The Prince's Runaway Lover by Robin Covington
The Prince's Runaway Lover by Robin Covington Publication Date: July 14, 2015 Genres: Contemporary, Romance
About Robin Covington
The pounding on the door was seriously messing up his rhythm.
Nick tightened his grip on the waist and resumed his hard thrust into the tall blonde bent over and leaning against the dresser in the hotel room. Her friend, a curvy redhead, reclined on the bed and watched them, the flare of heat in her eyes telling him that she’d soon be taking her turn¼again.
It had been a great fucking day. An interesting, if somewhat easy, climb on Sugar Loaf Mountain just outside of Rio de Janeiro took up most of the day and then he and his best friend, Christopher Wheaton had headed into the city, bounced through a few clubs, and Nick had brought vanilla and strawberry back to his room.
And now some asshole was banging on his door and ruining his concentration.
“Back the fuck up dickhead!” he shouted over his shoulder, pushing in deep with a snap of his hips. It felt good. Really good and he wasn’t going to stop just because some lost drunk thought this was his room.
The knocking resumed, this time with a deep, angry shout in perfect, pissed off harmony. “Nick, you asshole, open the door.”
It was Chris. He sounded panicked and that was not something he ever was. Chris was the calm one, the even keel guy. Nick one the one with the highs of winning gold medals for his country and then the lows of getting hauled into the police station for drunk and disorderly with a screeching, jealous woman and the paparazzi in tow.
So, if Chris was trying to bring the door down at three in the morning, then something was really wrong.
Nick let go of the blonde, reaching down to the floor to snag his jeans and tug them on over his protesting hard-on before heading over to open the door. The deadbolt and room safety locks were tricky to manage with drunk fingers but he finally slid them both into the right position. He jerked the door open, revealing Chris standing in the hallway.
His expression was¼stricken¼that was the first word that bypassed the alcohol still sloshing around in his brain and the minute it manifested, ice ran through Nick’s veins. He took a step backward, glancing down at the hand Chris extended out to him. He held a phone in a tight grip, the skin around his knuckles pale in spite of the time they’d spent outside all day in the Brazilian sun.
Nick took another step back, instinctively getting as far away as possible from the device. Whatever¼whoever was on the other end of that phone was not calling to tell him good news.
“Is it my father?” He asked, not even trying to hide the fear that tinged his words,
Chris shook his head, his eyes filled with grief, sorrow, and pity.
“Who is it Chris? Who are they calling about?” His anxiety spiked even higher with the knowledge that it wasn’t his father, that the Alzheimer’s hadn’t finally claimed the body that had once held the mind it had already stolen.
Chris held the phone out to him, his gesture silently insisting that he take it before he answered the question, “It’ssbout Alec. It’s about your brother.”
Nick stood in the blazing sun that sat high in the sky over his home country of Callanos.
A red-eye flight from Brazil had been arranged within the hour of taking the call. Chris had ushered the women out of the room, packed his things and even arranged for a private fitting of the suit he currently wore in one of the VIP lounges in the private terminal of the Leonardo Da Vinci International Airport in Rome. Sometimes it didn’t suck to be a member of one of the world’s richest royal families.
The layover had been long enough to get fitted with the black, silk suit and to pick up the two caskets currently being unloaded from the private jet. Draped in the state flag of Callanos and the standard with the Lytton family coat of arms, the dark, mahogany boxes containing the bodies of his older brother and his sister-in-law were accompanied by a dozen men from the royal guard. The procession was slow and somber as they were escorted to the matching black hearses on the airport tarmac.
Nick watched, dry eyed and numb with the shock of all that had occurred in the last twelve hours since his mother had called with the terrible news. The machine of the monarchy had jumped into gear and he followed along, not so much led by conscious thought but by a lifetime of force-fed tradition.
It was that tradition that had the fully uniformed honor guard standing at attention as his brother’s casket was eased inside the back of the waiting vehicle. The loud stomp of their boots against the hard surface of the road was in unison, in perfect step as they marched into formation and lowered the flag and their weapons in a grave salute.
The crack of rifles firing¼once, twice, three times made him jump a little bit, even though he knew they were coming. But he was prepared when the lead guard shouted and the entire group repeated in unison, “God, save the King!”
And then Nick watched, stoic and silent as they turned and marched into perfect formation to face him. Once again, the weapons and the flag lowered as they snapped into perfect position and executed perfect salutes at the same time another rifle blast rent the silence in two.
And then for the first time, Nick heard the words he did not want, words that fell down around him like the avalanche he’d barely survived a year ago on a slope in India. The words were sharp with their finality, sealing his future and his fate as they were directed at him.
“Long live the King!”
“Fuck but you’re beautiful,” he breathed out between teeth clenched with the effort not drop on top of her and go at her like a rutting beast.
