Fuck. I need to get out of here before he realizes…
Too late. His eyes snap open and he stares at me. I stare at him. He looks like he wants to kill me. I throw my hands up in a gesture of innocence. “I signed an NDA!”
He groans and cum spurts out of his cock, all over his hand. I stare at it, my mouth watering with the desire to swoop down and lick it up.
“I would like for you to leave now,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” I turn to exit the bathroom, but stop in the doorway to say, “By the way, that was totally fucking hot.’
“Leave.”
I race out of the king’s office like the hounds of hell are after me, shaking my head at Boyd’s raised eyebrows. “He’s busy, I’ll come back later.”
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. I feel like I’ve just walked in on the Queen of England in the nude. Except this was far more visually appealing. Far, far more.
If you thought walking in on the king while he was fucking himself on a suction cup dildo would somehow hinder my effort to endear myself to him, you would of course be absolutely right. By some miracle I manage not to get fired, but I’m pretty sure that’s only because King Lukas has been avoiding me like the plague. But that is really the least of my problems, because if I was lusting after him before, it is nothing compared to the way my mind—and dick—are reacting now. No surprises for guessing what’s shot straight to the top of my spank bank rotation; all I can think about is what it would be like to have him ride my cock like that. Fucking hell…
But I need to get a grip. Just because he likes anal stuff, it doesn’t make him gay. There are a ton of straight guys who enjoy anal penetration and, as far as I’m concerned, why shouldn’t they? And even if he is into guys, that doesn’t automatically mean he’s going to be into me. This isn’t a fucking fairytale.
6
LUKAS
For a week I’ve managed to avoid the American. In fact, I’ve made something of an art form out of avoiding him. If it were an Olympic sport, I’d win the gold, and by a long stretch. It’s childish, I know. Certainly not behavior befitting a king. But I know if I see him, if I’m forced to look into his eyes, I’ll be taken back to that moment, to the way he stared at me with such unguarded desire and how, for the briefest of moments, I considered begging him to get to his knees and finish me off.
I should be livid at him for invading my privacy like that, but honestly I’m more ashamed with myself. It was the middle of the day and I was supposed to be working; I should have had more control over myself. Lord knows I’ve had plenty of practice.
But I’d overheard some gossip in the hallway outside my office that morning, one of the administrative staff musing that it was a shame the new tutor was gay because she’d wanted to ask him out. And from that moment it had been impossible to concentrate on anything. All I could think about was taking him inside me. Or getting inside him.
After a week of berating myself for my lack of control, I’m relieved to have a distraction in the form of my brother’s return to the palace.
“I thought you weren’t returning until next week,” I say as Aleksandr and I climb the main stairs and head down the gallery toward the residential suites.
“There are only so many charity events one can attend, brother.” His exhausted tone makes it sound as though he’s spent the past six months doing some kind of hard labor rather than flitting around Europe attending fancy events.
“I see.”
Alik is fifteen years younger than me and my polar opposite, no doubt owing to the drastic differences in how we were raised. I was brought up with a strict, almost militaristic attitude where nothing ever seemed good enough for my father. Aleksandr, on the other hand—the change of life baby who’d come so long after my parents had stopped hoping for another child—was doted on and spoiled. But I’ve never resented him for it. In fact, I was glad he was saved from the experiences I’d had. And when our father died fourteen years ago, only six months after our mother, I made sure Alik’s childhood continued to be just that—a childhood.
“Who is that?” Alik asks, his voice full of desperate curiosity.
I turn my gaze in the direction he’s staring and see the American passing through one of the connecting hallways. My jaw tenses and dread fills me as I desperately try to prevent my cheeks from coloring at the memory of the other day.
“He’s the children’s tutor,” I say in answer to my brother’s question. “From America.”
“Shame.” Alik gives a mournful shake of his head.
“What is?”
He shrugs. “A guy as hot as that—of course he’s bound to be straight.”
“He’s not. According to the gossip, at least.” And if the way he was practically drooling while staring at my cock the other day is any indication.
Alik’s mouth curves into a sly grin and I’m immediately regretful about revealing the American’s orientation. But I suppose he would have found out for himself sooner or later anyway, so hiding it would have merely delayed the inevitable.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn, horrified to hear the words leave my mouth in an angry growl.
My brother’s brows shoot up. “Why not?”
“Because he’s an employee. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
He scoffs. “You think I haven’t fucked around with employees before?”
“And when has it ever worked out well?”
He lets out a resigned huff. “I suppose you have a fair
