Page 14 of A Wise Prince

I hear a groan escape her lips and my cock twitches in response. Whoa, boy! But damn, what I wouldn’t give to hear that sound escape her lips while I’m buried deep inside her pussy.

My smirk grows as her arms move up and cover her face.

“Come on, my little patriot, breakfast is on its way.”

“Five more minutes,” she moans as she rolls and buries her head in my pillows.

I slap her ass and she jumps up and glares at me.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” she growls. I like this side of her, she has spirit and spirited women are always the best in bed.

“Because it’s time to get that lazy, American ass out of my bed.”

She gets on her knees and puts her hands on her hips, and it reminds me a bit of Anna. “First of all, Mister Royal Fancypants, I am not lazy. Second, what kind of backward gentleman are you, anyhow? Why am I in your bed? And why the fuck did you and Terrance let me drink so much yesterday? I feel awful!” Just as she says this, she covers her mouth and I hand her the trash bin that I had set out the night before. I do the gentleman thing by holding her hair back while she vomits. That’s right, my little Sleeping Beauty, I am a gentleman.

When she finishes, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She looks pale.

“Here,” I say as I hand her water. She takes a few sips. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, and I know it must sting her pride a bit to say that.

“No worries. I had a feeling you wouldn’t feel well. And for the record, we did try to stop you, but you, and I quote, ‘wanted to do whatever the fuck you wanted to do so we better step off or you would kick our asses,’” I say with a smirk.

She covers her face with her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”

I pat her shoulder. “Trust me, when it comes to being a bad drunk, you have nothing on me, sweetheart. I rule that category. I am the king of it.”

She gives me a small smile. A knock on my door tells me that breakfast has arrived. I glance back at her and her face pales, I’m not sure if it’s another bout of nausea or if she’s scared she’ll be caught in my bed.

“Why don’t you go clean up? The bathroom is through there,” I say to her, pointing toward it.

She nods and scurries off as I call for my breakfast to be brought in…correction, our breakfast. I have two staff members assigned to my apartment, Harriet, who is about seventy and doesn’t take my shit, and Lacey, who is the exact opposite of Harriet in every way, shape, and form.

It’s Lacey at the door. She does her timid curtsy and sets my breakfast tray on my table.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” she says quietly, her head bowed. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No, that’ll be all, Lacey. Thank you,” I say politely as she scampers toward the door. I shake my head. I wasn’t sure Lacey could cut it around here. She had come recommended by the butler school. Yes, they have schools to train people on how to provide service to royalty and the rich and famous. Harriet demanded I hire her and threatened to quit. And that told me everything I needed to know about Lacey. If you passed Harriet’s test, then you are a damn fine servant. Secretly, I think Harriet just wants to train her replacement so she can retire knowing that someone will be able to attend to me.

I pull up the silver platter lid. There’s a large assortment of bagels, toast, croissants, and fruit. Two glasses of orange juice and two teacups grace the tray. There’s a newspaper laid out on the table. I flip it open and see a photo of Conrad Johansen, a prick of a politician who hates the monarchy. I toss it aside, not wanting to know what lies he’s currently spreading.

I walk toward my bathroom and rap on the door.

“Do you like tea?” I ask Kate.

“Uhhh, yeah, why?”

I pour her a cup and knock on the door again. “I have some for you. It might help settle your stomach.”

The door creeps open, and there stands Kate, sexy as motherfucking hell, wrapped in a towel with long wet hair.

She eyes the cup. “Thank you,” she says as she accepts it. “I…ugh, I’m really sorry.” That delicious pink hue creeps up her face again. I notice that she has freckles on her shoulders where she clearly has gotten some sun. I itch to run my hands through her wavy hair.

“I also got you some fresh clothes,” I add as I go to the pile of clothing stolen from my sister’s wardrobe earlier. It pays to be friendly with all the house staff, including those who work for my siblings. “Sorry, no underwear, but I could send for that if you like?”

That pink hue turns red. “Oh…uh…no, th-that’s OK. I…it’s fine,” she stammers quickly setting down the cup of tea and grabbing the clothes from my hand. I can’t help the grin that forms on my face. It’s my nature. I’m the predator, and she is now my prey.

“Thanks,” she squeaks and shuts the door.

Kathryn

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