Royal S.O.B. (A Bad Boy Romance)
Read Royal S.O.B. (A Bad Boy Romance) Online
Authors: Kaitlyn Kevette
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Military, #New Adult & College, #Romantic Comedy, #Contemporary Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #Fantasy, #Historical, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense
Royal S.O.B.
Copyright 2016 by
Kaitlyn Kevette
SECOND CHANCES
PUBLISHING
All Rights Reserved
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Author's note
: This is a work of FICTION. The main characters are of
consenting age (18+) and related by marriage
only
, NOT blood.
"Maybe this was what
love was all about. Even if you knew that the guy was a born bastard, you gave
him a long rope. You loved him, you wanted him, you let go. Your weak heart
made you do it, countering your strong mind. And in all battles between the
two, it was the heart that won. Always."
~ Princess Adelaide
Isabella Royce
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When
history repeated this time, everything was predictable. It had captured the
public imagination as always, it was splashed everywhere, it became the toast
of the nation. With one notable exception.
The
commoner that became princess was not suitably impressed.
It
was a complete mystery to Kenrick. What ordinary mortal would not be thrilled
by such an unexpected turn of events? Who would not love to live like the
royalty? What kind of a person would want to stay back in the life of drudgery
that middle class was known for?
That
was it. This girl, Adelaide something, who turned into Princess Adelaide Royce,
was a mystery. It seemed, Kenrick was convinced, that she was no ordinary
mortal.
Could
she be an angel? Could she be of superior intelligence to loathe royalty so
much? Could she be so special that not even the most eligible bachelor in the
country did not appeal to her?
The
more he thought about Princess Adelaide, the more he was attracted to her. It
was more than the craving for the forbidden fruit, it was a necessity for his
fast beating heart. It was a no-exit situation for Kenrick; there was no option
for him but to get her, by fair means or foul.
But,
given their respective positions – she was also princess in her own right, now
holding almost an equal rank as him – any foul method was likely to kick off a
scandal. Which meant there was just one option open to him: He had to win her
over.
Fair
and square.
Kenrick
just sat there thinking of Princess Adelaide. That was what he was doing those
two full days. He would have breakfast late in the morning, not even look at
his usual newspapers. He would have lunch towards evening, and he would not
even watch television. He would have dinner, if at all, by midnight. His entire
life had gone topsy-turvy.
This
was not Kenrick. This was definitely not Prince Kenrick Royce. The royal scion
who played with the lives – and bodies – of countless women, now suddenly at
the mercy of just one. Doomsday was near; what was never thought possible was
now coming true.
It
struck him that he knew nothing about Princess Adelaide. As far as he was
concerned, his new stepsister was a total stranger to him. She, on the other
hand, probably knew all about him. He was this celebrity, among the most
well-known faces of the times, and easily one of the top trending names on the
Web.
That
was it – he had to know about her. He had to get a complete lowdown on this new
woman in his life; well, not yet
in
his life.
But soon will be
, he assured himself.
"I,
Prince Kenrick, have to know her," he kept repeating to himself, like a
man gone crazy.
He,
who had never even bothered to know the names of the women he'd bedded, now
suddenly wanted to know everything about this one woman he had yet to bed – and
had not much hopes of bedding.
And
that woman happened to be his stepsister.
But
how to know her? She was so like a wall, so impenetrable like a rock.
How was he to know her?
Was there a way,
a shortcut, to understand this enigma called Princess Adelaide?
One
Prince
Kenrick was bored to death.
He
was bored of his station, he was bored of his recent retirement from the Royal
Air Force, he was bored of all the women in his life. It was not the boredom of
not having anything to do; it was the bored of having everything in plenty.
If
only he did not have anything!
That
was a luxury of the poor. That was a luxury he could never be afforded ever in
his life, thanks to his position. As the next in succession for being the
monarch of his country, there was nothing that would not come easily for him.
If anything – and this was what he wanted badly – there was one impoverishment
in his life.
The
impoverishment of the unexpected.
Indeed,
for Prince Kenrick, who was all of twenty-seven, things came too easily. He was
born into greatness, with a nod to the great bard from Stratford-upon-Avon, and
he also had greatness thrust upon him from. And to add to it, his qualities and
qualifications were nothing short of great, either.
