Home > Infamous Desire (Maid for the Billionaire Prince #3)(2)

Infamous Desire (Maid for the Billionaire Prince #3)(2)
Author: Artemis Hunt

I feel betrayed in the worst possible way. What have I ever done to either of them?

My knees buckle and Alex catches me.

“Here, Liz, sit down.”

I hear the scrape of a parlor chair being pulled and my bu**ocks are suddenly slammed upon its soft padded seat. My head still whirls.

“Don’t mind them, OK?” he says urgently. “Don’t mind them.”

Easy for you to say. You’re not branded the slut for sleeping around. You’re a prince. It just makes you cool.

It’s different for girls.

Someone shoves a glass of water into my hand.

“Drink, Liz,” Alex says. I can feel his warmth beside me.

Jasper was right. The best thing I could have done was go home before any of the headlines hit and forget any of it ever happened.

But I love love love Alex fiercely. With my entire body and soul.

“What do you suggest, Madame Fournier?” I hear Alex say. His voice is sober, all businesslike.

“That’s what I’m here for as the top Public Relations consultant in this country. We need to rebrand the two of you to become Moldavia’s biggest export.”

Chapter Two

I cry my heart out that night. I cry huge tears that roll down from my cheeks to my pillow. I cry for all the innocence I have lost and all the friends I thought I had.

Alex is beside me in bed, naked. Normally, this would engender that fluttery, hollowing feeling down there, between my legs, but tonight, I am just too upset. I have turned away from him because I don’t want him to see my puffy red face.

“Why don’t you give them both a call?” he murmurs, lifting a strand of my hair.

I shake my head miserably. I don’t think I can talk to or face either one of them again. What’s worse is that deep down inside of me, I believe they are capable of doing it. It may not even be for vindictive or vicious reasons, but simply a chance to bask in the spotlight. Deanna always had that ‘I want all the attention’ streak in her, and besides, I really did leave her in a co-rental payment lurch when I upped and ran away with Alex.

As for Cassandra, she always did like gossiping about other people, and I don’t mean that in the best of ways.

“How’s your father?” I ask.

He sighs. “He’s stabilized somewhat, but he’s still in intensive care. Apparently three quarters of his heart muscle has been destroyed and they had to put in a pacemaker just to keep his heart beating.”

Oh my God. That’s awful. Here I am, sunk in my own petty problems and here is Alex, having a very real problem of his own.

I turn my tear-sloshed face to him.

“Oh Alex, I’m so sorry.”

I open my arms to him and he comes gladly to them. We wrap ourselves in a fierce horizontal hug –full-bodied, skin to skin at every contact point, body heat permeating our every fiber. A pang of love fleets through my chest.

Oh, how I love this man. I love him so so so much that it actually physically pains me.

“I love you,” he whispers against my neck.

“I love you too.”

“How can I cheer you up?”

“I’ll get over it soon. Don’t worry about me.”

He laughs. “You’re supposed to say ‘Let me count the ways’.”

I smile despite my tears. My nose is kind of runny, and I don’t feel very attractive. But Alex doesn’t seem to mind as he turns my face towards his with his crooked finger on my chin, and bends his head down to kiss me.

We kiss. Oh, how we kiss. There’s a groundswell of emotion in that kiss – the pouring of love, pain, guilt, and all the other emotions that we harbor within ourselves but cannot articulate. But we have each other, and we are the stronger and better for it, like the augmented effect of two becoming one and multiplying to ten.

He’s hard again. I can feel his c**k pressing against my thigh.

“You OK for sex?” he murmurs.

I’m not sure, actually. I’m still upset, but I’m certainly up for a little hold-me-tightly and tender loving. I don’t know how to say ‘no’ to Alex, especially when he’s always so rock hard and ready. Besides, his face is so beautiful in the lamplight, with multifaceted rainbow reflections in his blue-green eyes and his full, lush lips half parted in a smile.

We’re in my guest room, as always, because he doesn’t like us to make love in the Royal Wing where Claire and his mother reside.

He senses my consternation.

“What do you say I give you a little oral loving instead?” he suggests.

I would never say no to that.

I smile despite my tears.

He tosses off the sheets. I am wearing a silk negligee, courtesy of my shopping trip the other day. It’s mauve, lacy and very sheer. I am also wearing matching silk panties.

He lifts my negligee and peruses my panties.

“Nice.” He grins.

“Thank you for the present,” I say softly.

“Anytime. Though I’d rather they be crotchless.”

The very image of that sends a delicious shudder down my spine.

He’s still grinning as he pulls off my panties and slides them off my legs. My dark pubic patch is revealed. His scorching gaze fixes upon it as he takes his languorous time to part my thighs. I blush. I’m still not used to his intense, sexual scrutiny, no matter how many times he does it.

He lowers his head between my thighs. With the index finger and thumb of his left hand, he peels open both my labia so that my quivering clit is exposed to him and the elements.

“You ready?” he purrs.

I shake my head.

“Tough luck, because I’m ready.

His tongue flickers out and slathers the length of my clit.

Ooooooooo.

I arch my back despite myself. I feel like gripping something in my fists and bunching it.

He does it again and again – a slow trail of his tongue tip starting from the very top of my clit hood down its trembling body, and further down to where it meets my orifice. He is going for sensuousness rather than speed, taking his leisurely time.

Down, lift his tongue up, then starting from the top and down again. Repeat. Soft sensuous strokes. Each sending prickles of sensation throughout my pu**y. Each leaving me wanting more.

He varies his movements. Single straight flicks merge with wavy lines, and then progress to rotational curls. His tongue dips within my furrows, which are opened like a Russian box of secrets. My fingers grab the edges of my pillow and then clamber down to grasp his long, tangled hair.

“Ohhhhh,” I moan.

My pu**y begins to leak despite my earlier reservations that I would not get aroused after being so distressed.

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