Page 48 of Brutal Prince

“Can’t!” I yell back. “He’s got the fucking bit.”

And just like that, Briar’s not in my line of sight anymore. It’s just me racing for a very high, very intimidating fence.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I hunker down, throw my arms around Prince Charming’s neck and cling to him with aching thighs as I wait for impact.

* * *

Briar

Slowingdown is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. In a second, Indi is yards away, her chestnut gelding galloping straight for the fence.

I shouldn’t have made such a pretend fuss when she’d chosen that horse. Then she wouldn’t have been so stubborn and stuck with her choice.

All because of his name?

Prince Charming is a show horse. He’s been teaching the kids at Lavish how to show jump for the past two years, if not longer.

And he’s a competitive prick. You know all that shit about short dick syndrome? Well, they cut his dick off. Imagine how that shit messes with your personality?

But if I don’t stop, if I keep pace, he’ll keep accelerating. As it is, he seems to be slowing down a little, but I can sense he has no notion of missing that jump.

It’s a fucking high jump. Not so much for Prince fucking Charming, but for a little thing like Indi, who’s never jumped before…?

Fuck this. I can’t just sit here.

“Ha!” I urge my mare into another gallop, despite her whinny of complaint. She’s one of Lavish’s best racers, but even she has her limits. She needs a cool down right now, not more galloping. But if Indi doesn’t make that jump…if she does something to unbalance Prince Charming…

“Ha!”

Faster.

Faster!

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