Prince's Dirty Little Secret (A Royal Secret Baby Romance) (7 page)

His cock keeps sliding in, further and further, and just when I'm afraid it won't be able to go any further, I feel his hips against my ass. He's all the way inside me, and I've managed to take the whole thing.

Oh my god. I can't believe it all fit inside me, but I'm fucking glad it did, because it feels absolutely amazing.

"Fuck, darling," he says, "I've never felt anything this tight before."

He thrusts in and out of me, building his pace, and I feel pleasure surging inside of me. God, I need a release after being cooped up in this palace for so long.

"Do you like it?" I say, wanting to hear his encouragement. I wrap my hands around his shoulders, and I feel his muscles contract as he fucks me, his entire body working to fill me.

"God, there's nothing I love more. Fuck, I'm getting close."

"Oh, me too," I moan.

"Squeeze for me, baby," he says. "Squeeze tight."

I squeeze my muscles as tight as I can, and it intensifies the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of me.

"Like that?"

"Oh fuck," he says, "Exactly like that."

He penetrates me deeper and harder with every thrust, and I feel my own orgasm surging up inside me.

"Fuck," I cry out. "I'm gonna cum!"

My orgasm sends him over the edge. As I start to cum, he squeezes his eyes closed and I feel streams and streams of his warm seed shooting up inside me, deeper than ever before. I've never fucked unprotected before, and the sensation of his warm cum filling me up is absolutely intoxicating. It's like a drug, and when the spurts get weaker, I feel disappointed, wanting them to continue until his cum is pouring out of me, dripping everywhere.

God, he fucks so good.

Breathing hard, he rolls off of me and pulls me close to him. The sun is starting to set outside. I sigh, resting my head against his chest.

"Hey," I say, "what if we finish up this nap and then get something really good to eat later?"

He grins at me. "Now you're living like royalty."

A
FEW DAYS LATER
, I'm hanging out with Ashley in her room while Nikolai attends a Caprion city council meeting. She and I borrowed English translations of classic North Molvanian novels from the palace library. We're reading together, bullshitting and passing the time.

I don't tell her what happened between Nikolai and I, although I think she's onto me. She's hung out a couple times with a handsome young guard who does night duty at the palace, and I also suspect she's not telling me the truth about him.

We're laying on her bed with our feet kicked up in the air when there's a harsh knock at the door. I've gotten accustomed to rude interruptions at this palace, but something about the intensity of the knock just doesn't seem right to me.

"I'll get it," says Ashley. She hops off the bed.

When she opens the door, it's my favorite person, Gaius. Today he's wearing a jet black suit. He looks like he belongs at a funeral.

"Can I help you?" says Ashley. I can tell she doesn't like him either. He's probably been on her nerves this entire time, too.

"Orders. Straight from the King."

I feel a nervous knot forming in my stomach. I don't know if Ashley has had an opportunity to meet the wonderful King Alexandr, but I know that any orders from him can't be good.

"Deportation," says Gaius, and the word rings in my ear.

They're sending us home? Now? After all this?

I think back to what Nikolai said, about him being in charge of the capital city while the King handles the rest of the country. Since we're in Caprion now, surely this decision isn't the King's. I hop off the bed and join Ashley at the door.

"Listen," I say, "The prince invited me to stay here. So that goes for Ashley, too." It's a weak argument, but it's all I've got.

Gaius laughs cruelly. "You misunderstand, little girl. The King has final authority. This decision is not Nikolai's to make."

"I want to hear it from him," I demand. I wish Nikolai were here instead of at the city council meeting, so he could set this asshole straight.

"Your wishes are irrelevant," says Gaius. "Orders are orders. Count yourselves lucky that you're not meeting a worse fate. Pack your bags and be in your respective rooms by four o'clock this afternoon."

He leaves without another word.

Ashley's hand is still on the doorknob, but I grab the edge of the door and slam it closed.

"Well," she says, "That's disappointing. But it's probably a good thing we're finally heading home. This place seems unpredictable."

