Waking His Princess: A Sleeping Beauty Romance (Filthy Fairy Tales Book 2) Read online

  I lead her back to the dance floor, her arm in mine. I force myself not to peek down her dress, even though it’s perfectly demure and I can hardly even see the swell of her breasts from this angle.

  Normally, it’s not what I go for. Normally, I’d already be leaving the ball with Danica VanOwen, the woman I just danced with. Danica’s my type, not Aurora; I go for women with in-your-face-tits, the ones who whisper to you during a dance that they’re not wearing panties and they’ll prove it if you want.

  But for some reason, Danica left me cold. Even when she practically tried to fuck me through my pants at the end of the dance, all I could think about was Aurora and how I wished it was her.

  Putting her legs around me. Alone, in my room, not here in front of everyone.

  “Are you having a nice time at the ball?” Aurora asks as we step onto the dance floor.

  “Positively scintillating,” I say. “And you? Seems you’ve got quite an interest in older gentlemen.”

  Aurora scrunches her nose at me as we take up our positions, one hand curled around her back and the other in hers.

  “You know how these things are,” she says. “I can’t turn down a dance. That would be frightfully rude.”

  “So that’s why you’re dancing with a lout like me,” I tease as the music starts.

  We whirl together, perfectly in time. Just watching her body move underneath her dress, I can’t help but feel the blood start flowing straight for my dick.

  Think about the best ways to conserve water, I tell myself. Anything but this.

  Ways to conserve water, like showering together?

  The next thought is a fucking disaster, of course: Aurora, naked, water running down her perfect, tight body as she leans over, both hands against the tile of the shower, her legs parting as she glances over her shoulder...

  “Declan, you’re the one person I could turn down and get away with it,” she says. “If you hear a popping sound while we’re out here, that’s just the top of my father’s head blowing off.”

  I sneak a glance over at King Maxwell. Sure enough, he’s glaring at me.

  “Well, that’s why you’ve never had an orgasm,” I say, keeping my voice low.

  Aurora just gasps, her face flushing bright pink again when I look down. She looks scandalized.

  But then she glances quickly over at her father, her face changing. The blush fades, and she looks up at me, something new and decidedly naughty in her eyes.

  “I haven’t got a chastity belt, if that’s what you’re getting at,” she says.

  “The thought hadn’t occurred to me, but I’m glad to hear it,” I say. “Those can’t be pleasant.”

  “I don’t think they really exist anymore.”

  “I just meant that it must be nearly impossible to get off, if every time you try to fantasize about someone else your father’s glare simply pops into your head,” I tell her. “That’s one hell of a wet blanket.”

  “It sure doesn’t help,” she murmurs, then looks up at me. “So everyone in the whole studio heard that, huh?”

  I just nod, whirling her around again. She sighs.

  “Grayson swore up and down that it wasn’t that loud, but I was pretty sure he was just trying to make me feel better,” she says, sounding slightly dejected.

  “I think he was,” I say. “Though look on the bright side. I’m sure you’ve already rejected a dozen offers from men who’d be happy to introduce you to the fine art of orgasming.”

  Now she frowns, twirling, then looking up at me.

  “And why would you say that?”

  I pause, stepping and turning.

  Because I can’t imagine not wanting to make you come, I think.

  Because since the moment you said that, I haven’t been able to think about anything else.

  “It seems like the natural next step,” I finally offer. “Pretty girl says the word orgasm, men everywhere rush to attention.”

  Aurora just watches me, the barest hint of a smile around her eyes, and I realize I’ve just shown my entire hand.

  She knows. I’ve got a feeling she doesn’t know the whole story, but now she knows exactly what I think. She knows that the second she said that, my very first thought was I’d fucking love to make you come.

  May as well give into it.

  The dance is almost over, but as we turn another corner I pull her body against mine a little too hard, and for a few moments, she’s pressed against me. I can feel her chest heaving under her bodice, and even more, the thick rod of my hard cock is pressed tightly against her belly.