Nick reached over his head with one hand and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side as he bent down and unfastened his boots, kicking them to the side along with his socks. Isabel tracked his every move, her eyes not missing a single movement as it took three tries to unbutton his jeans and slide them down his legs and off his body. He straightened and stopped as she gasped and stared, leaning forward slightly as if to get a better look. Her eyes stopped on his cock and the smile twisting her lips got him harder than a spike. She liked what she saw.
“I knew about the tattoos,” she whispered, the hint of Hispanic flavor normally in her speech, deepening to a full-bodied burr of tones dipped in tequila. “But I didn't know about the piercing.”
For the briefest second her hand reached out as if to touch him but at the last second, she pulled it back and let it drift across her collarbone and down in the valley of her full breasts. Nick’s knees almost gave out as he watched her tug down one of the flimsy straps of her dress to expose a dark rose nipple and then leisurely stroke with the backs of her fingers.
“I can’t wait to feel it against my tongue, inside me,” she said as she continued to tease him and her own flesh.
“You’ll have to wait a little while longer.” Nick said as he palmed his erection, tugging lightly in the titanium ring piercing the tip as he dropped to his knees in front of the woman who was driving him wild with her sensual surrender to the need living and breathing between them. “I want to taste you first.”
He breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind her and turned to find Isabel watching him with an exasperated expression on her face. Nick walked over to her, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her. She resisted at first, stiff against him but he coaxed her response with nips of his teeth, soft swipes of his tongue along the seam of her lips. When she finally gave in an opened to him, it was the sweetest reward he’d ever earned.
“They can take my medals and the cover of the Wheaties box,” he said, pressing a last lingering kiss on the dimple to the right of her full lips. “That was so much better.”
“You’re being charming again,” she teased, her smile bursting through in spite of her obvious attempt to stay disgruntled with him. “Do they teach that in prince pre-school?”
“It’s actually a genetic thing. All of the delivery room nurses were wrapped around my finger.”
“You’re an ass,” she swatted at his chest and started to walk away but he pulled her back against him wrapping his arms around her waist.
“As long as I’m your ass,” he said, switching gears when she stiffened at his words. Isabel was not going to respond well to any attempt on his part to keep her around for any period of time. He’d read the memo but he had hard time agreeing to live by the terms with her. But if he had any chance to keep her here, he needed to play it whole lot cooler. “Temporarily your ass. Is that better?”
She nodded. “Better.”
“My flight leaves in an hour and a half so let’s get this tour underway.”
Isabel followed along, slipping her hand out of his when they left his office. Nick bit back a pang of regret but he knew she was right. The palace had ears, eyes, and the biggest mouth in the Mediterranean. The private tour would raise eyebrows but doing it hand-in-hand would guarantee him a spot on the front banner of TMZ.
“Will you be gone long? She asked as they entered the public wing of the palace.
“Are you going to miss me?”
“Not if you keep answering my questions with a question.”
“Are you always this grumpy after several orgasms?” She slid eyes wide with shock in his direction and he bit back a laugh. “Because if I have to step up my game, just say the word and I’ll get right on that self-improvement plan.”
She bit back her giggle by biting her lower lip between her teeth and punctuated her disgust with an eyeroll.
“You are a ridiculous man.”
“You are absolutely correct…” He put his hand on the doorknobs for the ornate double doors and pushed them open to reveal a room full of glittering gems, crowns, scepters and assorted gem covered items in glass cases all around the room. “…but I hope that having my very own jewelry store might make up for it.”
Isabel gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. He would never forget the look of pure delight on her face, no trace of her troubles and none of the secrets. She took a couple of steps into the room, lowered her hands and cut him a look that made his dick hard and his heart race.
“Can I try some of them on?”
He grinned. “I think that can be arranged.”
“I want you to eat me up, right now.”
He took her up on the invitation and jerked her to him, lifting her off her feet so suddenly she wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight grip. She tasted like sunshine and something so tempting and dark that he knew she was bad for him. The type of bad that makes a man forget his obligations and give up anything to spend forever wrapped up in it.
He was going to forget for one night.
He coasted a hand over the beaded bodice of her dress and dipped a finger underneath the silk of the gown and her bra to find her nipple. It tightened under his caress at the same time she dove into his mouth and took it with a fierce growl. He circled the tip, squeezing it gently until she threw her head back in a gasp and a moan that echoed off the marble floors and plaster walls of the villa.
Nick tasted her throat with his tongue, nibbling at the pulse that pounded just under the thin layer of her skin. “Damn Isabel,” he said against her flesh. “I want to fuck you here. Right now.”
She half-laughed, half-sobbed, her own desire dripping from every word. “Not in front of the servants.” Her head lolled forward and she pressed a swift kiss to his mouth. “Take me to bed. I want you inside me. I need it.”
