RICHARD (A BAD BOY ROMANCE) (50 page)

ROYAL PRICK

A BRITISH ROYAL STEPBROTHER
ROMANCE

–Nikki Wild

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

---

PROLOGUE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

EPILOGUE

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Prologue

“Tristan… oh, my God. If we’re
caught…”

Gwendolyn Pierce was staring up at
me with her wide, soulful eyes and her pretty pink lips all agape, her heart
beating so hard if I listened closely, I swore I could hear it. I was close
enough to feel it, too, pounding through the thin fabric of her camisole,
making her pert nipples quiver against my chest.

I’d caught her in her nightclothes,
a modest ensemble of flannel pajama pants and a lacy top with no bra
underneath. The latter clung to her small frame, the full, tender globes of her
breasts outlined in delicious shadow.

I slid my fingers up along her ribs,
returning her gaze, the bare skin of my chest grazing her trembling arms.
“Nobody needs to know,
Gwennie
. It’s just you and
me.”

Gwen took in a sharp breath, and for
a moment, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t call me that,” she whispered, but trailed
off when I began inching her
cami
up her stomach,
revealing more of her pale skin than was appropriate, given who we were to one
another.

Gwendolyn was my stepsister. And I
was her stepbrother, and heir to a duchy. We were both hot and barely past
eighteen and pumped
full
of hormones.
We were dangerous. A scandal waiting to happen.

And I wanted it to happen. I was
sure
Gwennie
did, too. No matter how hard she’d dug
her heels in about adapting to British culture—something her mother had
insisted upon, accent and all—my stepsister couldn’t shake that rebellious
nature of hers. She wasn’t meant for the aristocracy. Then again, neither was
I.

“We can’t,” she breathed. God, I
could taste her on my lips. She tasted like desire, betraying her words, which
came out almost like a squeak. It made my cock hard to no end. She was such a
little mouse, but I got the feeling she would turn into a wildcat in bed, once
somebody popped that sweet cherry of hers.

Somebody who would, hopefully, be
me.

“We can,” I insisted. “See?” And I
ever-so-lightly brushed the pad of my thumb over one of her nipples.

“God!” she hissed a little too
loudly, and I leaned down to cover her mouth with my own, to stifle the
seductive sounds dripping from her mouth. Gwendolyn turned her face away at the
last second, panting hard as I teased the nub of puffy, sensitive flesh beneath
the fabric of her shirt.

“Let me do this for you,” I
whispered in her ear. Her back arched, forcing her hips against my hard-on. “I
want you so badly,
Gwennie
. And I know you want me.”
I took one of her hands and placed it on my cock; in response, it lurched
toward her, desperate for more contact, so full of want and need that it
physically hurt. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

“Tristan,” Gwendolyn said, her
doe-like eyes somehow growing even wider. “You’re…
pierced?
Down there?” She touched the surgical steel embedded in
the head of my cock.

“Do you want to see it?” I asked
her, shivering as she stroked it. Oh, God, I wanted her to keep going, and to
never stop.

“I…” She looked up at me through her
lashes, her gaze so curious, so full of wonder. “Um…”

“Come on,
Gwennie
.
Live a little.”

“I can’t,” she said, pushing me away
by my chest. My dick slipped from her hand and I groaned. “Not like this,
Tristan. Not… here. When you’re only doing it to make your father…
our
father… mad.”

I leaned against the pantry shelves
and rubbed my face, trying to scrub away the frustration boiling in my nuts.
When I looked at Gwen again, there was such sadness on her face. I thought
that, even in the darkness, I could see the glint of tears in her eyes.

I realized then that, for her, this
was so much more than youthful desires. I realized that she might even have
feelings for me—genuine feelings, ones that transcended a mere compulsion to be
naughty. For me, this was just a passing interest, one of many I’d had since I
realized girls didn’t actually have cooties—well, most of them, anyway.

I wanted to fuck Gwen and get her
out of my system. She wanted to fuck me, too, but then she wanted to live
happily ever after. I was
not
the man
to do that with. She needed to lower her expectations.

And why not? Everyone else had.

“I see,” I sighed, shaking my head.
“Bloody hell,
Gwennie
. I thought you were an adult
now. That you’d grown up a bit. But you’re still clinging to that Mickey Mouse,
lovey-dovey horseshit, aren’t you?”

Gwendolyn blushed. “I just want it
to… mean something. Is that so wrong?”

I rolled my eyes. “This isn’t a
Disney movie,
Gwennie
. You’re not a princess,
Gwennie
, regardless of who your mother married. And I’m not
your Prince Charming, your knight in shining armor, or whatever the hell else
you expect me to be. But I
am
hot,
and I
am
good in bed, and I
am
willing to teach you a few things you
can use to snag a husband later on in life. It’s a good deal, love. You should
take it.”

I waited, my cock thrumming to the
beat of my heart as Gwendolyn stared at me. Only this time, there wasn’t a war
waging behind those pretty eyes. She wasn’t struggling between propriety and
desire. This time, she was hurt. Pissed. Shocked that I’d ever speak to her
that way.

Good. Somebody had to bring her head
down out of the clouds.

“You’re an asshole, Tristan,” she
whispered. “A real prick.”

“
Royal
prick,” I corrected her. Then I shrugged. “Anyway, the offer stands. You know
where to find me.”

I opened the pantry door and stepped
out, leaving Gwen huffing and puffing behind me. This was exactly why I didn’t
go for the innocent types. They always wanted something they couldn’t have,
something I couldn’t give. They watched too much TV and read too many books.
Real life wasn’t
The Princess Diaries.
Real life was more like
The Bachelor,
where you ended up with someone based on prior arrangements and how good they
were in the sack—after you’d test-driven all your options, of course.

This was the reality check Gwendolyn
needed, and I was confident she’d come after me. After all, I was leaving for
Afghanistan tomorrow, a newly enlisted member of Her Majesty’s Royal Army. She
wouldn’t let me go off to war without something to remember her by—she was, as
I’d said before, a
romantic.

I chuckled and shook my head.
Virgins…