  Aurora gasps. She looks up at me, her long eyelashes in the way, and I just smirk at her.

  “Then let me be the first to offer, Princess,” I murmur.

  In another second the dance goes on, and we separate. She pulls away, and she looks shocked, but not that shocked. We twirl a few more times, and then the music dies down, the dance ending.

  Despite myself, I glance over at the edge of the dance floor, where I’m met with a double-barreled glare, from both King Maxwell and, standing a few feet away, Prince Grayson. They must have seen me pull Aurora in, and I’m sure they knew exactly what I was doing.

  There’s no way they heard me, at least.

  “Thank you for the dance, Princess,” I say to Aurora, holding one of her hands and bowing politely.

  She levels her gaze right at me, and if she was shocked before, she’s gotten her composure back completely by now.

  “It was lovely,” she says.

  I’ve still got one of her hands in mine, and even though it’s not technically protocol, and even though her father and brother are both watching, I bend down and kiss it.

  For one second too long. I squeeze just a little harder than necessary, and when I look up, I know she understood my message.

  Chapter Seven

  Aurora

  Declan just offered to have sex with me.

  No. That’s not the word. Offer isn’t the word; offer is what you do when you’re giving slices of cake away.

  Declan just propositioned me. He just grabbed me, mid-dance, and pressed his dick against me, like a cucumber in his pants.

  Walking off the dance floor, my mind’s a flurry, even if I’m keeping cool on the outside.

  Are dicks supposed to be that size? Maybe it really was a cucumber.

  Except Declan has a reputation, and I’ve got a feeling that the dick was real. And hard.

  Very hard.

  I try to tell myself that it was a leftover erection from Slutty McBoobsalot, but that’s not convincing, either. For one thing, don’t erections fade?

  And two, he definitely said he wanted to have sex with me. Or at least make me come, which would certainly involve some degree of sex-type touching.

  I’m not just blushing, my whole body is flushed. I try to pretend that it’s just from the exertion of dancing, but it’s definitely from Declan. Heat’s flooding my body, that same tingle from before back full-force, a hot river running straight through my core.

  I head to the bar, grab another glass of champagne. I down it in one gulp, then grab another, trying to think about anything but Declan saying he could make me come.

  Anything but the huge, thick rod he pressed against me.

  I’m feeling things I’ve never felt before. Maybe this is what I was missing — I’ve never gotten off because I’ve never had the right thing to think about. I’ve kissed boys before, yeah, but I haven’t even kissed Declan and my whole body is reacting like crazy.

  My mother waves at me, trying to call me over to her, but I wave back like I don’t know what she wants. I can’t talk to her now, not like this.

  Instead I make my way to the huge doors to the outside and push one open, greeted by the cool night air. I take a deep breath, suddenly regretting those two glasses of champagne I just downed.

  There’s no way Declan meant it like that. He’s my older brother’s best friend, and I’m the irritating kid sister who always tried
to tag along. Yeah, I haven’t seen him for a while since I was off at boarding school, but still.

  He can’t possibly look at me and think sexy thoughts. I can’t quite believe it.

  Cucumber, I remind myself, and it’s a very good argument that I should believe it.

  For all I know, he really could have a large squash down his pants. I’ve never seen a penis in real life before, I’ve never touched one, and I’ve very certainly never had one that hard or that big pressed against me during a dance.

  Why not let him try?

  I gasp out loud at just the thought, then shake my head and move away from the doors, as if someone can hear what I’m thinking.

  Of course I can’t let Declan try.

  For one thing, Grayson would kill him if we got caught.

  For another thing, I’m a princess, which means that I’m supposed to be swiping my v-card only upon marriage, and I’ve been raised that way my entire life.

  And for a last thing, Declan’s a cad. I know the broad outlines of what my brother’s gotten up to, and I know that Declan has been there every step of the way. The two of them have a certain reputation for being ladies’ men, and I think every single person I know would murder me if I were caught with him.

