Stepbrother Prince : Cinderella Made Smutty Page 6

  He lowered me to his bed, and it was so tall that even though I was seated on the edge, my feet still ended up dangling in the air.

  “You look so young like that,” the prince murmured moodily as he moved away and walked towards the wine bar adjacent to the fireplace.

  “Or you just have an abnormally tall bed,” I countered.

  The prince smiled briefly but didn’t say anything else.

  My nervousness increased as I watched the prince pour himself a shot of whisky. The prince caught me watching and he asked, “Would you like one?”

  I shook my head.

  His lips twisted. “You do not drink?”

  “I don’t like drinking,” I clarified, stung by his tone. “It’s not because I feel I’m too young for it.”

  The prince didn’t answer, only lowering his shot glass back to the counter.

  I felt hurt and defensive. “Are you implying I’m too young?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “If you think I am,” I bit out, “then we don’t need to have this talk, do we?”

  “Yes, we do, actually. Because I’d like to fuck you, and I don’t think you’d let me do that without…” The prince’s lip curled. “A talk.”

  Oh.

  For a moment, all I could do was replay his words over and over my mind.

  Because I’d like to fuck you.

  Oh. God. Oh. God.

  “Lady Ella, are you listening?”

  I straightened. “Umm…” I saw that the prince had taken a seat on the bar stool, one foot perched on the stool’s footrest. His frown made me swallow and I said weakly, “Could you, umm, repeat---”

  “I said I wanted this to be private between us.”

  Oh.

  Conflicting emotions hit me at the words, but I knew it was a sensible request.

  His eyes narrowed when I slowly nodded. “You will not argue about it?”

  I asked quietly, “Should I?”

  His gaze darkened. “You trust too much---”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” I blurted out.

  “Yes,” he snapped. “You can trust me, but you cannot be as trusting with other people. Especially other men!”

  The possessiveness in his gaze as he spoke made me shiver with longing even as a part of me questioned the reality of it. Had I truly heard him say that? Could he really think it was possible for me to want any other man with him around?

  I wetted my lips.

  The prince saw it, and his gaze turned darker, lust glittering in his blue orbs.

  Ooooooh.

  In a throaty voice that I never even thought I could manage, I heard myself ask, “Are you jealous?”

  He stiffened. “I do not want to talk about such things.” It was the prince at his loftiest.

  A smile broke over my lips. He could deny it all he wanted, but it was obvious. He had been – was – jealous. Over me!

  “Stop looking at me like that,” the prince snapped.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I said innocently.

  “Temptress.” An accusation but said so huskily it made my body flame up.

  Oh God, I was wet again.

  “Come here.” Hunger underlined the prince’s growl.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” I said meekly, but my eyes laughed at him. At that moment, I felt like we were equals, the prince’s undisguised desire making me feel heady with feminine power.

  When I reached him, he slid off the stool and placed me on it, lifting me up like I was no heavier than a feather.

  “Open your blouse,” he commanded.

  My wicked self rose to the fore, and I shook my head at the prince. “Tell me first that you missed me when you were gone.”

  When the prince looked like he wanted to throw me over the nearest cliff, I pouted. It was the first time in my life I had pouted – or had any reason to pout – and I had to say, it felt really good.

  I even managed to flutter my lashes at him. “Please.”

  The last one seemed to do the trick, and even as the prince shook his head, he muttered, “Yes, you temptress, I had missed you. Your prince missed you. Your stepbrother had missed you every damn day he was away and now all he can think of is fucking you here and now.”

  I gasped.

  The prince’s jaw clenched, disbelief stamped on his face as if he was unable to believe he had said something so revealing. Glaring at me, he demanded acerbically, “Are we finished now?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” I didn’t have to pretend I was meek this time, his explicit words rendering me limp with desire.

  “Then open your damn blouse before I rip it apart and let you walk out here half naked!”

  The callous words should have offended me but it only made my pulse quicken and my breasts feel heavier. I really must be sick, to find his cruelty such a turn-on. But sick or not, I wanted him - my stepbrother prince – and I was done denying that particular truth.

  Slowly, my fingers started to move.

  One by one, the buttons of my blouse came undone. Inch by inch, I revealed more of myself, and I caught my breath as I felt the cool blast of the air conditioning caress my skin. Unable to help it, I raised my gaze to the prince, and I was mesmerized. The anger had faded in his eyes, replaced with such hunger – such possessive need – it made me want to offer myself to him.

  Whatever my stepbrother prince wanted, I would do it for him.

  The prince began to fondle my lace-covered breasts, his large hands more than capable of covering the pale round globes completely.

  His touch had me moaning as I struggled between feeling so shy and aroused. Even with all that we had done, everything still felt so new and I couldn’t help worrying that he would find me terribly inexperienced.

  “Relax, ukhayyah,” the prince murmured.

  “I’m t-trying.”

  “You have nothing to worry about. I love your breasts. They’re so damn big, I could feast on them forever.” He squeezed my breasts, as if to emphasize his point, and the aching sensation inside me deepened.

  I tried to stifle my moans, but the prince shook his head. “No one will hear us from here.” He released my breasts, murmuring hoarsely, “Now, bare them for me, ukhayyah.”

