Page 23 of Her Royal Daddy
He cleared his throat, shifting his weight to his other foot, rolling his neck in annoyance so strikingly obvious that every knot in my already tangling stomach tightened all over again. It was ridiculous just how badly he made me want to call him Daddy just then.
“I-I mean it,” I announced, squaring my shoulders. “This is my livelihood. I’m not going to lose it for a... a... a fling. If we get found out, you’re still the prince, but I’ll just be the slutty reporter who used to work at the castle.”
His eyes slanted and his expression darkened in a way that had my butt cheeks clenching, but this was non-negotiable and I could not afford to back down.
Eventually, he tipped his head in a very reluctant nod. “Fine. For now, while you’re settling in to your job, I suppose we can be... discreet.” He said the word like anyone else might say ‘prawns.’ “We could both use some time outside the castle anyway. Acclimate to our surroundings, so to speak. Get to know the culture, explore the land, and meet the natives.”
I relaxed and even smiled a little, already thinking of all the fun places we might find for potential hook-ups. My smile lasted only until he added, “Don’t think for a second this is forever, though. The next time we have this conversation, I am not going to back down so easily.”
That was okay, I told myself as we both got dressed in heavy silence. I already knew this wasn’t going to be forever. My employment was only contracted for a year anyway. By then, the newness would have worn off and someone far more glamorous than myself would have turned Mazi’s head.
“I can’t wait,” I said, and tried to ignore how my stomach was already sinking.
A new me, a new job, and a hot new man who could melt my panties in a heartbeat, if only just for a short while—I was getting exactly what I wanted.
Wasn’t I?
Chapter Eight
Norah
Over the next week, Mazi and I explored Osei—him under the guise of getting to know his new home; me under the guise of it being my job to find things here to write about. Unfortunately, a lot of what we found to do off the palace grounds was only suitable to be published as lust letters.
We went scuba diving and I wrote a long piece afterward, which I filed on my laptop under the header ‘Tourist Attractions’ and not one sentence of which included the words, “Dear Penthouse, today I clung to the side of a boat while our guide gave us safety instructions and my Daddy dom put his fingers down the back of my bikini bottoms and up into my pussy. I couldn’t make a sound or react in any way, and he just kept rubbing and asking questions and refused to stop until I came.”
Another time we hiked up into the mountains behind the palace in search of a waterfall that someone in the village had told us could not be missed. It was beautiful. A slice of pure heaven in the form of cool, crystal-clear water in a rocky pool surrounded by lush greenery, and so remote that it took two hours to hike up to it and we never saw another soul the entire time we were there. Which was probably for the best, because... “Dear Penthouse, I barely got my shoes off before my Daddy dom picked me up and toppled with me into the watery pool. I expected someone to come upon us the entire time he stripped us both naked. But then he backed me up under the waterfall and, with my back against the rocks and rainbows dancing in the spray, he made love to me until I came. Twice. I have two marks on my back because of the rocks.”
Every weekend, the village market opened up to local crafters, hawking beautiful rugs, pottery, wood and clay sculptures, paintings that could and would have fetched fantastic prices if only I could figure out how to tap into an overseas market that would gladly buy as much as could be produced and... “Dear Penthouse, walking through a crowded market, I tried to look at some hanging rugs, but Daddy pushed me into the alley behind them. In the nook of someone’s porch, he yanked up my skirt and unzipped his pants, and with my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist, he fucked me against a rough wooden door. I got a splinter in my butt, so he bought me a frozen fruit bar.”
Followed by... “Dear Penthouse, Daddy put a piece of frozen fruit inside me. I couldn’t stop coming. I almost died.”
We took a helicopter ride on an air tour all around the island.
“Dear Penthouse, did you know if you tip helicopter pilots extremely well, they’ll pretend they don’t know you’re having sex in their backseat?”
We went surfing and swimming and seashell collecting...
