His Royal Secret (19 page)

“But this is a German company. It’s not legal here. You won’t get in trouble, will you?”

“I can handle trouble.”

Warner’s low chuckle sounded in Ben’s mind, and the memory of how his first lover had brushed his hand across Ben’s jawline—still soft with more peach fuzz than stubble, at that age.

Then Warner had tugged down the sheet over Ben to reveal his naked body again. How Ben remembered the mixture of embarrassment and anticipation he’d felt. He’d lost his virginity to Warner only a couple of weeks before that day, and he had still felt shy enough to keep the sheet up to his waist when their lovemaking was done.

But Warner never paid any attention to boundaries. Nor had he been done with Ben that day. Would he ever be done? Or would he keep e-mailing, cajoling, demanding?

At least Warner had taught Ben one thing worth knowing outside a bed. He had taught Ben the value of freedom. Having slipped Warner’s leash once, he did not intend to get caught again.

Another press release, this one completely unrelated to Ben’s beat:
The Prince Regent and Lady Cassandra Roxburgh to Attend Royal Prom Tonight.

Ben snorted at the thought of a royal prom for the American usage of
prom
; although he knew this would be a symphony concert, he tried to picture James and Lady Cassandra posing beneath an arch of metallic streamers and balloons, a corsage on Cassandra’s wrist.

Of course he knew, perhaps better than anyone else in the whole of the United Kingdom, how utterly platonic James and Lady Cassandra’s relationship actually was. Despite his general contempt for closet cases, Ben had even come to accept their charade as a necessary layer of protection for Princess Amelia.

Yet at that moment he could only think of the layers and layers of deception—in James, in Warner, in everyone else. Ben found himself hungry for the truth.

He’d make James want it too.

•   •   •

“Sandy! Over here! Over here!”

“Look this way!”

“Sir! Sir! Are wedding bells in the future?”

Both James and Cassandra ignored the paparazzi. Cassandra headed straight for their car, her long black silk gown a sinuous line on the red carpet, while James shook a few bystanders’ hands. Their faces lit up every time, boosting his spirits.

Once he was back in the car and the door had been slammed shut, James immediately went for the small tube of hand sanitizer he always kept in his pocket. “Thank God for this stuff,” he said as he rubbed it in. “Otherwise I’d spend half my life with the flu.”

Cass fidgeted in her seat. “I just want to take off this bloody strapless bra. The thing might as well be a medieval instrument of torture.”

“It’s not
that
bad.”

“How would you know?” she retorted. “You’ve always said cross-dressing wasn’t your thing, and if you were transgender, you’d have told me.”

“Very well, I don’t know anything about strapless bras. But I’ve seen some of the artifacts they’ve taken from dungeons. Trust me, they were worse.”

“Oh, all right, all right.” Cass’s scowl made him smile. She dressed up so rarely, despite the stunning results. That night she might have been a Hollywood film star, with the black dress setting off her porcelain skin and her freshly trimmed pixie cut framing her face to show off the emerald earrings she’d inherited from some countess who was an aunt of hers. As she fished in her evening bag to retriever her mobile, James reflected that anyone else looking that good would be taking selfies by the dozen. Cass probably wanted to check the sport scores.

“Staying over?” James asked. “I’m not having any company.” Even though the divider between them and the driver was soundproof, he would never refer directly to Ben outside the confines of Clarence House.

She didn’t glance up from her phone screen. “Sure, might as well.”

“I didn’t think Arsenal were playing tonight.”

“Oh, I’m just updating my parody account.” Cassandra flashed the phone at him, revealing the Twitter feed of “SoRandySandy.”

“Wait. You run your own parody account?”

“Why let someone else have all the fun? I can only endure wearing this getup if I get to mock it viciously afterward. Besides, it turns out I’m rather good at pretending to be me.” Her cheeks dimpled as she pointed to her number of followers.

Good Lord, was that . . .
three quarters of a million people
? James started to laugh. “Well done, you.”

When they arrived at Clarence House, Glover helped them in with the same silent courtesy he gave Ben, showing not one sign that any difference existed between the two visitors.

