Page 36 of The Royal's Pet: A MMF Ménage Royal Romance

Shit. I’m getting off on this. My gasp breaks the kiss. “Oh fuck!” I pull out of Rory and rip off the condom just in time to shoot all over her stomach and thighs.

Fuck is right. Not only have I lost our bet, but I’d hoped I could savor the prince’s lips a little longer. Now, the spell is broken in pearly white drops spilling down Rory’s curves.

I pant for breath. Roland smirks.

“Looks like that sweet mouth is mine.” Roland winks in that cheeky way of his. “Next time, mate.”

If he calls me mate one more time…

No. No if. I’m not letting the brat prince get away with this.

Seven years of military training make it easy to grab Roland’s arms and twist them behind his back. He lets out a surprised yelp. He wriggles, but his wrists are stuck fast in my grip. His back is to my front, and I growl in his ear, “What did I tell you about calling me mate?”

Roland chokes on a laugh. But I can hear the nervousness in his chuckle. His mouth has gotten him into trouble and, finally, he has to pay the toll. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” he complains.

When I look over his shoulder, I see Rory has gone still and wide-eyed. She’s probably trying to figure out whether we’re going to shag or kill each other.

Honestly? I’m not sure myself, until I say, “You want to suck your prince’s prick, don’t you?”

Her cheeks are flushed. She nods eagerly. “Yes.”

“On your knees, then.”

Rory lowers to her knees in front of Roland and opens her mouth, ready. Those sweet eyes will be the death of me. I adjust both of Roland’s wrists into one of my hands. With my free hand, I roll Roland’s condom off his cock. His beautiful cock. It’s hard as polished marble under my fingers, and I find it difficult not to linger there, especially when I hear him draw in a sharp breath. I flick the condom to the floor and then cup the back of Rory’s head. I guide her lips over his cock so she sucks him down.

Roland’s head falls back. He moans. “God, yes. Just like that, love…”

I bunch Rory’s ginger hair in my fist and use my grip to direct her pace. I feel her neck tense when I’ve pushed her down too far. I’m quick to learn her limits, and I find a pace suitable for the both of us. Soon, she’s sucking, slurping him like a woman starved. Little mewling noises leave her every now and then, and before I know it, I’m hard again, the stubborn organ bumping on Roland’s ass.

Roland’s eyes pinch shut, and his mouth falls open. His breath comes in short, rapid pants. I’ve seen this before in him. When he finally shuts the fuck up and gets quiet—there. He’s close. I know it. I just never thought I’d be the one to get him there.

Roland groans and shakily confirms what I already know. “I’m going to blow.”

“Beg,” I growl in the spoiled prince’s ear.

“Bugger off,” he hisses.

That won’t do. Someone has to train the brat. I tug Rory’s hair back. His angry cock pops out of her mouth and twitches in the empty air. She licks her lips.

That does it. “Please,” the prince gasps, his voice thick and strained. Goddamn. That sound sends shivers through me. I reward him. I push Rory down so she deep-throats his cock. Then I fasten my teeth on his neck and bite.

Prince Roland howls as he cums down her throat. His body jerks, muscles contracting and twitching, and he moans and lets out a string of swears as I make sure she sucks every drop from him. Not that she needs much encouraging—Rory is positively thirsty for it.

Finally, the prince goes limp in my arms and pants for breath. “Bloody hell,” he breathes.

Rory stands and kisses him. Then she leans over his shoulder and kisses me. I taste her peach lips and his sweet salt on her tongue.

For the first time that night—no, for the first time in a long time—I don’t feel anxious, pent up, or self-loathing. Instead, a bizarre, cooling peace falls between the three of us.

Just then the lights flicker on overhead. The room bursts into a bright, clean light. Like that, our dark, wicked little ménage is over. It’s back to reality for us.

Almost immediately, there’s a knock on the door. Rory’s eyes fly open wide. “Shit,” she squeals.

“Loo,” Roland whispers to her, motioning to his wash closet. She scampers out of bed, snatches up her dress, and hides in the bathroom. Meanwhile, Roland and I hastily throw on our trousers and button up our shirts. Nothing to do about Roland’s wild sex hair or the stench of sweat.

“Sir?” Tanner’s voice comes muffled through the other side of the door. My heart drops. What would he think if he saw me now? Not very knightly of you, Tolle.

Roland gives me a once-over. I nod. “Come in!” Roland shouts as he finishes up the last button on his shirt.

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