  I sit on a stone bench and take another deep breath, champagne bubbles dancing through my brain.

  That was three good reasons, I think.

  Too bad they don’t matter.

  “Crap,” I mutter out loud, to myself, in the cool night.

  Because I’m right: the only thing that actually matters is whether or not I want to get down with Declan, and right now — champagne drunk and still reeling from the cucumber — I kind of do.

  Grayson will kill him? Don’t get caught.

  I’m supposed to be a virgin? Don’t get caught. Everyone knows that no one, not even my future husband, can actually tell. I’ve been riding horses almost since I can walk.

  And Declan’s a ladykiller?

  That’s the only one that really gives me pause, because I’m not exactly sure how I feel about it. Sure, on the one hand, I feel bad about it, because who wants to try a piece of chewing gum that’s been chewed by a hundred other women?

  But on the other hand, Declan’s not chewing gum. He’s a person, and maybe most importantly for the task at hand, he’s a person with experience.

  A lot of it.

  I’m pacing back and forth, the night starting to feel colder, even though I’ve still got the protective layer of champagne firmly wrapped around me.

  It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. It’s just Declan, he’d say anything to get into any vagina, and he was still horny from Slutpants McBoobsalot. Why would a guy who could bang practically any porn-level woman in the kingdom be interested in some blushing virgin?

  A giggle from around the corner cuts me off, and I stop, mid-pace.

  Just then, Bianca comes walking around the stone wall, accompanied by Kieran.

  And Beckett. She was with both of them.

  “Oh, hey, Aurora,” she says, casually as you please. “Apparently when your brother was sixteen, he convinced these two suckers that he’d bought glow-in-the-dark bats from some kind of bat black market, so I was just crushing their childhood dreams.”

  “We never said that we believed him,” Kieran points out, grinning. “We just said that’s what he told us.”

  “It always sounded like bullshit,” Beckett adds.

  For a moment, I’m not sure I believe the story. I’ve heard rumors about Kieran and Beckett — sexy rumors — and Bianca does look slightly flushed.

  But then again, the bat thing does sound like something my dumb brother would have said to impress his equally dumb friends ten years ago.

  “You didn’t find them, I assume?”

  “Not even a firefly,” Beckett sighs.

  “Escort you ladies inside?” Kieran asks, holding out his arm to me.

  “Thank you,” I say, looping my hand into it. Bianca takes Beckett, and we head back into the ball.

  Chapter Eight

  Declan

  I think she ran away from me.

  Not that I can blame her. If I were a sweet, hardly-been-kissed virgin princess and my brother’s best friend said he could make me come, and then I discovered he had a huge, hard cock, I’d be a little uncertain too.

  I can be patient. Within reason, at least, but ten minutes is certainly reasonable. Let her think things over for a bit, come to terms with the fact that I’m willing to do almost anything.

  “Escort me to the dessert table, won’t you?” Guinevere de la Plata suggests, her fingers digging slightly into my arm.

  Well, it’s not precisely a suggestion. Guinevere is the kind of woman who usually gets what she wants, and it’s because not giving her what she wants is terribly unpleasant. She’s also the daughter of a high-ranking noble, a man who got rich in gold mining and currently has more money than God.

  She’s also unmarried. My father’s made noise about this match more than once before, but despite her obvious suitability — and despite her amazing tits — I’m just not terribly interested in Guinevere. At least not now.

  We wander toward the dessert table, her hand looped through my arm, and she talks the entire time. She seems to be assuming that I’m listening, so I stay mostly silent and let her assume that.

  My mind is wandering, of course. I’m thinking of what’s up Aurora’s pretty skirt. I’m wondering whether it’s a large enough skirt to hide under, whether it would somehow be possible to get my face between her legs while she was in public, maybe even seated at a banquet.