Drop
dead good looks to rival the most ancient of Greek gods. A sexy baritone to let
his crisp British accent ooze through. A body that had been chiseled to
perfection through rigorous workouts. And the last to be mentioned but first in
the pecking order – yes, a long pecker that was always never out of work.
And like in any line of work, the more it
was employed, the better it got.
Prince
Kenrick was bored.
And
yet, he knew deep inside, anyone would give their arm and leg to be in his
expensive designer shoes. Not just because of the blue blood in his veins; also
because of what he was and who he was to become.
Everything
about him was royalty personified. Kenrick Royce. The name meant royal twice
over, and the prince lived up to his moniker every bit. Beyond the obvious
royal lineage, he was well built, athletic, powerful, aggressive, ambitious,
versatile, restless, adventurous…
That hit the nail on
the head
,
thought Kenrick. He needed an adventure badly.
Too
much had been going on too smoothly for his taste, and now the boat needed to
rock a bit. After all, he was Kenrick Royce, prince among men, king among gods,
Casanova among women. The great Prince Kenrick did not deserve to be sitting
idle on his sexy buttocks, when he had other important assignments he could be
attending to.
He
was, at that moment, sitting on his handsome posterior on the lawn behind his
manor, unseen by the entourage of servants waiting to attend to him, the tall
blades of grass hiding his torso up to his strikingly chiseled pectorals. He
stretched himself, crushing the tall grass.
For ants and little
insects, these could be pine trees shooting into the sky
, he thought to
himself. And he would be a giant Brobdingnagian, as writer Swift would have put
it.
"Indeed,
I am a giant who spreads bliss among women," he said under his breath.
"I'm
an orgasm donor!" he said, loudly this time.
He
liked the ring of it.
I must put that as
a sticker on my limousine
, he thought.
But
no, they would never let him… all thanks to the so-called royal protocol. It
stifled his free spirit, all that ceremony and all that propriety. The royals
were meant to be superior to the commoners, and yet this privileged lot could
not taste the freedom that even the less privileged enjoyed. Ridiculous!
Not
that he resented it, not really. His royalty was his passport to practically
any corner in the world, and – dare he say it – to any vagina in the world.
And, truth to say, he had been a vagina hunter for all of his adult life.
And adolescent life, for that matter.
He
even kept a pussy counter somewhere inside his head. The ticker kept ticking,
and it ticked rather fast.
But,
for a moment, he was sick of even that. Yes, it was great that he got it just
for the asking. But what fun was it when it lacked a certain challenge?
Especially the love of a woman – when she was won rather than grabbed, the
pleasure was double. And when she was earned and not won, that enjoyment was
something else.
Prince
Kenrick, king of all that he purveyed – including the fairer sex that happened
to be on the property – yearned for some unusual excitement.
He craved for adventure.
Enough of this
pansy playfulness and pussy pursuit. Here was he, a man with more than his
share of testosterone, and he now needed the challenge of the unique.
This
was nothing new. As he thought back on his life he realized that, like history,
such a craving repeated itself throughout. Or rather, like history again, it
was cyclical. He would very easily slip into a phase of reckless womanizing
until he was fed up, only to be alternated by a phase of restlessness and
thirst for something different. And often, ironically, it was a woman who facilitated
that as well.
It
was a paradox. Women were the common thread for both the phases. In one, it was
too many women inducing a sense of monotonous abundance; while in another, it
was most likely one woman who inspired a feeling of unattainability.
From
plenty to scarcity – that was the incredible transition.
Kenrick
was familiar with this dichotomy. And he kind of knew the end result. What he
was enthused about was how it would pan out each time. He was aware of the
outcome; the suspense of it unfolding in ways he never expected was what caused
a stir in his heart.
"Your
Royal Highness! Your Royal Highness!"
Kenrick's
eyes opened. He had dozed off in the warmth of the afternoon sun.
"Your
Royal Highness!" The voice came nearer.
It
was George, his butler. Royce sat up amidst the tall blades of grass, rubbing
his eyes. George seemed to be dragging something… It was the house telephone.
"His
Royal Highness, there's a call for you. It seems long distance."
"Where's
my mobile, George you old bastard?"
"I…
I've no idea, Sir."
Kenrick
remembered: He had left it in his attaché after his trip to the manor, and it
was in his wardrobe. Even if it rang, no one would have heard it.
"Okay,
give it," he demanded as he snatched the receiver from George.
"Hello?"
