Royally Screwed (Royally 1)

Nicholas moves above me, inside me, deep and slow. Wringing out the pleasure from us both. My eyes close and I hold him, my arms around him, feeling the taut muscles in his back tighten with every thrust as my hands clutch his shoulder blades.

And I’m lost. Gone. Coasting in a stratosphere of searing bliss. It expands inside me, building, soaring…until I come with an opened-mouth cry. Pressing my lips against his neck, tasting him, breathing in the scent of his skin with every writhing gasp.

His thrusts quicken, becoming rougher as the intensity crests for him too. Until he pushes in deep one last time, and comes on a quiet gasp. I feel him inside me—hot and pulsing. And I clench around him so tight, wanting to keep him inside me forever.

Later, with my cheek on his warm chest and his strong arms heavy around me, I ask him, “What are we going to do?”

Nicholas kisses my forehead, holding on tighter.

“I don’t know.”

“PISS OFF, YOU BASTARD! I never liked you!”

“The best part of you leaked out of your mother to the wet spot on the bed, you tosser.”

“Sir Aloysius’s cock was the smartest thing that ever came out of your mouth!”

Welcome to Parliament. And you thought the Brits got rowdy.

Although, I admit, it’s not usually quite this bad.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill your family and I’ll eat your dog!”

Okay, then.

Normally, the Queen attends Parliament only to open and close out the year. But, given the state of Wessco’s economy, she called a special session. So both sides of the clearly drawn line could work out their differences.

It’s not going well. Mostly because there’s the royal family and the MPs who actually give a damn about the country on one side…and on the other is a great big bag of smelly dicks.

“Order!” I call out. “Ladies and gentlemen, for God’s sake—this is not a football stadium or a backstreet pub. Remember who you are. Where you are.”

In the hallowed hall where one of my ancestors, Crazy King Clifford II, once wore his crown—and nothing else. Because he was hot. We’re not supposed to talk about him.

Finally, the shouting quiets down.

And I address the head prick. “Sir Aloysius, what is your stance on the current legislation proposed?”

He sniffs. “My stance remains unchanged, Your Grace. Why should we pass these packages of laws?”

“Because it’s your job. Because the country needs this.”

“Then I suggest Her Majesty agree to our demands,” he tells me, sneering.

And suddenly the dog-eating doesn’t seem so harsh.

I stare him down, my face as cold and hard as my voice.

“That’s not how this works, Sir Aloysius. And you can take your demands and go fuck yourself with them.”

There are a few random shouts of agreement and “here, here.”

Aloysius snaps, “You are not King yet, Prince Nicholas.”

“No, I’m not.” And I look him right in his eyes. “But you should enjoy your position while you can. Because when I am, it will be my mission to make sure you lose it.”

His nostrils go wide and he swivels toward the Queen. “Does your grandson speak for the royal house, Your Majesty?”

There’s a light in my grandmother’s eyes and a smirk on her face. Though she’d probably prefer it not be over something so serious, she loves this. The struggle, the battle, the confrontation—it’s her playground.

“I would have chosen less incendiary words…but yes, Prince Nicholas expressed our thoughts quite accurately.”

See? She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself too.

The Queen stands, and all rise with her. “We are done here, for now.” She scans the room, her eyes touching the face of each Member of Parliament. “Our country is at a crossroads. Rest assured, if you cannot show that you are capable of choosing the right path, one will be chosen for you.”

Then, together, we turn and walk out the large double doors, side by side.

In the hall, walking toward the car, she speaks without looking at me. “That was not wise, Nicholas. You made an enemy today.”

“He was our enemy already. Now he just knows that we know it. I had to say something.”

She chuckles. “You’re starting to sound like your brother.”

“Maybe he actually has a point.”

Speaking of Henry, he’s doing better. It’s been a few weeks since the boat incident and he seems…purged. Calmer. He also reached out to the families of the soldiers, like Olivia suggested. Speaking and visiting with them seems to have brought him some measure of peace.

So, he’s coming with Olivia and I to the seaside. For the weekend.

I don’t mind—I mean, I’m driving in an open-topped convertible with a motorcade of security agents driving all around me, so it’s not like Olivia was going to suck me off on the way there anyway.

That being said, it’s forty minutes into the five-hour drive…and I’m starting to have second thoughts.

“Sobriety is tedious,” my brother says from the backseat. “I’m soooo booooored.”

Then he pops up, placing his forearms on our headrests and hanging his head between us. “Is this how the whole trip is going to be? You two making goo-goo eyes at each other? Do you see that tree over there, Nicholas? Drive toward it as fast as you can and put me out of my misery.”