Prince With Benefits: A Billionaire Royal Romance (15 page)

We're more than just two crazy people who've struck an unthinkable deal when he's balls deep inside me. More than just fiances playing a game.

We're lovers. Losing our hearts and minds in the ecstasy igniting our bodies.

I'm helpless, scared, and more confused than I've ever been in my life. But I'm also buried in pleasure when Silas rears up, slams his hips into mine, and swells deep inside me.

He's coming through his condom. I'm coming apart.

For the next five minutes, my brain loses the ability to dwell on any higher thoughts than
yes, yes, fuck me! Fuck me more! Silas, fill me.

His royal seed nearly does. He explodes in the condom, growling louder than ever before. His fingers jerk my hair so hard it nearly hurts, but it tips my head back to the moon, and I scream.

My pussy won't ever be the same after tonight, if he's serious. I know he is.

We're just getting started. He's going to keep fucking me, coming in me, spilling everything he's got until he's empty, and I'm so spent I'll be lucky to walk tomorrow.

Tomorrow.
That's a scary thought after the mindless, screaming, skin soaking sex we're having tonight.

I don't know what we'll be when we wake up. I'm not sure if we'll be royals with benefits, or totally ruined.

I'll be lucky to keep my own sanity after tonight.

“Damn it, love, you're going to kill me before we're through,” he growls, pulling out of me and tossing the condom aside.

We kiss. That's when I put my hands around his neck, scratching my nails against his skin, and deepen our tongues moving against one another. They're searching, tangled, and still so hungry.

Nothing else matters tonight except the flesh. I'm going to force myself to live in the sex, the pleasure, even if it means our dream is about to become a royal nightmare.

* * *

W
e don't get
much sleep. Sometime near dawn, he wakes, nudging me out of our rum and sex fueled frolic.

My head hurts. My pussy aches so good, after taking him two more times, the last time bent over in the sand while he slammed into me from behind.

Silas passes me a water bottle. I drink it down like it's ambrosia, straight from heaven, groaning angrily when he tries to get me to walk.

“Come on, love. You'll catch cold out here in the morning. Can't risk you getting pneumonia – how're we going to fuck then?”

Jerk. It gets a smile, though.

I watch him get dressed, summoning just enough energy to gather up my own clothes and slip into them. When I delay moving too long, Prince Silas the soldier emerges. He picks me up, takes me in his arms, and carries me up the steps to his high tech car.

Before I know it, I'm slumped in the leather passenger seat, watching as he starts the engine and puts it on auto-pilot. The car drives us back to civilization and the summer palace.

His guards nod politely on our way inside.

If any of them think our relationship is a sham, they don't show any signs. Or maybe they're just smart enough never to question their boss.

Soon, we're upstairs, skipping my room entirely and heading for his. He's got another one of those big, warm, and incredibly overbearing canopy beds like something shipped direct from 1820.

It doesn't matter. I crash on it like it's a silk cloud, safe in his arms, and sleep like the dead.

Silas' heartbeat guides me to my dreams.

If this is what being a Princess with benefits is like, count me in. It's a comforting thought, one that hangs with me through the sleepy morning, until I wake up.

Silas sits on the bed's edge, a phone in his hand, muttering angrily to someone on the line.

“Fuck.
Fuck!
It's a goddamned disaster, is what it is. Okay, okay, just give me a couple hours. Yes, we'll take the damned helicopter. We'll be back in the capital as soon as we can. You tell them to do every fucking thing they can to save her!”

Forget dreams. I just woke up into a royal nightmare.

“
W
hat
? What is it?” Erin sits up, the silk sheet wrapped around her, threatening to tease my cock awake after it's fucked itself into a coma for several hours.

Any other time, I'd be ripping that thing off, throwing her on her back, and having my way.

But after the asshole from the palace gets off the phone, sex is the last thing on my mind. First time that's ever happened, and I hate it. Almost as much as I hate having to tell her the news.

“Her Majesty's in the royal hospital. They think it's a stroke,” I say, feeling another blow to my guts when I repeat what I heard. “Those fucking muck raking, gutter swiping plebes...they must've pushed her over the edge. She's eighty years old, for Christ's sake – too old for the media's shit.”

“Don't worry about the why,” Erin says, laying her hands on my shoulders, rubbing them gently. “We just need to get back there, like you say. We'll have time to sort out everything else later.”

“We need to get our shit together.
Now.
” I'm growling every other word, and I can't stop myself.

I yank her up from the bed so hard she drops the sheet. “Let's shower and get dressed.”

“Shower? Together?”

No shit.
Normally, it'd be the perfect opportunity to bend her over in the wet, balmy bath, hands against the wall, and fuck her pussy until I can't think straight.

Today, it's just a time saver. We step into the huge marble shower stall together, and I slam the glass door shut.

