Royally Screwed
Page 47

Nicholas flinches.
And Henry’s jaw drops. “No! My brother did that? Mr. Prim and Proper in Public—I don’t believe it.” He nudges me with an elbow. “How much did he offer you?”
I grin evilly at Nicholas and he looks like he wants to strangle me just a little bit.
“Ten thousand dollars.”
“You cheap bastard!”
“I was pissed!” Nicholas defends himself. “If I’d been sober, the starting bid would’ve been much higher.”
And we all laugh.
Nicholas puts his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m in the penthouse at the Plaza…let’s get out of here. Come back with us.”
Henry’s demeanor changes then. Like the thought of being in a quiet place for too long panics him…but he’s trying to hide it with a forced smile. It’s only then that I notice the gauntness of his cheeks and the dark circles below his eyes.
“I can’t. I just got in—lots of people to see, shots to drink, lasses who’ll be so disappointed if I leave without fucking them. You know how it is.”
Nicholas’s eyes narrow. “When can I see you, then? There’s much to talk about, Henry. How about breakfast, tomorrow?”
Henry shakes his head. “I don’t eat breakfast. Since I was discharged, I make it a point not to rise before noon.”
Nicholas rolls his eyes. “Lunch, then?”
Henry pauses, then nods. “All right, Nicky. Lunch it is.” He turns his head, looking into the crowd. “I have to go—there’s a gorgeous little piece I promised to trade costumes with.”
And he points to a redhead in a Little Mermaid getup.
Nicholas grasps his brother’s shoulder, like he doesn’t want to let go.
“Until tomorrow.”
Henry pats his brother’s back and nods to me, then disappears into the crowd.
In the limo, on the way back to the hotel, Nicholas is quiet, the sound of the pelting rain and occasional thunder filling the silence.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He rubs his lower lip with his finger, thinking. “He looks awful. Like he’s haunted…being hunted…hiding from something.”
I don’t want to tell him it will be all right; that’s too flippant, too easy. So I give him the only thing I think will help—a hug.
While the rain smacks against the windowpane outside, Nicholas thrusts into me from behind, long and slow. His thighs are spread, bracketing my closed ones; I feel them tighten each time he pushes forward, pressing his chest against my back, his pelvis against my backside, like he can’t stroke deep enough. But then, suddenly, he pulls out of me and the bed jostles as he straightens, rising up on his knees behind me.
He taps my back with his wet cock. “Roll over, love.”
My languid limbs do his bidding without question and I watch as Nicholas strokes his fist up his thick hardness—taking the condom off and tossing it over the edge of the bed to the floor. He’s very careful about the condoms. I started birth control a few weeks ago, and even though it’s definitely effective now, he still uses them every time.
Nicholas taps against me with his erection—this time my stomach—then he shifts up my torso, keeping most of his weight on his knees.
And his eyes—God—his eyes smolder with lust, burn bright even in the dim light of the room, gazing down at me, planning his next move. I don’t have to wonder long what that move will be.
Nicholas cups my breasts in each large hand, and a bolt of tingling sensation streaks a path to my pelvis. He pinches my nipples and I moan loudly, arching my back for more. I feel him shift above me, then his cock slides against my sternum. Oh God, I’ve never done this before.
But I want it—with him. I want to watch his hips piston, feel the thick heat of his come on my chest, hear his groans of pleasure.
And a moment later, Nicholas gives me everything I want.
He presses my breasts around his cock, gentle at first, then tighter, harder, like he’s barely holding onto his control. I open my eyes because I have to see—I need to keep this picture in my mind forever. It’s the hottest, most erotic image. His chiseled body moves faster, glistening with a fine sheen. His fingers dig into my flesh and little growls escape from deep within his throat. His eyes are the deepest green, hooded by those long, pitch-black lashes. They flare wide when my hands cover his, taking over for him. I don’t want him to hold back. I want him to move, to grind on me. Take me. Take everything.
My hands push my breasts closer, tighter around the slick cock slipping between them. He grips the headboard and it shakes when he uses it for leverage as he fucks my chest. His jaw is clenched and his brow is soaked with sweat—little drops fall on my collarbone, surprisingly cold compared to the slide of his heated skin.
A burst of air puffs from his perfect lips. Air and the sound of my name. Falling, begging, demanding. “Olivia, fuuuuck—Olivia.”
I’ve never seen anything more amazing—more intense—than this man moving above me. Making love to me in this dirty, thrilling way—giving us both more pleasure than I’ve ever known. The headboard beats against the wall once, twice, then Nicholas’s back arches and his head tilts back and he roars. His come, warm and thick, splashes across my chest, trickling down my neck, mixing with my own perspiration.
The moment his beautiful dick stops pulsing, Nicholas stretches out on top of me, covering my body with his, pressing us together, taking my face in his hands and kissing me wildly. It’s sticky and messy and perfect.