Royal S.O.B. (A Bad Boy Romance) (7 page)

"Mrs.
Bradford!" Addie called out to her governess.

"Yes,
my dear."

She
was by her in an instant. Despite her age, the old woman was very agile.

"I
have a question. What if a friend wants to come and visit me?"

"Well,
then your friend can come and visit you."

"As
simple as that? No protocol, no problems?"

"None
whatsoever. This is a palace, my child, not a royal prison," said Mrs.
Bradford with a reassuring pat.

"Ah,
thanks for clarifying. I was beginning to get ideas," chuckled Addie.

"Where's
your friend? We can send transport to bring him here."

"Great.
But it's a she, not a he."

"Okay.
Where's she?"

"She's
already here. At the palace gates."

"Oh.
And what's her name?"

"Cate,
ma'am."

"All
right, please inform her that a limo will pick her up in five minutes."

*****

"Catieeeeee!"

Addie
sprang up from her chair and spread out her arms.

Cate
had slowed down her walk just outside the drawing room door.

"Addieeeeeee!"

She
picked up speed again and ran inside and crashed into her.

The
two of them collided and fell into the large, sprawling sofa behind the
princess. Thank God it was there, placed strategically to take that fall.

Mrs.
Bradford watched this meeting of friends with interest and a wide grin.

"God,
I've been dying to see you!" said Addie through giggles and tears.

Yes,
her eyes welled up – she'd been missing her best friend, especially in these
alien environs.

"Me
too, Addie," replied Cate.

"You
seemed so far away, suddenly so out of reach!"

"No
way," retorted Addie.

"Now
you can meet me whenever you want. I'll give you the number of Mrs. Bradford
here – that's my governess, if you please."

Suddenly
she remembered that she had not introduced them.

"Ma'am,
meet my mate – my soulmate – Cate; and Cate, this is Mrs. Bradford, my
governess and confidant here in the fortress."

Both
of them laughed.

"Mrs.
Bradford has formed a pact with me," she told Cate, her tone lower.

"Between
us, there is to be none of this royalty nonsense. No Royal Highness or Lowness
– I'm just Addie, nothing more, nothing less."

Cate
just stood there with her jaw touching the ground.

"Are
you here to live the life of a princess, or are you here to challenge the
royals?"

"A
bit of both, my girl," and they started a cushion fight right there.

Mrs.
Bradford had to intervene. Those were some priceless heirloom pillows, after
all.

"Would
you girls care for some coffee and something to eat?"

That
sounded both exciting and delicious. Cate craved to savor something royal right
then.
 

"Okay,
Mrs. Bradford," agreed Addie.

"Let's
show Cate what we've got."

*****

"No,
you aren't going anywhere, Catie."

Addie
was being rather stern with her best friend.

"She
can stay here tonight, can't she, Mrs. Bradford?"

"Ah,
um, I'll need to run that by the CSO…" the old woman replied, unsure.

"And
what monster would that be?" asked Addie, somewhat defiantly.

"The
Chief Security Officer. To get Cate in was itself a tremendous challenge."

"Oh?"

That
was news to Addie, and not how Mrs. Bradford had made it seem.

"You
never told me."

"I
didn't want to bother you. So I managed it myself."

"So
you think having Cate over for the night would be an issue?"

"I
think so."

That
was the governess's way of saying
Don't
even consider it.

"If
I were you, I'd keep her till sundown and let her go today. We can always bring
her back another day – tomorrow if you wish."

Addie's
shoulders drooped. Back in her own home, she was her own boss. And Cate would
stay over as late as she wanted. It was not her own life anymore.

"Okay,
all right," sighed Addie, resigning to the situation.

"At
least stay till evening. Then 'we' will arrange for your transport – till your
home."

She
said that last line in true royal style, and they both laughed. Better to savor
the moments at hand rather than worry about the moments you could not have.

With
Cate by her side, Addie felt a lot better. This was like old times, almost. Of
course, they never had such sprawling living rooms and imposing bedrooms, but
still, they had a lot of fun.

Her
old neighborhood had been quiet, with only the cackle of kids playing on the
streets in the evening. It was green, the wind was fresh, and the place overall
was just heaven. They would often take a walk in the park nearby, and there was
always loads of 'us' time. And on returning home, Addie's mum would have baked
beans ready – steaming and yum. That was life!

Then
it was just television, gossip, and lying together on the cramped bed before
sleep. Whoever said you need more space to have more fun?

Next
morning, usually a Sunday morning, would be the laziest. They would wake up
only after eleven, by which time Addie's mum would have been up and been to
church and back. Again, she would cook something exotic for brunch – sometimes
Chinese or pasta – and they would gorge on it. Afternoons would be spent
playing Pictionary (both of them were addicted to it), with Mum playing on both
her side as well as Cate's. Both would cheat incessantly, both would fight
vigorously. Neither would win, of course, and almost always the game would end
in a quarrel.

But
once it was over, there would be no trace of the bitter fight. They would
change, go for a walk in the park, come back, have tea, and it would be time
for Cate to go home.

Parting
was always sad–

"Your
Royal Highness."

