Royal S.O.B. (A Bad Boy Romance) (21 page)

Without
a word, he came up to her, held her by the shoulders, and embraced her. Then he
held her face and pressed his powerful lips onto hers.

At
first it was a soft smooch, nothing more. Then it began growing in stature. He
pierced his tongue between her lips and forced her mouth open. Then he sent his
tongue on a wild expedition inside, exploring each little crevice. And then his
tongue got into a slanging match with her tongue, which was blocking further
entry.

Finally,
his tongue won. Pushing her tongue – and all resistance – aside, he forged
ahead. His tongue seemed so long, like a second cock!

He
thrust harder, in the small opening of her throat, and shoved with all his
force. Unable to take it any longer, Addie suffocated; she thought she was
choking to death...

With
a shiver, she woke up.
 

He
waited and waited.

It
was evening, and Kenrick had not stirred out of his chambers the whole day. Pat
had something to do in town, went by mid-morning and was yet to return.

But
Kenrick had to wait in his room – for a sealed envelope with handwriting like
pearls scattered on the alabaster page.

It
was nightfall. And that sealed envelope never arrived. His consternation was
increasing.

Why
had Addie not replied? Was she preparing for her exams? But she would have
replied at least, it was the polite thing to do – and Addie was nothing if not
polite. Or was something else up – was she not well?

Should
he call her? He had not called her thus far. Now it seemed he had no other
option. He whipped out his mobile and speed-dialed her number. It rang and
rang… and just kept ringing.

Was
this deliberate? Did she not want him to call her? It was all a series of
unknowns for Kenrick.

Did
he make a mistake? This was the first ever time he had initiated a courtship…
In fact, this episode was ridden with a series of firsts. God knows he had
never courted any woman in his life; he had never felt the need to.

What
was courtship but a tactful approach to bed a woman? Kenrick knew no tact,
simply because tact was not necessary for him. When you're used to getting what
you want the straight way, why bother with roundabout ways?

Perhaps
he did make a mistake. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced
that this was the case. He had been too eager, he'd showed his need, and now he
was paying the price. This, he'd heard through the grapevine, was the cardinal
sin that men committed. If a man was too keen, the woman made him pay for it.
It was cat-and-mouse of another kind.

Looked
at it this way, the entire world was playing cat-and-mouse with someone or the
other. That was because the world ran on negotiations, and negotiations always
involved the question as to who would blink first. That was the first step in
any cat-and-mouse game.

But,
being inexperienced in this aspect of the game, Kenrick had played right into
her hands. He felt like kicking himself. That bitch!

How
could she do that to him, who was in fact doing a favor to her by placing her
in his heart? How many women had been fortunate enough to enjoy
that
privilege?

Precisely
zero, that is how many.

Addie
was the first. Another record of sorts. And yet, to save his life, Kenrick had
no idea why she was consecrated in the temple of his heart. What qualities in
her gave her such privilege?

Granted
she was pretty, she was beautiful, she was sexy. But so were hundreds of other
women. Okay, they might not all have been royal blood, but whoever said Addie
was? She was royal by decree, not by default. That meant she was just a
commoner like the rest of them, really.

And
Kenrick had taken true-blue royal women, too. He remembered a distant cousin of
his who had come visiting once. Was she not ravishing! Maria… that was her
name. Yes – he remembered.

In
many ways, she was like Addie. She knew she had the oomph, and she knew he
wanted her. So initially she played hard to get; she took a long time to play
ball. Kenrick batted along – he was familiar with the chasing game that
preceded the mating game. He was an acknowledged expert at both.

Kenrick's
fame had spread far and wide, thanks to the Internet, social media and the
tabloids. So Maria had arrived with no preconceived notions. She was clear that
she wanted to be fucked by the prince – and not just for its badge value. The
prince was a terrific fuck any which way you looked at it. His cock was one of
the biggest. And he was one of the most handsome hunks. Notwithstanding all of
this, she was aware of her own strengths; she would employ these deftly to win
the most coveted cock in the continent.

Maria
was one smart woman. She arrived alone, accompanied with nothing but her
two-piece luggage. She followed it up with yet another clever move: She asked
for the guest lodging within the manor. She manipulated her way to ensure that
her bedroom was adjacent to the prince's chambers, knowing there was a private
door between the two. The rest could be imagined by even those not blessed with
a fertile imagination.

Yet,
on night one (she stayed but only three nights), the prince had to contend with
just a few knocks on the private door. They had met during the day, in the same
lounge at the Royal Gallery. Sparks had been flying thick and hot, and both
were ready to make love right there on the red Belgian carpet on the Gallery
floor. Kenrick pacified his rising cock with the explanation that in the
privacy of his chambers, sex would be far more exciting, and expansive.

It
was with the intention of expediting his passion that he had knocked on the
private door that connected his chamber with her guest bedroom. And he knocked
thrice, as agreed.

There
was no response. He knocked again, and still nothing stirred – except his own
cock, in anticipation.

Anger
was rising inside him. Such nerve was unheard of – he was the prince, after
all. Women fantasized to be with him, and here he was the one inviting a woman.
He decided to try just once more for courtesy's sake before abandoning his
pursuit.

Knock, knock, knock.

This
time, there was a muffled voice coming from within. Kenrick cocked his ears
against the door and could make out words forming an incoherent sentence. He
wondered if she was drunk.

"Prince
Kenrick! I'm… right here… Are you ready?" Maria's voice seemed like it was
coming from faraway.

"Yes,
Maria. Open up."

"Not
yet, Your Highness," she was slurring.

"You
may be ready, but I'm not."

Kenrick
gritted his teeth.

"Is
your cock long and hard?"

"Yes.
Open up, I said."

