Playing Dirty (A Bad Boy Sports Romance) (28 page)

Chapter 11

Andrew

The sound of a vacuum cleaner going in my room first thing in the morning was usually enough for me to start the day in a bad mood, but this morning it was music to my ears. The girl of my dreams was playing a little joke on me, and I was more than ready to play one back on her—one which I was sure would be better received this time round. As I went to throw back the covers and reveal myself in all my glory, I looked across the room at Keira with a smug smile on my face.

And thankfully I had the presence of mind to pull the covers back before I’d gone too far.

“Good morning, your Highness,” said the girl who was attractive in her own way but was absolutely and in no way Keira. “Sorry if I woke you, but the Queen insisted.”

“Er…of course,” I said. If my mother was going to passive aggressively use the staff to punish me every time I did something to irritate her, then I’d probably never get another decent night’s sleep. More importantly, where was Keira? A sinking feeling claimed my stomach; it was hard not to link the fact that my mother was obviously pissed at me to Keira’s absence.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” I said, not wanting to ask where Keira was for fear of causing trouble, and clinging to the possibility that it might just be her day off.

“Not new to the house, your Highness,” the girl replied. “But Rogers asked me to take over as your personal maid.”

“Permanently?”

“As far as I know, your Highness. Is that all right? I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, that’s fine, that’s fine. I should probably start getting up at a more reasonable time, anyway,” I said.

I would’ve loved to ask why she’d needed to take over and where Keira was, but Rogers would hardly have shared that information, and besides, I didn’t want to raise any suspicions.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I said, and the girl simply nodded and continued cleaning the floor.

As I showered, I rushed through the endless possibilities in my mind. It could hardly be a coincidence that this sudden staff reorganization had happened the day after Keira and I had hooked up in the day-staff changing room. Was it possible that someone had seen us? Yes, of course it was possible. We’d locked the door but presumably keys existed, there were windows, and for all I knew there were security cameras. I couldn’t speak for Keira, but I’d been so caught up in the moment with her that I wouldn’t have noticed if the house’s entire staff had come in and cheered us on. Christ, it’d been so hot. There was nothing better than a woman who could give just as good as she got, and those moments last night had proved Keira was like that in more ways than one. The fire in her eyes, the way she’d held her own…my cock was practically begging me to fuck her again and again.

So the big question now was: what had happened to her? Had she been fired? If so, I would never forgive myself. Perhaps she’d just been reassigned?

If she
had
been fired, would she think I was behind it? Selfish though it was, that thought gave me pause. The idea of her being fired was bad, but the idea that she might think I’d ordered her to be fired now that I’d had my fun with her was unbearable.

One way or another, I had to find her.

The great thing about being a prince was that people very seldom questioned what you were doing anywhere, which meant that I could go and check on the staff schedule with relative impunity. I got a few startled looks from various maids, footmen and so on, but I answered them all with a smile as I made my way to the complex notice board that told the house staff where they were working and what they were doing on any given day. And there she was on the list!
Keira Valencia.

Relief overwhelmed me in finding that she hadn’t been fired, which didn’t mean that I was out of the woods yet; she might still think that I’d asked for her to be reassigned. I ran a finger along the line that showed where Keira was due to be. Her duties as my personal maid had been scored out with a ruler-straight line and scribbled in were her new duties as…

I frowned in bemused surprise—this was quite the reassignment.

“Can I help you, your Highness?”

I turned to find Rogers standing behind me. The man was smiling, but not in a way that suggested happiness, or indeed anything positive at all. While it was true that a prince could move with impunity in his own house without being questioned or frowned upon, that always came with a caveat: downstairs, the butler was King. While he hadn’t been born to rank or title, Rogers ruled his domain with as much authority as any monarch, and somehow, though I wasn’t sure how, that authority comfortably extended over any members of the family who might stray down here.

“I was just…” I couldn’t help thinking that I ought to be able to say ‘none of your business’ and leave it at that, but I just couldn’t. “Looking for something,” I finished lamely.

“Are you not satisfied with Margo?”

The new maid’s name was apparently Margo.

“Oh, no. I mean, yes. She’s very good.” In my desire to throw Rogers off the scent, I became slightly too effusive. “Absolutely fabulous girl. She has completely satisfied me.”

Rogers stiffened slightly. “She can be replaced too, your Highness,” he said in a tone that managed to be at once respectful and yet also reprimanding.

From that, it was becoming increasingly clear that my worst fears about why Keira had been replaced were accurate and, since Rogers clearly knew the reason, I pressed further than discretion ought to have permitted. “She’s very capable, Rogers, but I do wonder why Keira was replaced.”

Rogers paused a while before answering, seemingly to inspect my face for some sign of ill-intent. “Her Majesty requested it,” he finally replied.

I drew in a breath. My mother. Dammit, I should’ve expected that. After what Keira had told me yesterday, I should’ve damn well known that this would happen. My mother detested conflict and hated discussing unpleasant matters, so instead she simply took quiet action, cutting a problem out like a cancer and disposing of it. As a family we had long since ceased to communicate properly, and this was how we sent messages to each other, through early morning vacuuming and reassigned servants. It was childish in its way, but I got the message loud and clear:
don’t fool around with the staff.

But this time the system had fallen down, and the message was not deserved. I wasn’t just ‘fooling around’ with Keira, I actually really liked her. If she’d been a casual fling like all the other women I’d had in my life previously, then the inconvenience of her no longer coming to my bedroom every morning would’ve been enough to make me give her up and move on to someone less contentious. But she wasn’t a casual fling.

She was Keira.
My Keira.

