Oh god.

I’ve been so angry with him that I’ve totally forgotten.

This whole time, in my head, I’ve just been calling him “cocky bastard.”

It doesn’t occur to me that this bastard happens to be a prince and I’m supposed to show him the appropriate respect.

I haven’t been calling him “Sir” like I’m supposed to. I only remembered when Albert was speaking to him.

Has he noticed?

“What’s wrong?” James asks.

He’s wearing a pair of khakis this morning, as well as a blue button-down shirt that matches the color of his eyes. Could it also be his more casual clothes that made me forget who he is?

“Uh, nothing, Sir,” I say, slipping the word into my answer as casually as I can. I sound unconvincing, even to myself.

He frowns and studies me, his gaze capturing mine, boring deep into my soul. He’s making me nervous.

I rack my brain, trying to come up with something to say. Anything.

There is something I want to ask him. He seems to be in a pretty good mood, despite my mistake. Maybe this is the right time.

“Sir, I’ve been thinking… My father must be worried. May I give him a call?” I ask.

I’ve been trying to contact him all night, but there's no phone signal anywhere in the palace. It's not like I’ve checked every single room here, but I’ve tried about fifty and I haven't gotten a single bar of signal on my phone. I wonder if there's some kind of blocker to keep this palace hidden.

“Sure,” James says. “Albert will be happy to show you where the phone is.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“No problem. The last thing I want is for the townspeople to arrange a search party to find this palace.”

That was easier than I expected. Maybe I should ask him my other question.

“When I go back home, what do I tell people about where I’ve been, Sir?”

“You can tell them anything you want, as long as you don’t compromise the location of this palace.”

“Can I…” I take a deep breath. I’ve been thinking about this all night. “Can I say that I’ve been working at the royal garden, Sir?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Prince James smirks, looking like he’s laughing at a private joke.

I pick up my cup of tea and hold it up to my mouth, covering the lower part of my face. It’s piping hot. I can see the white steam rising from the cup. I blow on the surface, acutely aware that James is watching me with a mysterious smile on his face. I tip the cup to take my first sip.

“You don’t have to call me ‘Sir’ in every sentence,” he says suddenly, “but you can’t leave it out altogether either.”

The surprise makes me tilt the cup a little too much, causing a little too much tea to spill into my mouth.

Oh, no. My tongue is burned now.

“Are you okay?” the prince asks as he gets up from his chair.

“Yeah. I mean, yes, Sir.”

“Stand up and let me take a look,” he says, standing by my chair now.

There’s something about that voice that compels me to obey. So without even putting the cup of tea back on the table, I stand up, letting the back of my knees push the wrought-iron garden chair back.

“Open your mouth,” he says, “and stick out your tongue.”

I do as he says.

He holds my chin with his fingers and makes me face him. His touch is light, but it reminds me of how much I want him to take control of my body.

“Your tongue is burned,” he says. “You should be more careful.”

My heart beats as loud as African drums. Everything may seem serene on the surface, but there’s a war waging in my chest. I want to surrender to him…

But I’m better than this—stronger. I still remember what he said last night about taking my virginity. I can’t believe he had the nerve to say something like that.

He may be a prince, but I can’t give in to him and prove him right. His arrogance irritates me.

The sound of some kind of liquid spilling onto the grass interrupts my thought.

I’ve spilled some of the tea in my cup.

“Now look what you’ve done,” James says. His blue eyes have darkened. Something dangerous is lurking in their depths. Something that’s hungry for me.

“Sorry, Sir,” I say as I bend down to put the cup on the table.

“Stop,” he says with authority. “Keep holding that cup.”

As if my body is moving on its own, I straighten my back with the cup still in my hand.

Why can’t I say no to him? It’s like his words bypass my normal human brain and speak directly to my lizard brain, forcing me to be a slave to my own instincts.

“Good girl,” Prince James says with a satisfied smile.

Then, he leans in.

Again, without even thinking, I close my eyes.

His hand on my chin move to the back of my head. He pulls me closer and his lips land on mine. Softly. Gently. Like a feather.

Even though I know it’s coming, the kiss takes me by surprise. I thought he’d be more forceful.

I don’t know if I’m pleasantly surprised or disappointed.

This is nice, but I want more. I need more.

Then, the prince pulls away.

He leans his forehead against mine. I can still feel his breath on my skin. And I can still taste those lips…

I tilt my head up, my lips searching for his. He’s so close, and I need to close this small distance between us.

Instead of letting me kiss him, the prince takes a step back and stares at me, his gaze roaming all over my body.

