and make her mine, forever. I lean back and gaze down at her, her lovely tits bouncing with every thrust, her eyes hazy, unfocused. “I want you to come like this,” I say.
“I want to—I don’t know,” she gasps. I put my thumb to her lips and she sucks it hungrily. Fuck. I was just trying to make it wet; I didn’t know it would be so sexy. I reach between us to the place where my cock is plunging into her virgin pussy and rub her clit in little circles. The effect is electric. Her pussy walls clench me, as if she’s trying to milk the cum from me, and she explodes, panting and crying. My orgasm hits a moment later, like an air-to-surface missile, and I ejaculate inside her, filling her with my hot seed.
I pull out slowly so as not to hurt her, then take her into my arms, a wave of tenderness washing through me. I hope it was as good for her as it was for me. What’s wrong with you, soldier?You’ve never been like this before, I think.
“What are you grinning at?”
“Nothing. I guess I was just feeling happy.”
“Why’s that?” Her voice is light with mock innocence.
“It’s not every day you get to take a girl’s virginity.”
She swats me, and I grin even more. I know she gets me, knows I wasn’t being an arsehole.
I never sleep with women, never have them spend the night in my bed. But somehow, when I drift off, she’s still snuggled in my arms, soft and silky.