Nick lowered her to the floor and turned quickly, then led her up the stairs to the second level where light spilled out of an open doorway. Isabel followed behind, her own quick breaths joining his as the only sound except for the muted music floating out of the hidden speakers and the faint tick of a clock. He barely got her inside the room and closed the large double doors of innately carved wood before she was in his arms again and they were joined in a frantic press of lips and tongue.
Her hands were at his tie, fingers untying it with haste that made it take twice as long. He shrugged out of his jacket, letting it slide off his shoulders and then feeling it tumble to the floor when gravity kicked in. Nick plunged his fingers into her hair, enjoying the cool slide of her dark curls as they wrapped around his fingers and gave him the grip he needed to hold her in place while he ravaged her mouth.
He was not coaxing tonight, not as patient as he should be. Not this time. Later. Much later when his cock was sated and he was too exhausted to do anything but slip inside her and ride out the slow build of her orgasm. Now he wanted her so badly his hands shook with adrenaline and lust.
He released her quickly, hands on her shoulders to steady her as she blinked away the haze of passion in her eyes. When she was steady he began removing the studs from his shirt, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them all on the floor in a discarded heap. Isabel watched his hands as they completed their tasks, a soft whimper escaping her throat when she shoved down his boxer briefs and his erection sprang free, hard and ready for her.
The sound she made caused his dick to throb and he had no choice but to take it in hand and stroke it. His own touch only eased the pain of his arousal and he knew what he needed to answer the need fully.
“Take off the dress.”
“Don’t you want to do it?” she asked in that pouty, sexy, Spanish-tinged drawl that made his eyes cross.
“If I touch it, it will end up in shreds on the floor. If you love it, you’ll take it off. Now.”
“You want to tell me why you didn’t want your photo taken?”
She shook her head, the sudden dryness of her throat and the new shot of adrenaline making it impossible to speak.
“Are you ever going to tell me?”
She just stared at him, her silence speaking volumes.
“Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, lifting a hand to cup her jaw, his thumb gently stroking along her jaw in a move that soothed as much as it shot her adrenaline level back up. “I don’t know whether to thank you for taking me to the camp or to walk away and leave you and your particular brand of trouble alone.”
The only thing she could think to say was the same warning she’d issued previously and ignore the part of her that hoped he didn’t heed it¼once again. “I’m not staying and I’m”
“You’re no Cinderella. You’re a bad idea. I heard you.” He shifted in closer to her body, his length pressing her further back into the stone. He was like a furnace to her front and the contrast with the chilled stone made her shiver. He was not the cause of the tremor, not even a little bit. She would just keep telling herself that and it would be true.
“Thanks for the warning but I’m a big boy and I can make all the bad choices I want.” He dipped his head, nose brushing against hers as his breath warmed her lips. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of this man who could have any woman in the world but was hell-bent to have her. His voice was rough when he murmured, “You’re a bad choice that I can’t wait to regret.” He took her mouth, living up to his pronouncement with the deep thrust of his tongue as soon as she gasped with the pleasure of his intrusion and the heavy full press of his body against hers. It was as if they’d been kissing each other forever, the twining of their tongues, the angle of their mouths fitting together perfectly.
Their lips nipped, explored, tongues plunging and tasting and she moaned when his one hand slid along her neck to tangle his fingers in the mess of her hair while the other delved under her T-shirt to glide across the skin of her belly to cup her breast. She pushed into his touch, silently pleading for him to tease her nipple through the light cotton of her bra. It was his turn to moan when the movement caused the strap to slip off her shoulder and drag the cup down, allowing him room to caress flesh against aching flesh.
His skin was rough and calloused, and the sensation lit up her nerve endings. Her breasts, unwilling to keep the pleasure all to themselves, sent hot tendrils down her belly and into the core of her. Wet. Hot. She was dying for him, panting against his mouth as she was taken to the place where all she could do was feel.
Isabel looped her arms around his neck, hanging on for dear life as her legs really did give way under the avalanche of sensations ricocheting inside her body. It had been years since she’d felt this kind of pleasure, had wanted and craved it like it was sustenance to her very being. She wanted him, the shock of it catching in her throat as she gave in to desire that she’d thought had left her completely. She was awake, alive, and finally craved the touch of a man again.
Nick broke away from her mouth, pressing a trail of heat and wet kisses along her neck and angling down along her collarbone.
“Nicky,” she gasped as she gripped his shoulders, nails digging in at the contact of his thigh against her core as he wedged his leg between her own. She moved against his hard muscle, the sharp spikes of electric pleasure beginning in her core and warming her belly into an inferno of desire. “Oh my God, Nicky.”
She felt his smile against the skin just below her ear, the huff of his laughter in her hair. “I like that.”