The dangerous glint in his eyes only makes me curious. I want to know what he wants to do to me. I want him to unleash that desire on my body.

“Keep that cup balanced,” he says in a low, demanding tone as he walks around me and stops right behind me.

I stay still as a statue.

What am I doing?

What is the point of holding up this cup?

Then I feel his hot breath on the back of my neck, and I forget all my rebellious thoughts.

I realize I don’t have to follow James’ orders, but I can’t help it. For some reason, I’m not able to resist his demands—even the stupid ones.

Because when he’s around, he overwhelms my senses so much that there’s no space in my brain for high-level thinking. I can only let my body run on autopilot.

I close my eyes when his arms wrap around my waist. His body feels warm and solid. I lean back against his hard, broad chest.

Something warm and wet lands on my feet.

“You spilled again,” the prince says. With his neck so close to me, I can feel the vibrations of his vocal cords.

I stand up straight and look down, only to see that he’s right; I’ve spilled a little more tea on the grass. The gladiator sandals that I found in the wardrobe are wet. Good thing they aren’t mine, I guess.

But I don’t really care about the sandals. All that matters is these strong, powerful arms wrapping around my body.

The prince has rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and I can see the veins running up and down his forearms. Every time those arms move, the muscles beneath his skin ripple.

“Keep those hands steady now,” the prince says darkly as he moves my hair over my shoulder, out of the way. Then, his lips make contact with my neck, sending electricity crackling within me.

As my breathing grows heavy, I struggle to keep the cup balanced. I want to let it fall and focus on the prince’s lips and tongue, his rough stubble grazing against my skin.

But I know he’ll stop if I just put the cup down on the table. And I don’t want him to stop.

So, even as my senses are claimed by the sinful sensations the prince is causing, I dedicate what little brain power I have to keeping the cup balanced.

It gets harder and harder.

The prince’s hands are starting to roam. He grabs my waist and hips. His fingers trace my curves. Then, possessively, he grabs my breasts as he licks and bites my neck.

I part my lips and a small moan escape. My cheeks heat up—usually, I’d blame it on embarrassment, but right now that would be hypocritical.

As a light breeze cools my skin, I remember we’re outside. I know we’re surrounded by tall hedges, but anyone standing in the right place can see us right now.

Should I tell him to stop?

I should, shouldn’t I?

Otherwise I’d just be confirming his belief that I’ll be begging him to take my virginity before the month is up. This royal asshole doesn’t need yet another reason to be cocky.

But his big hand is on my thigh right now. I can feel the heat of his lust over the flimsy fabric of this dress I’m wearing, and the excruciatingly slow rate at which his hand is creeping up my thigh.

Suddenly, he flips the hem of my dress. I gasp when his fingers touch my thigh, making me realize I’ve been holding my breath. The prince runs his hand up my inner thigh until he reaches the top.

He gently rubs his fingers over my panties, feeling and exploring the outer shape of my pussy. I have to bite my lower lip to stop myself from screaming. This feels wicked, frustrating, sinful, and dirty. And I’ve never felt more alive.

The prince’s breath feels hot on my neck, and it’s all I can hear. I’m sure there are leaves rustling in this big garden, maybe even animals calling… but none of those other sounds matter.

I freeze in place. My body is losing strength and going limp, yet some of my other muscles have tensed up. It feels like I’m keeping precarious balance between all the different parts of my body, and that’s hard enough to do without also holding this damn teacup in my hand.

“Somebody’s getting wet,” James whispers in my ear. His breath tickles, and it makes me squirm.

A moan escapes my lips when my own movement makes the prince’s fingers rub harder against my pussy.

The prince chuckles. “I bet that felt good. You can move your hips if you want to. I’ll allow it.”

Allow it?

He may be a prince, and I may be his prisoner. But he doesn’t own me.

Really, I’m outraged…

But my outrage can wait.

Everything can wait.

Because Prince James is slipping his hand into my panties, where no man has ever touched me. And it feels so good.

The prince runs his fingers along my lower lips, sliding back and forth, aided by my wetness. My mouth hangs open, and my breath grows ragged.

He presses one digit at my opening and pushes in. Now he’s literally got me wrapped around his finger. His arm across my waist and his finger in my pussy keeps me in place. There’s no place for me to go, and there’s no space for me to move.

This feels dangerous. Taboo.

I can feel the sun and the breeze on my skin.

I’m not supposed to do this. I shouldn’t do this here. And especially not with him.

But even though those thoughts try to tell me to stop, they remain in the back of my mind. Meanwhile, my animal instincts have taken over, and they’re screaming at me to submit.

