Page 33 of His Princess Brat
Chapter Ten
Pita
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My pussy was on fire and not in a good way. I would by far rather be bathing in a tub full of ice cubes right now than on my way to enjoy a dinner date with Azid. That’s how miserable I was.
What in the ever-loving fuck was the point of waxing your lady bits anyway? No way was Azid going to be impressed by the red hot bumpy burning disaster that was my coochy. Nor was he going to be turned on, especially since I wasn’t about to let him anywhere near it. I could just imagine trying to have that conversation. I was so bowlegged right now, I looked like an old-time saloon cowboy walking out to meet his fate in an old-fashioned showdown—only instead of jeans and chaps, I was dressed in a bright red sarong that absolutely matched the wounded red of my nethers. My only bet was to get inside Azid’s room before anyone saw me, and sit down before Azid noticed something was off in my stance.
Of course, sitting wasn’t going to be any more comfortable for me than walking was. Frankly, the only way I could find even a modicum of relief right now was by sitting in a wholly unladylike spread-eagle fashion so that nothing down there touched. That wasn’t happening. Not in this dress.
Halfway between my room and his and already beginning to perspire, I was seriously considering canceling the date and running (well, limping) back to my room to drown my sorrows in an order of tea and Malva pudding. Had Azid been any other man, I would have, but he wasn’t. He was perfect, the man who had captured my heart and who I’d waxed myself into misery for. For him, I would suffer.
It took me forever to hobble the short distance to his room, but once I was there, there was nothing to do but knock, so that was what I did.
Azid answered, looking as fine as ever, but dressed casually. Actually, casually was an understatement. Casual dress was Azid almost every day. This, though, was Azid in his underwear. Literally. He was wearing loose-fitting black boxer shorts and a worn-out white t-shirt.
I had a moment of panic when I saw him. Somehow I must have misunderstood the invitation.
“I... uh... I’m sorry,” I stammered. “Am I too early? I don’t mind waiting in the hall for you to get dressed.”
His welcoming smile only broadened. “I’m pretty sure we’re past the waiting in the hall point of things, Princess. You’ve already seen the family jewels.”
True. I had.
Unable to argue, I entered his suite. Struggling with each painful step to walk as normal as possible, I went to the zebra print couch. “I’ll wait here for you to get some clothing on,” I offered, easing myself down to sit. Oh, that hurt. But if I was expecting Azid to step into the bedroom and step out having added at least a pair of jeans to his current attire, he took me completely by surprise.
Plopping down to sit on the couch next to me, he draped his arm around my shoulders. “I am dressed. The whole point of skipping out on another obnoxious dinner party was to be comfortable. Frankly, I’m kind of disappointed you didn’t dress more casually. I was hoping I’d get to finally see you let your hair down so to speak.”
“I...” I flushed at the thought of all the effort I had gone through for the night. “This is my casual dress. I don’t own anything like...” I waved my hand gesturing toward his relaxed state of dress, “...that.”
“Oh, Princess, Princess. Let me help you out with that.”
His hand rested at the pins holding together my up-do, and I cringed. In Bahar, even spending most of the time at the stables, my hair was always up. It wasn’t considered proper to see people otherwise, and at a palace, there were always people present.
Before I could stop him, Azid had released the pins, and his fingers were working their way through the twists of my hairdo, separating the braids from each other until they fell freely, the tips of them brushing my tailbone. I felt naked and exposed with them down like this. I also felt sexy. No one besides a few beloved servants and my own mother had ever seen me like this.
Pulling back, Azid smiled. “Stunning,” he declared. “With your hair up, you are a princess, but with it down, you’re a true African queen.”
I basked in his praise, momentarily forgetting all about the fire wreaking havoc on my nether regions as he leaned in for a kiss.
Our lips brushed together, a soft but brief caress that instantly made me feel bereft when he pulled away again.
“Wait here,” he said. “Let’s see what we can do about getting you into something that actually is comfortable.”
Offering no explanation, he disappeared toward the bedroom, and came back a minute later holding a t-shirt that looked too small for his muscular figure and a pair of odd-looking pants of a light gray, almost fuzzy material. The fabric was gathered at the ankles and had a pull string at the waist, which frankly was the only way anything of his would even stay on me.
“Here, put these on,” Azid commanded, dropping them into my lap.
I wasn’t sure I could. Being naked in front of Azid during sex was one thing, but allowing him to see me with my hair down, wearing clothing so improper and unfitting of a princess seemed wrong. It also seemed like it would send our relationship in the opposite trajectory of where I wanted it to go. A man wouldn’t be interested in a woman who let herself look sloppy in front of him, would he?
If I could get to the bathroom, I could look the answer up on my phone, but walking even that short of a distance was going to be hell itself. God, I had to stand up first.
“Pita,” Azid said, his tone dipping low until it was almost like a warning. Shaken from my thoughts, I stared at him as he said the one thing certain to set my nerves all racing while at the same time dropping me unceremoniously into a state of absolute obedience. “Listen to Daddy.”
Gah. What was it about that soft command, not to mention that specific word, that could so completely turn me into a pile of melty subservient mush? I wanted to please him so much that even before I could stop myself, I was ditching my sarong to pull the t-shirt over my head. It was soft and gray, with the silhouette of a stripper pole and the words: ‘Putting Daddy through college one bill at a time; Ezra’s House of Sin.’
His gaze heating, Azid looked me over. “Now the pants.”