"Yeah." I fear that my voice betrays my doubt. Of course, I can't spill the beans to Ashley.
Oh sorry, home doesn't sound so good after all, because I'm fucking the prince.

But the truth is, I'm torn. First, because I thought I actually had a chance to make a difference for the people of this country.

Second… well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to see Nikolai again.

That afternoon together in the hammock… I'm very eager to try that again.

But there's nothing I can do about it. Maybe he could do something if he were here. But I have no friends, no allies in this palace. No one to pull strings and get a message to him.

Oh well. At the very least I'll get a story out of this. That is, if I still have a job when I get back. Honestly, I'm terrified of what the American media is saying right now. Our faces are probably plastered all over the cable news networks and the Internet. The real Internet, that is.

I return to my room reluctantly and pack my shit. I go to one of the wooden wardrobes and swipe a traditional Molvanian dress, which I also stuff in my suitcase.

I'm sure nobody will notice it missing.

And if they do, they can afford to replace it.

At four o'clock sharp, a contingent of guards comes to my room. They're not fucking around this time. It's not just Gaius in his starched suit, it's a squad of guys with gigantic black assault rifles. They mean business.

I don't see Ashley, but I'm assured she's being treated well and will be put on the same plane.

As we step out of the main palace entrance, I see a van waiting to pick me up, the same kind that brought me in. It feels strangely sad to be departing this place now. It was almost starting to feel like home… almost.

That thought worries me. Maybe I've developed Stockholm Syndrome. Maybe that's the reason I was attracted to Nikolai.

I assure myself that this is all for the best, and I honestly am excited about the stories I'll be able to break at EDGE. Nobody else from the West has had the experiences I have. Although, the part about the hammock isn't getting within a hundred foot radius of any story I write.

I expect the van to take us toward the border so they can channel me back into Transylvania through the underground tunnel. But instead, the van takes me to a small airport on the outskirts of Caprion. It's about a 20-minute ride. There's a lightweight Cessna aircraft waiting for me there, and I can see Ashley climbing up the staircase to board the plane.

That's a relief. At least we're both getting out of here.

The van pulls up near the plane, and I board the aircraft, joining Ashley. It's a regular old plane, not a princely one. I'm surprised how accustomed to luxury I've become during my time here.

One of the guards tells me what's going to happen. We're going to be flown out of the country, through cooperative airspace, until we reach Iraq. From Baghdad, we'll take a commercial flight back to the United States.

I have no doubt there will be plenty of federal agents waiting to meet us the instant we disembark the plane.

I look at Ashley, and neither one of us speaks. For better or for worse, our adventure has come to an end.

So long to Nikolai, I think. I wonder if I'll ever find another man like him.

CHAPTER 5

^-
1
5 MONTHS LATER -

T
HE BABY'S
crying wakes me up. Again.

I look at the alarm clock, my eyes cloudy from my massive accumulation of sleep debt. It's 4:30 in the morning and I have to leave for work at 6:00. I've already been up twice tonight, and at this point it's not even worth going back to sleep.

I swing my legs out of bed stiffly, my body and brain fiercely objecting. Every part of me wants to lay down and sleep for days, but I have a little boy to take care of now.

He's crying in his bassinet, so I pick him up, cradling him in my arms. I gently rock him back and forth, trying to carry a tune. I'm so exhausted I can barely remember the words to "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."

They say birth control pills are 99 percent effective, but I guess the one afternoon I spent in the hammock with Nikolai was that last one percent. Because when I got back to the States, I missed my first period. Then I missed my second one. For a long time, I refused to even take a pregnancy test, not wanting to face reality. But my willful ignorance didn't change the fact that he'd gotten me pregnant.

I named the baby Josh, after my oldest childhood friend.

After feeding him, I take a hot shower. My vision is funny. Everything seems small and far away. That's what happens when you're as sleep deprived as I am. I've gotten used to it, though.

