Blitzed by the Brit: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (46 page)

O
ne day soon
, we’d have to leave this place, and I’d have to go back to college, but for now I didn’t intend to move an inch more than I had to.

I woke up to a message on my phone from George.
Be back soon. Need to see a man about a dog. Keep the bed warm for me
.

I’ll be in the shower when you get back. Come in and join me
.

We’d been screwing all day, and the day before that, so I seemed to be constantly sweaty and sticky no matter how many times we shared a shower. Actually, sharing a shower often led to us getting sweaty and sticky again.

My phone vibrated on the marble surface next to the sink and then fell to the floor before I could grab it. I should have known George would reply to that message. Probably something filthy.

There was no text message, but an email had come through. I’d turned all email notifications off after George and I went public, but I’d forgotten about an old Gmail account that I didn’t use any more.

I’d switched to a new account after splitting with Stan, and everyone had my new email address. Everyone except Stan.

Hi gorgeous,

Long time no see.

Blood drained from my face, and I felt dizzy and sick at the same time. The urge to vomit kept me in the bathroom, but I sat down on the cold marble floor before I fainted.

Seems you’ve come into money. Or rather your new husband has.

I guess this is where I say congratulations. Congratulations! I’m happy for you, I really am. And I’m happy for myself too. I didn’t think you’d ever be able to repay me for the pain, and emotional distress I went through after you ran out on our wedding, but now it looks like you can.

That wedding wasn’t cheap, plus you embarrassed me in front of my friends and family. $1,000,000 should cover it.

Don’t even think about showing this to the police or pretending you can’t afford it. I want the money and if you can’t give it to me, I’ll just have to find some other way to profit from this mess.

Hmm… whatever could I sell to make some money…

I frowned at the cryptic ending to the email, and read it again. What would he sell? Stories about us? I suppose he could say I was shit in bed, but there would likely be men coming out and saying the opposite. If they didn’t, I might give them a nudge. The public deserved to hear both sides of every story after all.

It wasn’t until I closed the email that I spotted the paperclip next to it, showing that there was an attachment. Not just one attachment—twenty-two. Photos, short video clips, and a few screenshots of text messages.

The messages were from me and they were graphic. Nowhere near as graphic as the photos and video clips though. Some of them were just body shots, but there were plenty containing my face in varying stages of excitement. One picture even showed my face with evidence of Stan’s excitement all over it. The videos were all of me touching myself waiting for Stan to join me at home. I’d been bored and—much to my continued amazement—I used to desire him.

Now the entire country was about to see its princess—and possible future queen—in a way that only her boyfriend of the time was ever supposed to see.

I closed my eyes and prayed for the floor to open up and swallow me. I couldn’t handle this. There was a reason Princes and Princesses were kept in a bubble from birth. It was so they didn’t do anything foolish like sending nude photos to their partners or making homemade sex tapes.

There had to be a way out of this. If George never officially accepted his role as a prince, then as far as Stan knew, he wouldn’t have any money. We didn’t have to make the inheritance public knowledge. Stan might still release the photos out of spite, but he wouldn’t be able to blackmail me.

George didn’t want to be a prince anyway, and I sure as hell didn’t want to become a princess if it meant that videos of me touching myself, slick and wet with excitement, ended up all over the Internet. I’d go down in history with one of those awful nicknames like Slutty Sophia, or The Randy Princess.

“Everything okay?” George asked.

I opened my eyes and looked up from my position still sat on the cold bathroom floor. I hadn’t even noticed him come in. How long had I been here for? I still felt sick to my stomach. Stan could release those photos and videos at any minute. How long would it take that information to get out online? Three, maybe four seconds?

“Yeah,” I said, pushing myself up to my feet. “I’m fine. Just figured I’d wait for you before getting in the shower. Is that man’s dog okay?”

George frowned, but then laughed. “I wasn’t actually seeing… Nevermind. God, you’re adorable. Come here.”

George wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly. His hands were freezing cold on my back, but I didn’t flinch away.

I should tell him. If he changed his mind and decided to become a prince, this would be as much an issue for him as it would for me. Not to mention, it would be a national embarrassment.

I felt dirty, and not in a good way. What had I been thinking? I’d been in love with Stan at the time, but I should have known better than to do something so permanent.

“So, uh, why were you sat on the bathroom floor?” George asked.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About whether I want to be a princess after all. I’m coming around to your way of thinking. Perhaps it’s just best if claim the inheritance, and then… you know.”

“Go our separate ways?

“Yeah. After spending an appropriate amount of time together of course.”

“Of course,” George agreed. “Wouldn’t want to risk it looking fake. Maybe we should be together a little longer than we initially planned?”

“Fine with me.”

“Still want a shower?” George asked.

“Why don’t we see if this bath is big enough for two?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“
I
feel like a right tit
.”

“Well I think you look absolutely adorable,” Sophia said, as she looked me up and down.

“You’re not allowed to call me that,” I insisted. “That’s my word for you.”

“Okay, then you look handsome,” Sophia said.

“I’d be a lot more convinced if you weren’t covering your mouth with your hand to stifle a laugh.”

I never in a million years thought I would be seen dead with tight white trousers, knee high leather boots, and a whip.

“You two ready?” Harry asked, before looking me up and down. “Um, George, you don’t need a whip for polo.”