Just seeing her naked has a calming effect. Thank fuck.

I need it right now, anything that prevents me from thinking about the thousand and one hells waiting if grandmom doesn't pull through.

I've got my Princess, but it doesn't mean the island will accept me as king. The jackals in the media will have a field day. The Republic First assholes will raise holy hell, circulate a million petitions calling for my crown, and they'll probably get it after the nastiest referendum campaign this country's ever seen.

Hell, I'll have to address the bigger, uglier jackals in parliament. One wrong move there, and the populists will pounce for political points, ending our fifteen hundred year old crown forever.

“Silas...relax.” She's lathered up, smiling softly, running her hands up and down my chest.

I've never let a woman touch me like this before. Erin looks like an angel, and I can't refuse, even though she's seeing more cracks in my armor than any girl has business seeing.

I let her little hands glide down my body. She lathers me up, giving me a questioning, hungry look when her palms graze my thighs, next to the hard-on raging between my legs.

“Later, love,” I tell her, cupping her ass with my hands. “Turn around.”

She listens. I squeeze out a dab of thick, fragrant shampoo and lather it through her hair.

She's perfect. She's real. She's magnificent – even when I'm keeping myself from fucking her like I want to.

Erin backs into me, letting the water roll over us from the spigot above while I rinse her hair. It's strangely soothing, like some zen meditation I've been waiting half my life to discover.

I hate it like hell when I have to shut the water off. We step out together, ignoring the rock hard cock I've still got swinging near my belly button, and start toweling off.

Whatever happens, I
will
take care of myself later, and Erin, too. These royal distractions, this is the part of being a Prince I really fucking hate.

When we're back in my private suite to dress, the balcony door is cracked, letting in the fresh breeze. That's when we hear the thunder coming from one more floor above us. Erin turns around, her eyes wide, fixing the summer dress she's wearing.

“Jesus. You weren't kidding about the helicopter, were you?”

“Do I ever kid about anything?”

She sticks her tongue out. Something that makes me want to smile. Too bad the shitshow waiting for us across the country doesn't let me.

Victor joins us near the exit upstairs. We all climb aboard the huge converted military chopper. It's all mine, complete with the double-headed black eagle on the side.

It's too loud to speak until the doors are sealed shut. Even when they are, I don't say anything, lost in all the dark possibilities waiting at the palace.

We're leaving paradise. We're only in the air for a few tense minutes when I feel her hand on mine. Grabbing her fingers, I squeeze them tight, telling myself this isn't going to be the end.

I don't give a damn how fucked up things get with the kingdom. Nothing's changing my mind about my woman.

* * *

S
oon as we
're on the palace's landing pad, Vic and I slip off. I kiss Erin goodbye, and straighten my tie, ready to take on everything that's keeping me from her.

A long walk down the hall and several flights of stairs later, we're in the throne room. It's weird as hell to see it empty. Unoccupied.

That chair has never looked so imposing because I might be in it sooner than I ever expected. Worse, it could up a museum piece, never to house a royal ass in it again.

“How is she?” I ask sharply, seeing Patricia waiting for us by the window.

The Queen's valet is there, along with her personal emissary to parliament, a big man named George. There's also Serena – the last bitch in the world I want to see right now. She flashes me a huge, man eating smile. I don't even acknowledge her, focusing on Patricia instead.

“Stable, Your Highness. The symptoms began this morning. She woke in a state of confusion, and had great difficulty sitting up. We had her rushed to the hospital immediately. The medical team says she's in good spirits, resting, while they wait for a few more scans.”

“My God. What if there's brain damage?” One sentence from George gets everybody's nerves going. “I'm sorry, that was rude. I'm worried about the inquiries from parliament, Your Highness, nothing more. They won't like this uncertainty, particularly after the recent upsets in this very palace.”

“Fuck the politicians!” I snarl, pacing in front of the window.

They know to give me my space. All of them except Serena, who creeps up next to me, mustering her most soothing voice.

“My Prince, I'd advise against that kind of tone. We need our PR working to unify the country. The last thing we ought to risk is more division.”

“Didn't ask for your advice,” I snap, pushing past her. “The country's already divided down to its roots. It's going to take weeding to bring it together again, and everybody in this room knows it.”

Vic clears his throat. “Sire, if you'd like us to put a cap on this, and head for the hospital, I'd be more than willing to summon a car.” He speaks slowly, trying to diffuse the walking bomb I've become.

“No, we have to talk this out,” I mutter, hating what I have to admit next. “Serena's right, damn it. I'll be there immediately if grandmom's condition changes, for better or worse. It's our job to make sure the whole kingdom doesn't go to hell in the meantime. I want her on black out – anything that isn't absolutely necessary doesn't get through. No politics, no drama, no jackals buzzing around her room. We can't risk upsetting her while she's being treated.”

