Scrolling through the newsfeed on my phone, I couldn’t help but smile. Emily had just finished up her third official engagement as my real fiancée, and already her picture was everywhere. She’d gone to visit a primary school to chat with students about mental health awareness. According to the headlines I was reading, Emily had made a real impression.

Princess-To-Be Emily Kilpatrick Brings Cheer To Local School

Emily Kilpatrick Stuns In Alexander McQueen Coat and Dress

Future Royal Follows in Princess Caroline’s Steps in Outreach to Children

Not that it was any surprise. As soon as the transition was complete at EP Designs, Em took the bull by the horns and dove headfirst into her new role at Primrose Palace. We were unbelievably lucky to have her. In the few short weeks she’d been with us, she’d managed to take on more patronages and raise more money than I’d done in months. She was constantly taking calls, constantly reaching out to charities in need, museums, cultural heritage sites. At The Prince’s Foundation, she was an absolute force of nature.

My heart swelled. Together, we were going to do great things.

“What’ll it be tonight, sir?” Brendan asked, settling his hands on the bar.

I was at Jacob’s Club. Emily and I made it a habit to come here for date night every Friday. I was waiting for her to arrive, giddy with excitement like the happy tit I was. I loved our date nights. Actually, I loved all our nights together.

“I’ll just stick with water for now, thanks,” I said, nodding at the glass Brendan had set in front of me.

“He’ll take a bourbon,” a voice said behind me. “I’ll take one too, if you don’t mind, Brendan.”

Brendan smiled as Emily slid onto the barstool beside mine. “Hello, Miss Kilpatrick. You’re looking lovely as always,” he said.

“Thank you,” she replied. She turned to me. Her face was lit up with a megawatt smile. Her eyes glittered. “Hi.”

For a moment I just stared. Would I ever get over how beautiful she was?

I took her face in my hand and kissed her. Her lips were soft, warm. Immediately a pulse of desire moved through me. I was no better than Pavlov’s dogs. I’d trained my body to become aroused the second Emily stepped into the room.

The hunger I had for this girl was surreal. I kept waiting for it to fade, for the initial rush of excitement to peter out. But it only seemed to get stronger the longer we were together. I lived in a constant state of half-arousal.

I didn’t mind that, either.

We’d fucked everywhere. In the throne room at Buckingham (couldn’t resist). In my car. On the private plane we’d taken to Paris.

I glanced around the club. But we hadn’t fucked here.

Sipping the bourbon Brendan had slid across the bar, I nudged my nose against Emily’s ear. “Meet me in the loo.”

Her eyebrows shot up, understanding flashing across her green eyes. Her perfect lips moved into a small, secret smile. She nodded.

I didn’t hesitate. Excusing myself, I headed to the back of the club and pushed into one of the posh bathrooms. The loos were small rooms unto themselves, exquisitely decorated. In this one, the walls and ceiling were covered in antiqued mirrors. The lighting was low. Moody.

Perfect.

Emily slipped into the room a minute after I did, a glass of bourbon and her mobile in one hand.

“You think they know what we’re doing?” she whispered.

I stepped forward, pressing my body to hers as I tucked her hair behind her ear. “Probably.”

She bit her lip. “I should go.”

“You should.”

Meeting my eyes, she took a sip of her bourbon.

“Put it down,” I said.

One side of her mouth kicking up, she set the glass and the mobile on the edge of the sink. She leaned her hip against the counter. Turned to face me.

“Awful bossy tonight, aren’t we, Mr. Thorne?”

I rolled back my shoulders and took off my coat. I hung it on the hook on the back of the door.

“Is that going to be a problem, Miss Kilpatrick?”

She shook her head. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good,” I said.

I moved across the room in one, two strides. I grabbed Emily by the hips and spun her around so she was facing away from me. Facing the mirrored wall in front of us. Our eyes met in the mirror. Hers danced.

She sucked in a surprised, aroused breath when I pressed her against the wall. She put her palms against it, her eyes never leaving mine in the mirror.

I reached down, reached inside her dress. She was wearing stockings, a thong. I tugged them down, working them over her ass, down her legs. Cupping her ass, I slid my hand between her legs from the back. Her eyes went glassy, dark, when my middle fingers met with her pussy.

My dick leapt. She was already soaking wet, slippery with arousal. I watched my nostrils flare in the mirror.

I wanted to make her slippery with my cum.

“How long have you been like this?” I growled.

Emily’s lips fell open. “Since I got in the car to come here.”

“Jesus Christ,” I said.

“Please.” She rolled her hips against me. “Touch me, Kit.”

Slowly, I sunk my middle finger inside her. Then I moved my index finger to her clit, stroking it, toying with it, all the while pressing my middle finger to the front wall of her pussy, just like she liked it. Her eyes fluttered shut. She started to pant, louder and louder.

I was already so hard I couldn’t see straight.