Cassandra stooped to snuggle Happy and Glo, careless of the dog fur being shed all over her gown. “James, do you have an engagement tomorrow morning?”

“Reviewing the troops, bright and early.”

“Perfect. I can loll about all day and then show myself disheveled downtown, so the paps can document my ‘walk of shame.’”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest as he leaned against the doorjamb. “All this time, I thought you were my selfless friend. Turns out you only want raw material for ‘SoRandySandy.’”

“You’ve found me out at last,” she answered, matching his teasing tone. As she headed for the door, high-heeled shoes dangling from one hand, Cass paused to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m shutting the doors so you don’t wake me at dawn.”

Her suite on the next floor up featured heavy doors at both the bottom and top of the stairwell. Just the sort of thing a couple would want for privacy, or to disguise that they weren’t a couple at all. “Don’t hesitate to let Glover know if you want breakfast.”

“Have I ever hesitated to ask for food?” She shook her head as she went through the door, the dogs at her heels, murmuring as if to herself, “It’s like the man doesn’t even know me.”

James chuckled as he slipped the knot of his tie and began unbuttoning his vest. Really he ought to have allowed Paulson to undress him tonight, but his very un-royal need for privacy had won out, as it usually did.

The landline rang. James frowned, first in confusion, then in dismay. That line was only for the most intimate personal calls and emergencies. A call at this hour most likely meant Indigo was in trouble again. He dashed to the receiver. “Hello?”

“James,” Ben said, a low, unfamiliar, and tantalizing note in his voice. “I thought you’d get back around now.”

“Only just. Is anything wrong?”

“Yeah. Your mouth’s not around my cock.”

Ben had never spoken to James like that before—demanding, almost angry, and yet sexy as well. This seemed to be another kind of role-playing. If so, James liked it. Was this leading up to phone sex? He couldn’t risk that, not even on the landline, but he couldn’t resist flirting a little longer.

“I’m very sorry,” James said, as innocently as he could manage. “If you were here, I’d do better.”

“I
will
be there, within fifteen minutes,” Ben growled. “All night I’ve hung around this office so I could call and tell you to get yourself ready. When I get in, I expect to find you naked in bed, ready to do anything and everything I tell you to. Do you understand?”

James’s heart had begun to thump crazily in his chest, and his cock began to stiffen. “Yes,” he said softly. “I understand.”

“Good.” With that, Ben hung up.

James was torn between arousal and dismay, because Cass was just upstairs. Never had he and Ben made love while someone else was in this area of Clarence House.

But . . . Cassandra’s suite was private. Sound didn’t travel. He and Ben could go ’til dawn, and Cass would be none the wiser. Grinning, James began undressing in earnest.

Get yourself ready
, Ben had said. So James grabbed the lube and squirted a fair amount into his hands before he lay back onto the bed. With his left, he started working his ass; with his right, he began stroking his erection. He meant only to keep himself hard for Ben, but already anticipation had turned him on almost past waiting. The mere brush of his thumb against the tip of his cock dizzied him.

Just the shaft, then.
But really James thought he wouldn’t even need to touch himself to stay hard. The ruthless domination he’d heard in Ben’s voice was the hottest thing he’d ever heard.

So he waited, never leaving the bed, in a daze of arousal and need until he heard the first footfalls and gasped at the sudden spike in his desire.

Ben walked in without knocking, pausing only to shut the door behind him before stripping off his jumper. “Stay there,” he ordered as he unbuckled his belt. “Wait.”

“Yes,” James whispered.

He watched, spellbound, as Ben opened his fly and took out his enormous cock, already fully hard. With his jeans slack at his hips, Ben came to the side of the bed and fisted his hand in James’s hair. James opened his mouth just in time for Ben to plunge inside.

“There. That’s what you really want. You want to suck cock.” Ben’s grip on James’s hair tightened, pulling just to the point of pain. “Don’t you? Isn’t that what you really want?”

Unable to reply, James answered by sucking harder, using his tongue to tease the head. He’d showed Ben just how much he loved this.

“Are you touching yourself?” Ben said. “Stop that. You don’t get to touch your cock tonight. I do that.”

James pulled his hand back. He needed nothing else to maintain his erection, nothing but the salty taste of Ben’s pre-come in his mouth and the roughness of his voice.