I’m in the hands of a strong, powerful man, who has also made me soak my panties with just his commanding voice. In his presence, I can’t help but want to surrender, to give in to his demands, to let him use my body for his pleasure.

And I can tell he’s pleased right now. Because even though I’ve never been with a man, I know the thing poking against my butt right now isn’t a roll of quarters.

For starters, it wasn’t there when James first started holding me from behind. It’s also way thicker than a roll of quarters would be. And it’s hot.

I can’t help but imagine the prince’s cock at my opening right now instead of his finger. The thought excites me and scares me at the same time.

I almost whimper when the prince pulls his digit out of me and takes his hand out of my panties. I bite my lower lip to stop myself, which hurts a little–but that’s exactly what I need.

Is it over?

Did I do something wrong?

“Open your mouth,” the prince orders, in the kind of voice that doesn’t take no for an answer.

Without even thinking, I part my lips for him.

“Suck on my finger,” he says as he brings his hand up, his middle finger coated with my desire.

I’ve tasted myself before, just to find out what it’s like. But this is different. This is not just about the act of tasting my wetness. It’s more than that.

I don’t mind the taste of myself. But it’s also not something I do for my own pleasure when I’m alone in the dark. So if I do this, I’ll be doing it for James.

The thought should offend me, but as the prince puts his middle finger in front of my mouth, I lean forward and wrap my mouth around it. I lick it up—it’s thick, musky, and a little sweet. I run my tongue all over James’ finger, making sure to clean it up.

“Good girl,” he says as he pulls his finger out of my mouth.

“Thank you, Sir.” My voice is hoarse and my breath is ragged.

“I knew you were a good girl.” The prince pauses, making my heart race as I wonder what he’s going to do next. He asks, “Now, do you want me to pick up where I left off?”

I hesitate… but only for a few seconds, until James lazily rubs my pussy over my panties. When my mouth opens, there’s only one word that comes out: “Yes.”

“Yes, Sir,” he says sternly, correcting me.

“Yes, Sir,” I repeat.

“Good.”

The prince slips his hand back into my panties. My body is trapped now. His chest is behind me, his arm is wrapped around me, his hard cock is pressing against my ass, and his fingers are playing with my pussy lips. I’m surrounded by him.

True to his words, he glides his fingers over my wet folds. My breathing grows heavy. Then, he finds it. My pleasure button.

With the tip of a wet finger, the prince draws circles around it. Without even thinking, I push my hips forward. He’s so close to my clit, but he’s not quite touching it. It’s frustrating.

My whole body tenses up as the circles he draws get tighter and tighter. Finally, he’s rubbing my clit, and it feels better than I thought it would. It feels so different from when I do it on my own.

With my own fingers, it’s like a slow acceleration. Now, though, it’s like my engine has been hot and revved up for a while, and now suddenly the brakes are off and I’m going full speed ahead.

I hear little moans and grunts before I realize they’re coming from me. Everything has faded away until all I feel are the sensations between my legs. It feels like electricity is crackling throughout my body, jolting me awake.

It feels so close. My brain has stopped coming up with objections. Right now, I have one objective, and I’m almost there...

Without a warning, Prince James takes his hand away and lets me go. I grab onto the edge of the table and rest my palms on the surface to support my weight. My legs feel weak.

What just happened?

“I told you not to drop the cup, sweetheart,” he says.

My gaze drops down to the grass, where the cup is lying, the tea already seeping into the soil. It must’ve hit the leg of the wrought-iron chair on the way down, because there’s a little chip at the top.

Shit.

That must cost a fortune.

He’s not going to make me pay for it, is he?

Is this going to make my sentence longer?

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I say.

Slowly, I raise my gaze to meet the prince’s.

He’s watching me, waiting for a reaction. I can see the cocky anticipation in his darkened blue eyes.

He nods quietly, then he says, “We can go back to what we were doing. I can make you come and scream out my name. All you have to do is beg for it.”

“No,” I answer resolutely. He may have had me in a trance before, but now the spell is broken, and I can think clearly again.

“Very well,” he says as he bends down to pick up the chipped cup. But instead of putting it back on the table, he curls a finger around the handle and walks away toward the entrance into the palace.

I watch his broad back shrink as he gets further away, my mouth agape.

He’s just going to leave me here, just like this, after what’s just happened?

The prince suddenly stops and turns around. “Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me to just leave.”

Did he just read my mind?

Is he coming back now?

Is he going to touch me again?

Do I want him to?

A million different scenarios play out in my mind in this moment that stretches forever.

But the prince just smirks and says, “I almost forgot to tell you to enjoy your breakfast,” before he turns around again and really leaves.