  If I could make her come in the middle of an important speech, her face flushing and her eyes going wide, the sheer beautiful torture that could be...

  “These look quite good, don’t you think?” Guinevere asks.

  “Certainly,” I answer. I have no idea what she’s talking about.

  One of the big glass doors along the far wall opens, and I turn my head like it’s been pulled by a string. Through it walks Beckett, Bianca on his arm, followed by Kieran and Aurora.

  My jealousy flares at the sight of her touching him, even innocently like that.

  I hate it. I fucking hate it, suddenly hate the thought of her feeling someone else’s arm through his sleeve, hate the thought that someone else gets to have her hang onto him.

  Even if it’s my best friend. Even if it’s obvious as day to anyone with a brain that he and Beckett have designs on sharing sweet Bianca, who seems oblivious.

  But Aurora is mine and mine alone. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.

  I don’t want anyone else’s filthy paws on her.

  “Declan,” says Guinevere in her heavy accent, holding up a small chocolate. “Try this.”

  I reach out a hand for it automatically, but she pulls it back, a teasing smile on her face.

  “It’ll taste better if you let me,” she says, and I’m suddenly reminded that this girl and probably half the girls here want something from me.

  My title. My kingdom. They want their future children to be kings, too.

  These women don’t give a damn about me.

  “I prefer my way,” I snap, and snatch it from her fingers with my own. Her face falters for a moment, but then she regains her previous smile, watches me intently.

  “You like?” she asks.

  “It’s fine,” I say, looking away.

  At last, I’m alone, back in the guest quarters of the palace. Guinevere would hardly leave my side for the rest of the night, not to mention everyone else who seemed to want my attention — old men who thought I should be introduced to their daughters, foreign dignitaries who wanted a word about this or that trade agreement.

  I don’t mind that shit, usually. I’m a prince. Boring trade agreements and tariffs and treaties are my birthright, and frankly, I’m fucking good at those things. I need to be if I’m ever going to be a good king.

  But tonight, my mind was one place and one place only:
Aurora. When I finally left the ball alone, Beckett, Kieran, and Grayson gave me a weird look, like they thought I might be sick or something.

  I can’t remember the last time I left a ball like this one alone. Hell, at the last huge event I went to, I left with three women at once.

  I throw my clothes on the bedroom floor, brush my teeth quickly, and fall into bed, though I know I won’t be able to sleep. Not if I’m still seeing Aurora’s face again and again.

  The way the shock in her eyes faded to something else when I said I’d be her first.

  God, just thinking about that has me hard, the thousand-thread-count bedsheets tenting around my thick cock. For just a moment, I think about snapping a picture of it and sending it to Aurora, seeing if I can’t get her to come over.

  She’s a princess, you horny idiot, I remind myself. Have some fucking manners.

  But then her face appears in front of me again, only this time she’s lower, her perfect pink lips at the very tip of my cock, and she looks up at me with wide blue eyes.

  I grab my cock by the base and close my eyes. Now she’s licking my shaft, a little hesitantly, before sliding her mouth over the head, her jaw widening as she takes the shaft in, bit by bit.

  I pump my shaft harder, imagining her lips further. The way it would feel if she could take all of me in her mouth, the tightness of her throat around my head.

  I stroke myself faster, feeling my balls tighten as I imagine Aurora’s lips all the way down my cock, kissing the short hairs around the base of my cock.

  But I wouldn’t come in her mouth. Fuck no. I’d pull her off, eyes watering. I’d flip her over, onto her stomach, hold her down with one hand while I slicked my fingers with her juices and circled her clit with my fingers until she gasped, her body jerking below me, coming so hard she shook.

  I’d do it again, my cock throbbing, still dripping with her saliva.

  I grunt, fist moving fast now. I can tell I’m going to come soon and I’m going to come hard, but I can’t stop.

  Now she’s coming again, gasping for air, her perfect body limp and relaxed as she looks over her shoulders, face flushed.