Just when he thought he was getting Ben close, Ben pushed his head to the side, stepping aside. “The first night you fucked me, you made me beg for it.”

“Yes, I did.” That memory had lost none of its exhilarating power.

“Now it’s your turn to beg.”

Ben took James in his grip and started stroking him. By now he knew the rhythm James liked, the perfect amount of pressure. But at the moment James began to feel his climax approaching, Ben let go.

“Ben—” he groaned, before remembering the role he was to play. “Please keep touching me.”

“Beg for what you really want.”

“Please let me come.”

“No.”

Ben stroked him to the brink again, a third time, then a fourth. Each time, James pleaded more desperately for release, and each time, Ben denied him. James begged to go down on him again, to earn the orgasm he now needed so much it almost hurt, but Ben wouldn’t give him that either.

Finally, just when James thought he might explode, Ben grabbed his arm and pulled him off the bed, sending him sprawling on the floor. “Right there,” Ben said, shrugging off his jeans as James waited on his hands and knees. “I want you right there.”

James, panting and dripping with sweat, only nodded. Ben kept asking him to beg, but it wasn’t begging Ben really wanted. Tonight he demanded obedience—a kink even more delicious for one of the most powerful men in the world. James could indulge in the luxury of surrender.

“No condom,” Ben said. “You know I’ve played it safe for you. Now I’m going to ride you bare.”

Fear tinted James’s arousal only for a moment, only long enough to send fresh adrenalin coursing through his veins. He knew how careful Ben was. James could trust him even in this.

Ben had no sooner kneeled between James’s splayed legs than he angled his cock and pushed in. James cried out in pleasure, though it would’ve been pain if he hadn’t prepared himself first. Ben wasn’t taking his time; he wasn’t going gentle. He thrust in fiercely, then again, until he was buried in James to the hilt. Grabbing James’s hair once more, Ben started fucking him savagely.

Oh, God, oh, God
, James thought, near the point of delirium. They’d never been this rough before. Only Niall had ever come close to treating James this way, and he had played the dominant as such an obvious power grab that James had not enjoyed it—merely tolerated it.

But this? This he
loved
.

He moaned in ecstasy as Ben hit that spot. Ben rasped, “Shut up.”

Then Ben thrust harder, so much so that James could hardly keep himself upright. The slap of their bodies against each other sounded so loud, even brutal, and yet it was perfect. James’s neglected cock throbbed, yearning for the orgasm Ben still denied him.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please let me come.”

“You want to come? Earn it.” Ben went still, and his hands tightened at James’s hips. “Fuck yourself on my cock. Do it as hard as I was doing you. I’m not going to move a muscle. If you can make me come like this, then I’ll do you. If not, I’m just going to have to tie your hands up all night.”

How could that simultaneously sound like torture and rapture? James didn’t care. He just wanted to make Ben come.

So he started rocking back and forth, taking Ben’s cock in as deep as he could bear. Ben remained as still and hard as stone, even when James sped up, even when he went harder. He was impaling himself on Ben so roughly that he didn’t understand how Ben could remain upright—but he did. No doubt he was fighting his orgasm in order to force James to work harder.

James worked harder. He began tilting his hips with each thrust in a slow spiral. And that, at last, got to Ben.

“There you go,” Ben murmured. “That’s good. That’s good.”

Oh, thank God.
When Ben’s breaths quickened, James knew they were close. He sped up, bracing himself to endure the force of it—

Suddenly Ben pulled out; James heard the catch in Ben’s throat the instant before he felt come spatter across his back. In triumph and relief, he tried to think how to beg Ben with words again.

But Ben needed no more begging. Almost immediately he reached around and took James’s aching cock in hand.

“That’s good,” Ben said again, as though he were the one receiving the hand job. Maybe he took as much satisfaction in getting James turned on like this as he did in his own orgasm.

It didn’t matter. James couldn’t think about it. He was finally wrapped in Ben’s strong fingers, finally thrusting into that tight grip, and his arousal spiked again. Although he held off as long as he could, it was only a few minutes before James came too, spurting onto the rug and his own hands against the floor.