"But
my pussy is not wet yet. You'll have to just wait, my dear prince…"

Kenrick
banged on the door, forgetting their agreed three-knock routine. By way of
response, he only heard laughter. Maria was laughing, most likely at him; at
his thirst, at his desperation, at his cock that was now like a piece of iron,
red at the tip, but with no avenue to dip itself and pound its way to
satiation.

He
banged and banged before finally giving up.

I'll teach that bitch a
lesson
,
he declared.

Just wait till the
morning.

No,
she was not playing hard to get.

Addie
said this to herself for the hundredth time. Quite simply, that was not in her
character. Whatever it was, aye or nay, she expressed it upfront. Love it or
shove it, that was Addie.

She
knew she had to reply to Kenrick. But she was delaying it to get as much study
done as possible. Once back in his vortex, she was bound to be sucked in its
spiral, bound to be consumed by its sheer intensity.

Let me make substantial
progress in my preparation
, she told herself. Then, and only then, would she indulge
herself with a visit to meet the prince. That seemed fair.

It
was more than fair, any which way you looked at it. Which girl her age, with
the most handsome man in the country wooing her, would keep her head above
water? Which girl, given the option of seducing the prince on the one hand and
sitting with textbooks on the other, would assiduously choose textbooks? How
many girls on Earth would tell themselves that they should finish their studies
first, and only then think of meeting the prince?

Only
one girl: Addie.

For
three straight days, she thought of nothing but her books. To help her focus
better, she even cancelled her plan of getting Cate over. It would have only
distracted her, she knew, and every minute lost to distraction would be another
minute lost to not being with Kenrick. And she was saving up her precious
minutes.

On
day four, she knew it was rewards time. As a physical act of taking a break,
she pushed her books and laptop aside and took a sheet from the royal
stationery. Then she drew out her Mont Blanc. It was time to write a personal
note to the prince, her stepbrother.

Gallery. 3 p.m.

That
was all she needed to convey. She placed the largely white sheet, sprawling out
like a virgin, inside the envelope and sealed it. Then she pressed the bell.

*****

She
took care dressing up – more care than usual, anyway. She chose a translucent
top, with just her bra inside, and slid into a tightfitting pair of blue jeans.
She felt like treating Kenrick this time.

After
her revulsion that night, she'd eased off, and right now the predominant
feeling was one of love. She analyzed this trait of hers – the trait of a
yo-yo. At one point she hated him, only to give him a fair chance seconds
later. She could not put a finger on why this was happening, why her feelings
were swinging like a pendulum in an old grandfather clock.

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.

Mrs.
Bradford, being away in the afternoons for her routine administrative work,
facilitated an easy escape. She left a note for the old lady ("Off to the
Royal Gallery, will be back in an hour") and stepped out of her chambers
at a quarter-to-three. She then walked leisurely across the green towards the
Gallery.

She
knew for a fact that Kenrick would be there. She just knew it. And what was she
to expect today?

Well,
if it was an unsolicited touch the one day, she could safely assume that hand
of his would go much further today. It would go on a journey, a pilgrimage of
holy discovery, to divine parts and heavenly destinations. Perhaps.

And
today, the difference, it would be just him and her.
Just two stepsiblings in meeting
, she quipped, winking to herself.

Were
they going to show sibling affection, like that television announcer had said
on Annual Day back at the university? Well, about that she was not entirely
sure.

"We'll
just have to wait and see," she said aloud.

Only
time would tell.

*****

Addie
stepped into the Gallery at three sharp.

It
was empty. No wonder; there was no exhibition currently on. But she expected
someone, at the very least the officials. It was a surprise that it was open in
the first place.

She
walked the entire length of the hall, which was punctuated by windows at
regular intervals. Maybe someone would drop in to check; somebody might have
spotted her? She must have spent about five minutes before deciding that this
was no good.

She
stepped out onto the lawn. Rather than being disappointed, she took that in her
stride. If you were happy taking a detour and enjoyed the sights along the way,
you were a content person – she had read that somewhere. She knew that sooner
or later, Kenrick would arrive. Why stress in the meanwhile? Till then, she
would just walk on the lawn.

She
kicked off her sandals, like she used to back in her neighborhood park, and
walked barefoot on the inviting grass. It felt nice as always. As Addie had
read, it also did a lot of good for your eyes, preventing glaucoma. The fresh
grass (combined with dew in the mornings) cooled the nerve endings on your
feet, and its effect reached all the way to the eye.

Unlike
most people, she liked it when things did not happen as per plan. When it
unfolded as per schedule, there was no scope for any surprise. But when things
went wrong – as the conventional expression would have it – that was when
things would go right for her.

For
Addie, when the planned events did not transpire, it opened up avenues for
something else to happen. This something else would perhaps be more exciting
than the planned event, or it could lead to a whole new set of events that
would not have happened otherwise. It was weird, but she liked it that way.

Better to be a little
weird than boring.

She
walked from one end of the lawn to the other. When she was returning, she saw
an official running towards her.

"My
sincerest apologies, Your Royal Highness," the man was panting.

"What?"
she asked.

"May
I know why you are apologetic?"

"Your
Royal Highness, Princess Adelaide," he mumbled through his panting.

"I'm
very sorry to have not been present when you came to the Gallery."

"That's
all right," said Addie.

"It
was not planned. I mean, there was no appointment."

"Yes,
I understand." The man was breathing normally now.

"I
was actually running an errand for His Royal Highness Prince Kenrick."

"Oh?"

"Prince
Kenrick asked me to deliver this to you."

He
extended a sealed envelope, the royal emblem prominent on it.

"Thank
you," she replied, accepting it.

"And
thank you, Your Royal Highness," the man bowed.

"Have
a pleasant day."

That depends on what's
inside this
,
thought Addie, tearing the envelope open on its side.

Small
note.

Thank you.

First private cubicle
inside.