  My hands shook as I pulled the cups of my bra down. I whimpered as my too-big breasts spilled free, and whimpered again as I heard the prince suck his breath and look at my breasts like he wanted to devour them.

  “Feed them to me, ukhayyah.”

  Shivering with wanton pleasure at the words, I cupped my breasts and offered them to the prince.

  For a moment, all he did was stare, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

  Oh, God. The way he stared---

  And then suddenly it was there, his mouth on my breast.

  Aaaaaaaaah.

  I whimpered, moaned, and sobbed as the prince suckled on my nipples. Hard and long, possessively and hungrily, like a man who had thirsted for the taste of my nipples for an eternity.

  I looked down at his bent head, and I became so, so much wetter.

  The prince was sucking on my breasts.

  My stepbrother was sucking on my breasts.

  The thought had my hands slowly moving, my fingers sinking into his silky dark hair, and holding on to him, I pushed my nipple deeper into his mouth.

  More, I begged silently in mind. Suck on it more, my stepbrother prince.

  When the prince released my nipple, I cried out in protest, but the sound soon turned into a moan when the prince only took my other nipple into his mouth, laving it with the same hungry attention.

  Out of my mind with need, I could only melt into his hold, wanting more of the piercing ache that rocked my body as my stepbrother prince continued to suckle.

  When he suddenly released me, I looked down at him, dazedly. He was stopping…again?

  I saw him frown, his head turning towards the door, and that was when I realized the private intercom mounted on the wall was ringing insistently. Answering the call by vo
ice command, the prince asked, “What is it?”

  “Your Highness, I am terribly sorry for bothering you at this time, but I fear something has come up that warrants your attention.” Luke, the prince’s personal assistant, sounded urgent as he spoke.

  The prince slanted a glance at my way and I nodded, mouthing, “It’s okay.” I was already buttoning my blouse hurriedly as I spoke.

  “I will be out with you in a minute,” the prince told Luke and ended the call. When I was dressed, the prince cupped my face. “I am sorry for this.”

  “Duty calls,” I tried to say lightly but failed. With a shaky smile, I simply promised him, “I won’t be selfish.”

  “You have no reason to be,” the prince said just as simply. “I am coming back to you as soon as I can.”

  And he did, sooner than I expected, but when he returned, the prince’s face was blazing with anger.

  “Your Highness?” I stammered, not sure if I had something to do with his black mood.

  The look the prince sent my way answered my question, and I flinched. His voice menacingly soft, he said, “Remind me, ukhayyah. What did I make you promise before I left? Do you remember?”

  I whitened at his words, realizing with terrifying clarity what this was about.

  He knew. He knew about Prince Michael.

  The prince pointed at the door. “Get out.” When I could only look at him, shaking, he roared, “Leave before I throw you out!”

  Tears pricking my eyes, I rushed out of his suite and almost bumped into Luke, who was waiting outside the prince’s door. He took one look at me, and his face softened. “Oh, Lady Ella.”

  I didn’t dare blink, not wanting to cry. I didn’t believe I deserve to. “He’s so angry,” I whispered. “What I did – was it really that bad?”

  Luke silently handed me the tabloids he held in his hands.

  I took them, and the headlines were horrifying. The more I read, the worse they got. The media here was virtually accusing me of being an experienced seductress, an ambitious American gold-digger determined to have her own kingdom.

  As one tabloid pointed out: like mother, like daughter.

  “I thought writing letters would be harmless.” Shame colored my voice.

  Luke winced. “Unfortunately, they are far from being harmless.” Pausing, the prince’s aide then said carefully, “I understand that as someone who had not been born in the kingdom, certain nuances of our culture may not make sense to you. However, Lady Ella…you cannot also close your eyes to the truth. You are a member of the royal family now, and even if it is just for the sake of showing respect for our customs and traditions, there are rules that you are expected to uphold.”

  “In kingdoms such as ours, communication between unmarried men and women is always restricted and conducted in supervised settings. Even exchanged glances are frowned upon and there are many cases when such have been the bases of hasty engagements. I hope you bear this in mind next time, milady.”

  “I will,” I promised determinedly. But, I thought painfully, I wasn’t sure if the prince would still care that I did.

  The Consequence

  “You are being too hard on her, Khal.”

  The prince would have taken the words of wisdom to heart if it had come from anyone but Raj. The other man may be his childhood friend, but Khal also knew him to be a heartless womanizer. The Crown Prince of Najma was definitely not the best adviser when it came to matters of the heart.

  It had been a week since the scandal between his stepsister and the Prince Michael had broken out. And yet, instead of fading, the news had only spread further, as if someone was deliberately fanning the flames.

  And of course he knew who that person was.

  “We’re fortunate that whoever stole those photos did not reveal the contents,” Luke had told the prince. “The person only made sure that Lady Ella and Prince Michael’s names are seen in the pictures.”

  “It only means the owner of those photos is biding his or her time. Keep everyone digging for paper trails. No expense should be spared. I want results as soon as possible.”