Patricia gives me a sour look. She's never liked me very much. Her first and last duty is to the Queen, sure, but her distaste is personal, too. The prim, proper woman is probably about to lay a load because there's a risk I'm about to become King far sooner than anyone expected.

Including me.

Christ, King.
My gaze drifts to the throne.

I can't imagine myself up there, wearing my grandfather's crown, wrapped up in robes made from mountain lions, wild bears, and gold. I see myself surrounded by guards and valets, Victor in Patricia's place, and – of course – Erin at my side.

Then the others vanish. I'm imagining myself on the throne in
just
my robe. Erin is on her knees, her sweet, smooth skin reflecting the fire's glow. Naked for me, ready to sit on my raging cock and take the sovereign's seed, pump my dick with her luscious cunt until we're dripping all over thousand year old gold.

Fuck.
Patricia's talking, but I've been too busy thinking about filthy, ridiculous things to listen.

“We'll take it day by day with her condition. That's all I'm asking, Prince. We needn't consider anything rash, much less any assumptions of royal power, unless it's clearly necessary.”

“Patricia, you know full well what palace protocol and the kingdom's laws say about this,” Victor cuts in. “A country needs a head in the crown. If Her Majesty is incapacitated – briefly, I pray – then all the duties fall on the heir in the interim. His Highness is effectively King, the kingdom's chief representative, and its sole functioning sovereign, until such time as Her Majesty is ready and able to resume her full duties.”

They look like they're about to kill each other. Just what we need – another standoff.

“Vic, come on. I'm ready to do anything I need to while she's down and out. But I'm damned sure
not
King unless I'm sitting in that chair. I don't need the extra title to sort this out,” I say, nodding to the throne. “George, you tell the assholes in the chamber exactly what I've said. The crown isn't passing to anyone unless my grandmother isn't breathing. God forbid.”

“Certainly, Your Highness. They won't like it – politicians thrive on what's clear cut, as you know. However, they'll live with it.”

Yeah, they will,
I think to myself.
Because if they don't, I'll find some way to have the son of bitches dissolved and call early elections. Even the Republic First rabble rousers would love to see that happen.

“A sensible choice, Your Highness.” Vic nods politely, but I can't tell if he's being honest, or just blowing more smoke up my ass.

Patricia doesn't say anything. She turns, staring sadly at the empty throne.

That fucking chair is going to decide too many people's futures. I'm tired of seeing it. I want to get out of here.

“Update me on Her Majesty's condition, the second there's any change,” I tell grandmom's valet.

“Of course, my Prince.”

I wave at Victor to follow me, and we're gone, heading into the hallway. We're only a few steps outside the throne room when I hear Serena's heels clicking behind us.

Goddamn. I knew she wouldn't stay muzzled forever.

“Your Highness! Please.” I hear her calling, barely slowing down to let her catch up. “We need to schedule a meeting to address the PR problem. I'd like to talk with you and that girl in private. Maybe go over some talking points we can use with the kingdom, in case the situation deteriorates.”

“That girl?” I stop and look at her. “Is that what you're going to call my fiancee, potentially your future Queen?”

The color drains from her face. Time seems to stop, turning the whole atmosphere electric like a storm around us. Even Vic looks nervous.

“Silas –“

“Your Highness, Miss Hastings,” Vic corrects, glaring at her.

“I'm sorry, of course. It's the stress today, that's all,” she lies. I'm about to lose what little patience for her I've got left. “I want to do right by the kingdom. You have to know, I feel
awful
about what happened during the press conference. I should've requested more security when I set it up. Let me make it up to you...to everyone. I'll prep three different speeches. One for every scenario we might have to deal with. You choose whichever you like best.”

“How about the one where I throw your ass out and tell you to find a new job?” I growl.

She blinks, surprised. Unfortunately, after fucking me, she's too fearless for her own good.

“That seems...rather uncalled for,” she says, choosing her words carefully. “I'm just doing my job, Your Highness. Forgive me if I've offended you or your fiancee.”

I study her face when she says the last word. Damn if it doesn't look like she's chewing something rotten.

“It's been a rough day for everyone. I'm more than happy to coach Erin with anything I need to. She's the one you've chosen to marry, after all.” Surrender, that's what's coming out of her now.

I've seen that hurt, puppy dog look on women I've fucked a hundred times. This has to be the first where I'm feeling absolutely no remorse.

Victor's looking at me. Waiting. He's got one hand on his phone, ready to call security if I decide to kick her to the curb this very second.

Lucky for her, she's too damned good at what she does. I can't risk an untested specialist working the kingdom's media if grandmom's health goes to complete shit.

“I don't have time for this. Go write.” I'm flying down the hall without a second glance behind my shoulder.

Vic trots after me, struggling to keep up. I don't slow down for a damned second.