Mrs.
Bradford's feeble voice brought her back to the present. And that formal tone
troubled Addie. It could only mean one thing – there was someone from the royal
family around.

"Yes,
what is it?"

She'd
dropped the 'Mrs. Bradford' in the fitness of things.

"You
have visitors, Your Royal Highness."

The
governess corrected herself.

"You
have visitors, Miss."

"Who
are they?" questioned Addie, her mind in trepidation.

"Do
you have a moment, Miss?"

A
complete change had come over Kenrick.

"There
are a few things I need to ask you."

"You
seem to be a dumb person, Mister," the woman replied, still peering at him
through the cow's udders.

Her
eyes were spitting fire.

"First
of all, I'm a married woman, so please address me as 'missus'..."

The
prince just stood there and smiled.

"And
second, I already told you I'm busy. I have not a moment to spare. You could be
the king's son himself for all I care, but not now. If you come back after
eleven, I might have some time for you."

With
that her sexy face disappeared behind the cow's lush, full, pink udders. That
looked like a promising portend for Kenrick, chuckling to himself at her
inadvertent reference to 'the king's son'.

"Okay,
Missus," he agreed, not turning back.

"I
guess I'll drop by after eleven."

She
didn't answer. And he did not go away. This was not the usual Kenrick, waiting
around for a bird. But then, she was not the usual woman either.

He
hung around on the property, nibbling blades of grass and throwing pebbles on
the water surface in a small lake nearby. The cool countryside, pretty as it
was, bored Kenrick. And the morning felt heavy, refusing to budge an inch.

There
was a tingling in his loins. He had a vague anticipation of something
adventurous happening. But how was he to kill the next three hours doing
nothing but waiting for this milking damsel?

He
had no clue.

*****

Sometime
after eleven, he heard some rumbling at the back of the house. Maybe she was
coming out; he stiffened, set his hair, tucked his shirttails inside his
trousers, and was ready.

Then
he realized: He never, ever did things like these for anyone. What, had he
already installed this woman on a pedestal? Or was it the sexual famine he had
been experiencing for the last two days – ever since he set out on this
wretched study tour?
Oh hell, it was not
so wretched after all
, he told himself; there was plenty of potential here.

It
was her. She emerged with a wicker basket holding dry cow dung cakes in it, and
she was a sight to behold. Her clothes were stained, there was cow dung on her
face, in her hair, on her hands and legs. But none of that took anything away
from her curves or from her fair skin or from the oozing oomph in her
personality. She was dirty, she was dazzling.

The
fire in her eyes had not subsided. She looked at him with those red-hot pupils
– they were blue and transparent, but he imagined a reddish tinge in them. She
went inside, calm as a cucumber, with her wicker basket resting on that slender
waist.

"Hello,"
called Kenrick. She gave him the royal ignore.

A
minute later she came out, now with another sack in her hand. It was clear that
she had plenty of chores to do.

"May
I now ask you a few questions?"

He
was politeness personified.

"You
can see that I'm up to my neck with work, boy. But I gave you my word. So make
it quick. I'll place this in the granary first."

With
every word she spoke, and every move she made, Kenrick was going crazy. He knew
that under that garb of dirt, under that mess, was a treasure to be had. A
treasure like he had never seen before. And he had to have it, right now.

She
went inside another door, which was perhaps the granary. Kenrick had no idea.
In fact, he was not in his senses anymore. The woman had mesmerized him, and he
had to take her
right
there,
right
then.

He
rushed after her into the door. It was, indeed, the granary. She was standing with
her back to him, emptying the sack onto a heap of wheat.

Kenrick
stopped for a moment, watching her figure silhouetted by the light from a far
window. Then he jumped on her from behind and embraced her tight, his strong
hands squashing her ample breasts, while his huge tool was straining to find a
slot between her shapely buttocks, through her coarse fabric.

She
was caught unaware. The sack fell from her hands on the wheat heap. Kenrick
expected her to scream, so he cupped her mouth with his free hand, forcing his
fingers across her luscious lips.

She
did not scream. She did not try to wriggle out of his grip. She did not move.
She was just having a hard time breathing, that was about the only thing she
conveyed.

She
grabbed his hand and tore it away from her mouth. Quietly, without a fuss,
without speaking a word. Then she held his other hand from her bosom and pushed
it away. She turned around and confronted him.

"Mister,"
she told him, her voice even.

"I
knew that this was the question you wanted to ask me."

Kenrick
was stunned. He had seen countless girls, and taken countless girls. But this
was the first time ever it had turned into an anticlimax. This simple rural
girl, with her courage hardened by everyday drudgery, had beaten him at his own
game. He had expected gratitude, being royal blood, but in turn he was bowled
over.

"All
you had to do was be frank," she said, and turned away.

Kenrick
stood there like a statue, wondering what to do. He looked at her as she was
going out of the room. She stopped and asked:

"Can
you wait till I wash up?"

That
only added to her mystique.
He could wait
till eternity for her.
Then again, he could not wait another minute for
her. This was Prince Kenrick, the colossal cock machine.

He
waited. And waited. And waited.