I needed to fuck this girl, now, quick and fast before we got caught.

She moaned when I pulled away my hand. My fingers shook with impatience as I unbuckled my belt, worked at the fly of my trousers.

“Kit,” Em was saying. “Please.”

Taking my dick in my hand, I gave it a quick tug. Emily watched in the mirror, breathing hard.

I stepped forward, wedging my leg between hers to spread them wider, pressing her against the wall. I slid my cock between her ass cheeks. Slid it all the way down her slit. Fuck, she was soft. Hot.

Perfect.

She moaned again, so loud I worried we’d get caught.

Positioning myself at her entrance, I met her eyes in the mirror. Then I bucked my hips and buried myself inside her, capturing her moan with my hand as I put my palm over her mouth.

With my other hand, I reached around to her front, pressing my first two fingers against her clit. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her cunt contracted around me.

Holding her against me, I began to slam into her, again and again and again, pressing her against the wall, making her cry out against my hand. She opened her eyes and watched in the mirror as I fucked her. I watched as she fucked me back. I looked like a man possessed. I was delirious, impatient. I was dying of pleasure inside her. She was so tight and so close—

Emily’s cunt gripped me, and then she came, biting my hand as the waves hit her. I pumped into her again, and again, and then I was coming, too, the roar of blood enormous in my ears, my chest.

I pulled out of her. Spun her around so she faced me. Her skin was flushed. Her eyes sated.

She smiled. “God, you’re good at that.”

“I know,” I said, leaning down to kiss her mouth. I tasted the bourbon on her lips. It burned.

It was so fucking sweet.

Emily traced her fingers over my lips. “Always so cocky.”

“You don’t seem to mind it.”

“I don’t.”

A mobile began to ring. Emily glanced at her phone on the sink, lit up with an incoming call.

“Who is it?” I asked.

She shook her head, a small smile of disbelief playing at her lips. “Luke.”

I met her eyes. “You going to answer it?”

“Fuck no.” Emily pressed her mouth to mine as the call went to voicemail. “Hey. Want to ditch dinner and skip right to the good part tonight?”

I grinned. “Didn’t the good part just happen?”

Emily reached down and wrapped her hand around my dick. “It can happen again if you’d like.”

I looked down at her. God I loved this girl.

“I’ll get the check,” I said.

* * *

Kit was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. A wicked little smile worked its way across his lips as he devoured me from head to toe with his eyes.

“You sure you don’t want to cancel?” he said, pressing a kiss onto my mouth. “We could have dinner in bed instead.”

I grinned. “I’d love to. But we have to get the ball rolling. There’s a lot for Aly and Rob to do before the wedding.”

We’d invited Aly and Rob over for dinner. Traditionally, royal weddings didn’t have maids of honor or best men. But we’d decided to break with tradition and do a bit of our own thing. Tonight, I was going to ask Aly to be my maid of honor, and Kit would be asking Rob to be his best man. They’d be a big part of the wedding planning, the ceremony, and then of course the joint bachelor/bachelorette party Kit and I wanted to have. Which meant they’d have to work together a fair bit over the next six months.

“You’re nervous,” Kit said, watching as I smoothed my dress over my thighs.

“Aren’t you? The two of them don’t exactly get along.”

Kit scoffed. “That’s an understatement. But don’t worry. I’ll have a chat with Rob about behaving himself.”

Aly and Rob had butted heads ever since they’d started working on the School for the Arts together a month or so ago. It made sense why they didn’t get along. Aly took life seriously. As the new owner of EP Designs, she had to be responsible. But Rob was literally the opposite of responsible. He served his family well enough. But beyond that, his life was one giant, never-ending party.

Kit led me down the hall to the drawing room. I bit back a laugh when I heard Aly and Rob arguing. And then we stopped in our tracks when we heard what they were arguing about.

“What do you mean, you’ve met someone?” Rob said. “Don’t tell me it’s that Philip bloke—the uptight wanker you met on Bumble. It’s been one bloody week, Aly.”

“As a matter of fact, it is Philip,” Aly sniffed. “He’s a nice guy. A responsible guy. I can already tell I like him. So what you and I have been doing has to stop.”

Kit turned his wide-eyed gaze on me.

“What the hell? Are Aly and Rob—”

“Hooking up?” I whispered. “Sounds like it.”

“Why the hell would you want that? Bloke sounds like an absolute bore,” Rob was saying. “I’ve made you come. A lot. Hell, I’ve made you come six bloody times in one night.”

“And I’ve appreciated that. But now this—whatever this is between you and me—it needs to stop.”

“This is good, Aly. Really, really good.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t. But it’s not what I’m looking for. Not in the long term.”

Kit tore a hand through his hair. “Bloody perfect,” he groaned. “This should make for an interesting summer.”

Look out for Aly and Rob’s story (Flings with Kings #2) in Spring 2018! Sign up for my to be notified when it goes live.