“
Someone
told me I did,” I said tersely, staring at Sophia, who was still trying not to laugh.

“You just need this stick,” Harry said, taking the whip from me and passing Sophia and me long sticks with a club at the end. “Simple game really. You just need to use this to hit the ball in the hole.”

“Simple,” Sophia said.

“Yeah,” I agreed, “except we’ll be doing it on horses.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sophia said. “It’s easy. Like riding a bike. Kind of.”

“You’ve ridden before?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, she’s used to riding a horse,” I joked.

“A few times,” Sophia replied, after elbowing me in the ribs. “A friend from school used to own a horse, and she let me ride it occasionally.”

“But you haven’t, George?”

“No,” I replied. “We weren’t really the horse riding type growing up.”

“You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”

I didn’t.

“
R
emind
me why we’re doing this again?” I yelled to Sophia as she rode past me chasing after the ball. I tried to turn the horse around, but by the time I had done so, the ball was heading back in the other direction. I should just play goalkeeper. Did they have goalkeepers in this sport?

“It’s for charity,” she yelled back.

So this is what the nobility did in its spare time—faffed around on horses for other rich people to watch. My schoolmates were going to have a great fucking laugh when these pictures came out.

I had no hope of making any contribution to the team, so I just watched Sophia riding gracefully around the field as if she’d been doing this sort of thing her entire life. She dangled so far over the side of the horse in an effort to reach the ball, it was a miracle she didn’t fall off. I, on the other hand, could barely stay on the horse even though I was making no effort to play the ball.

As usual, Sophia looked perfect. I never could keep my eyes off her when she wore tight trousers, and right now the trousers were so tight I could see her thighs tensing as she fought to stay in control of the horse between her legs.

Men like me were not meant to ride horses. I was way too fucking big for one thing. I should be playing rugby, or, at a push, football. I’d rather play cricket than this shit, and that was really saying something given my general hatred for that ‘sport.’

People on my team started shouting my name while horses from the opposing team sped towards me. I looked down and saw the ball lying still next to my horse. I should probably do something.

I leant over and swung the big club-thing in my hand. I made contact with the ball and sent it somewhere in Sophia’s general direction. Then the momentum of my swing brought my club all the way round, and made me lose balance.

Turns out losing balance while riding a horse—badly—is not a good combination. I fell. Frankly, I was amazed it took so long. I hadn’t been particularly high up, but I still managed to hit the ground with an almighty thud.

I froze and stayed still as hooves thundered past me, barely avoiding trampling all over me.

I bloody hated horses.

“
W
e’ve raised
a record amount for charity,” Harry said excitedly as he slapped me on my bruised back. “Your appearance here really made a difference. Falling off the horse probably helped as well.”

“Glad I did some good,” I replied.

Next time I’m staying in the bedroom with Sophia. I’ve never fallen off a bed before.

“Look,” Harry continued, “usually all this money would go to the Prince’s Trust, which I guess you may take over soon, but I’ve convinced the organizers to let you nominate the charity.”

“Oh sure,” I replied. “Let’s give it to the Mary Kay Foundation.”

An easy choice for me, given what had happened to my sister, although a few hundred pounds wasn’t going to go too far in the grand scheme of themes. Still every little bit helped.

“Excellent, I’ll get it set up.”

I looked around for Sophia and saw her running over to me from the stables where she’d spent some time with the horses.

“You’ll be pleased to know your horse didn’t suffer any injuries,” Sophia said, as she stretched up and kissed me on the cheek.

“Oh, excellent,” I replied sarcastically. “I’m delighted to hear that. I was so worried about the creature. As I was falling, all I could think was ‘I hope the horse is okay.’”

“If you’d have listened to the training, you would have had your feet in the stirrups properly and you wouldn’t have fallen off.”

“I was too distracted by you in those tight trousers.”

I reached around and squeezed her arse firmly before she slapped my hand away.

“There are cameras everywhere.” She flushed red and bit her lower lip, which meant we would be heading back to the hotel as soon as possible.

“Let’s get out of here,” I whispered in her ear.

“Okay, but I am not straddling anything tonight. My thighs are killing me.”

We were just about to sneak away when I heard Harry’s voice over the loudspeakers dotted around the field.

“Thank you ladies and gentlemen for coming here today. And thank you for bringing your cheque books.” A gentle laughter rippled over the crowd which by this point was giddy with champagne. “As you all know, we had a special guest here today.” The crowd all turned to face me which meant I had to force a smile and wave. “Mr. Whittemore has nominated the chosen charity, so we will be sending a check for £135,000 to The Mary Kay Foundation.”

There was probably more applause at this point, but I was too stunned to notice.

“Was I hearing things,” I asked Sophia, “or did he just say £135,000?”

“It’s a wealthy crowd.”

“Holy. Shit.”

Maybe being a prince isn’t that bad after all
.

The second Harry had finished his little speech, I escaped the crowds and got changed into some normal-people clothes.

“Ready to head back to the hotel?” Sophia asked. Then she leaned close and whispered in my ear. “I’ve kept the boots.”

I groaned in anticipation, and was about ready to pick her up in my arms and carry her back to the waiting limo when I remembered something else we should be taking back with us.

Harry ran over the second I caught his eye.

“What’s up, George?”

“Uh, I’m going to need that whip back.”