Josh sucks on a pacifier as I pack my bag for the day. I sigh, looking around the room. My old loft outside of downtown L.A. was like the fucking North Molvanian palace compared to this place. With how fucking expensive daycare is, there was no way I could afford to keep renting it. Now we have to make do in this tiny studio in Compton. It's not so bad though, at least when I wear ear plugs and remember to change the roach traps each month.

I tuck Josh into his stroller, making sure he's buckled in tight. Despite how hard my life has gotten since I had him, I wouldn't change it for the world. He's the greatest blessing I've ever received. But I don't think I'll ever tell him the truth about his father.

As I ride the subway to drop off Josh at daycare, I think about Nikolai. What a fucking dick. Like a fool, I thought we had something. But when the King deported me from the country, he did absolutely jack shit to stop it. Nada. I haven't heard from him since, and I don't expect to, either.

I drop off Josh at daycare after giving him a kiss on his little nose. He's a cute baby, and well-behaved too—at least during the day. Sometimes I wish the daycare could take him at night, because that's when he gets cranky.

Back on the subway, I stand against a handrail, commuters surrounding me. Everyone looks so fucking unhappy to be going to work. But the mornings on the subway are always like this. Everybody's still half-asleep, trading sleep and energy for money to pay the fucking bills.

I pull out my smartphone and take a look at the day's news. I'm in the mood for something light, so I page to the tabloids.

Maybe I can get an update on who Nikolai has been fucking lately. Though, to his credit, I haven't seen anything about that since I left. His playboy attitude seems to have simmered.

Maybe when I left, he finally found peace. Someone who's good for him.

But nothing can prepare me for what I see on the front page of the tabloids this time.

It's a picture of us. Me and Nikolai. In the hammock, naked.

The photo is blurred, except for our faces, which are shown clearly.

I'm mortified. No. Beyond mortified. I try to will gravity to reverse itself, to shoot me straight off this planet, so I'll never have to look anyone in the face again. But it doesn't happen. The train keeps rolling, the conductor announcing stations like nothing's happened.

And let me tell you, possibly the only thing worse than being in a front-page tabloid sex scandal, is being in a front-page tabloid sex scandal when you work for one of the biggest up-and-coming news agencies.

This is going to spread at work like wildfire.

My mind races as I run through options in my mind, trying to decide my best course of action. Get off at the next platform and go straight home? Call in my resignation? Or maybe just flop over on the train tracks and call it a day?

Oh my god. The shit just never ends.

Not knowing what else to do, I decide to go into work and simply pretend like nothing has happened. Maybe that'll work.

T
HE INSTANT
I set foot in the office, I know my strategy is definitely not going to work. Everyone looks at me as I pass by, snickering and whispering. Nothing like this has ever happened before at the company. EDGE loves breaking news and scandals involving other people, but it most certainly does not love scandals involving its own employees.

I ignore the sideways glances and whispers, and beeline straight for my cubicle. I boot my computer up and open my e-mail program.

Right at the top, the newest message is from my boss. It's just a subject line with no body text:
Meet me in my office at 10.

I look at the clock. It's only seven.

T
HE HOURS PASS SLOWLY
—perhaps slower than I've ever felt in my life. Worst-case scenarios scream through my head. Fired. Sued. Blacklisted from the media industry forever.

When the clock says 9:58, I can't hold out anymore. Nervously, I go to my boss's office, keeping my head down as if to make myself invisible.

I knock on the door.

"Come in."

I enter the room, and he's sitting behind his desk, his expression serious.

"Please sit down, Jenna."

I sit.

"I'm sure you know why I've called this meeting."

I swallow hard and nod. I know, he knows, and he knows I know. There's no reason to go over the details again.

"You've done some amazing work during your time here, Jenna. But I'm sorry. We have no choice but to let you go."

I feel tears welling up in my eyes, but I fight them back. I'm not going to cry in front of my boss. Instead, I just gulp and nod without saying a word.

"It's not personal. We just can't have staff associated with an international scandal like this. I'm sure you understand."

I nod.

"Please return to your desk and gather your belongings. Security will escort you out."