“Thank you, Rogers,” I said, turning to leave with the intent of hunting down Keira.

But that intent was apparently obvious to Rogers. “Your Highness?”

I turned back.

“Please,” Rogers still spoke respectfully, but there was so much more buried in those clipped tones, “do not underestimate how much I care for my staff.”

I nodded. “Believe it or not Rogers, I care for them too.”

It was only a flicker, but for an instant, I was sure that an expression of understanding, and maybe even approval, pasted across the granite façade of Rogers’ features.

“Very good, your Highness.”

***

At the back of the palace lay Richmond’s stables, although the word ‘stables’ failed to adequately convey the scale of the set-up. There were barns and paddocks, hay lofts, offices and living quarters for the dedicated army of grooms, farriers and stable boys and girls who cared for the Queen’s horses, and it was into this little village that I now strolled. My presence here excited far less interest than it did below stairs; it was one of the strange inconsistencies in British nobility that the gentry were not supposed to know how a dustpan and brush works, but should be willing and able to muck out a stable if called upon.

At the far end of the little complex was the small tack room. Saddles, bridles and other associated equestrian paraphernalia were kept in the large tack room but brought to the small one when they needed polishing, and it was here that I found Keira, with a saddle across her knees.

“They seem to have put you as far away as possible.”

Keira started and a smile leapt across her face. The sight of that smile delighted me to my core; she was pleased to see me. But I also read relief into it and wondered if I’d been right, and she’d thought me responsible for her reassignment. I hoped not.

“I prefer it,” she said, still grinning. “There’s something almost zen about polishing a saddle. It’s certainly a hell of a lot better than cleaning your room.”

“You been around horses much?” I asked.

Keira laughed. “Nope. But I can more or less tell which end is which. If you give me a couple of guesses. But…I don’t know, it’s nice and peaceful out here. I don’t get to see the paintings as often, which is a shame, but there are advantages too.”

“You’re less likely to bump into members of my family?” I suggested.

“There is that,” Keira admitted. She looked coyly down at the saddle she was polishing. “I wasn’t sure I’d get to bump into you either.”

“You don’t have to bump into me,” I said, not taking my eyes off her for a second. “Wherever they move you, I’ll come looking.”

“Well, then,” Keira said, meeting my gaze. “I guess this job could be perfect. It’s usually empty in this tack room…”

I strode across the room and kissed her. I wasn’t sure if the moment was right but I couldn’t have waited any longer, and the saddle slid to the floor as Keira wrapped her arms around me, returning the kiss hungrily.

When we broke apart, I had a wicked smile on my face and a wicked idea in my mind.

“My brother and I used to play hide and seek around here.”

“That’s just a terrible pickup line,” Keira said with a smile, her eyes lit with mischief.

I said nothing, but stood on a chair in the corner of the room and grabbed a handle in the ceiling. I pulled and the trap door opened up, a ladder unfolding from it as it came.

“Emergency hay loft,” I explained. “It’s kept stocked up but people only ever come here when the barns are empty.”

I could see the slight flush in Keira’s cheek and the quickening of her breath —she liked the idea but perhaps wasn’t willing to admit how much.

“I’ve got work to do down here, you know,” she said.

“I’ll help.”

“I think that would look suspicious.”

“So is that a ‘no’?”

In answer, Keira walked across to the ladder and began to climb up. “I was due for a break, anyway.”

***

For all the romantic fiction and low budget porn films that make it seem either romantic or exciting, fucking in a hayloft is not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s very soft and sweet smelling, but it’s also itchy and provides next to no lumbar support. There are often mice, and you end up picking the strands out of your hair for days to come. In fact, sex in a hay loft depends entirely on one thing—the person you’re with. With the right person, all that other stuff faded into nothing and the romantic fantasy came to life.

Without hesitation, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to Keira’s as I slowly lowered her to the ground. Her soft, warm lips parted slowly, granting me access, and the tip of her wet tongue slid out first, surprising me and spurring me on. I greeted her with my own, our tongues fighting in combat. Taking over the kiss, my mouth captured her moans, her submission to my embrace. The taste of her lips filled me with a need to devour more of her. All of her. Bringing my hands down into her hair, I lightly pulled at it as I gently bit down on her bottom lip, tugging it between my teeth. Breaking our kiss for a second, I repositioned myself, bringing my knee between her legs, and then I leaned forward, claiming her mouth again.

Keira’s heavy breathing filled the hayloft as she began to grind herself up against my leg, seeking the friction she needed. My greedy hands worked to pull down her top, exposing her perfect tits in a white lacy bra. Her stiff nipples were outlined by the thin material, and they seemed to beg for my attention. Squeezing one tightly between my thumb and finger, I rolled over the fabric, and Keira moaned at the pressure, rubbing faster against my leg. Her hand reached for my pants, flicking the button open, and anticipation flowed through me, making my cock even harder. Her hand slid inside, pulling it out of its confines, and her tight grip squeezed my shaft firmly. The soft pad of her thumb ran along the head of my cock, and she got up on her elbows, pushing me back so that I was sitting up too. She leaned forward, and her pink tongue slowly darted out, tasting me as her sparkling eyes looked up at me, gauging my reaction.

Christ, she was so hot.

I leaned back down, and my mouth crushed hers again, fighting past her lips like a parched man in the desert who’d just found an oasis. My hand moved down her body, seeking out the lacy panties beneath her uniform, and after pulling the material aside, I glided a finger down her bare center, finding her slick and hot. Spreading her open, I slid one finger into her tightness, groaning at the snug heat, and I pulled out slowly before entering her again with a second finger.