  That had been three days ago, and progress had been disturbingly slow. While the prince’s trust in Luke was implicit, he was also running out of time. The more days passed, the more his kingdom’s people were unwittingly turning into his half-sister’s puppets.

  Seething with frustration at his inability to turn the tides, the prince cursed under his breath, saying to Raj, “Let’s make a run for it.” Taking hold of the reins, the prince had his horse galloping down the dunes.

  For a long time, the two pairs of men and beast trekked down the desert, charging past oases and small clumps of cacti. By the time the prince slowed down, the sun had started to set, turning the sand into a deeper shade of red.

  “You’ve found your thoughts yet?” Raj asked quietly.

  The prince didn’t answer.

  “You know old Luke is right,” Raj murmured. “She is American, and she has only been in your kingdom for a few months. Is it reasonable to expect her to memorize the millions of rules we have governing our lives?”

  “We memorized them easily enough, didn’t we?” the prince said harshly. “In any case, that is beside the point. I have expressly forbidden her to have anything to do with that man and she disobeyed me.” The prince’s mouth set in a cruel line as he remembered how furious and betrayed he had felt when Luke showed him the tabloids.

  She had promised, dammit!

  Raj chose his next words with caution, with his friend looking more like the warlords of the old than a modern-day prince who ruled from a fairytale castle. “Obedience is sweeter when earned and given freely, Khal. Forgive the girlb, and allow her to learn that the obedience you demand is not to take away her freedom but to protect her.”

  “Even if I forgive her, it may not be enough to change her fate,” the prince said bitterly. “If I do not find a way to resolve this nightmare she’s created, she may just have to marry another man or be banished from the kingdom forever.”

  The Apology

  The door to the prince’s private suite was open. Through the sliver of space, I was able to see the prince, still seated behind his desk. If I wasn’t mistaken, he had been signing contracts for the past twenty minutes.

  I tapped the soldier stationed outside the door. “Jack?” I whispered.

  “Yes, Lady Ella?” he whispered even while he remained in his post, eyes straight, back stiff, and legs braced apart like he was ready for a battle any second.

  “Has he just come back?”

  A pause.

  “He’s been back since this morning, Lady Ella.”

  “Oh.” My gaze strayed back to the door. “Jack?” I whispered again.

  “Yes, milady?”

  “Do you think he’s still mad at me because of the tabloid thing?”

  “I will pray that he’s not, milady,” the soldier answered tactfully.

  My shoulders slumped, knowing it meant Jack thought the prince was still mad at me. And who could blame him?

  Just get it over with, Ella, I urged myself as I paced in front of the prince’s study, still in my uniform since I had rushed here the moment I learned from Luke that the prince was back.

  I caught sight of my reflection on the oval mirror hanging on the wall opposite the prince’s room. Just two words, Ella, I told my mirror image. Two words and you could finally get to speak with the prince again. Giving myself a count to three, I took a deep breath then positioned myself in front of the door, in full view of the prince.

  I opened my mouth---

  Inside the room, the prince stirred in his seat, his head about to lift---

  My courage fled.

  I quickly moved away from the door, my nerves shot to hell. Had he seen me? What if he did? Would he tell the soldier outside his room to give me the boot?

  When seconds passed and the prince remained inside, I allowed myself to breathe a sigh of relief.

  My courage bac
k to level zero, I started pacing again. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But even as I rehearsed my two-word speech in my mind, I couldn’t help wallowing in self-pity.

  Two weeks. That had been the length of time the prince and I hadn’t spoken. The first few days I had told myself I could wait it out until his temper cooled. But then a week had passed, and the withdrawal pangs had just gotten worse.

  Eventually, the truth of my feelings had become undeniable.

  I missed the prince.

  I missed him so badly that sleep eluded me every night while memories of our time together haunted my mind. Everywhere I looked, he was there, the prince’s image in my mind taunting me of what I had and lost.

  The sensible part of me told me that this distance between us should be a good thing. If I used this time wisely, I could wean myself off him and put an end to my forbidden feelings for my stepbrother prince.

  But the not-so-sensible part of me?

  It just missed the prince. That was all it knew.

  Wringing my hands, I started pacing faster, ignoring the odd looks that the soldier occasionally sent my way---

  “Lady Ella.”

  Shit.

  I whirled around and my heart jumped in my throat when I saw the prince, leaning against the doorway, one eyebrow arched in question. He looked like he had stepped right out of a fashion shoot, with his elegant hand-sewn Italian suit and shoes.

  “Do you have something to say?”

  I did…but not when he looked that perfect…and indifferent. The words stuck in my throat, I could only look at the prince. He gazed back at me, his handsome face unreadable.

  Suddenly remembering that I had neglected to curtsy, I picked up my skirt, red faced. Just as I bent down, I heard the prince speak, “Follow me inside, Lady Ella.”

  When I looked up, the prince was gone.

  Straightening, I hurried into his study, anxiety threatening to rob me of my breath.

  “Take a seat.”

  As I moved forward, I heard the soldier close the door behind me, effectively leaving the prince and me alone.

  Or not.

  As I lowered myself to the seat the prince had indicated, I heard the door leading to his bedroom open. Surprised, I turned towards it, and my surprise turned into numb shock.