Page 59 of How to Date a Prince

“Yes, Your R?—”

“—don’t make me use teeth.”

Thomas stops. “Sorry,” he gasps.

And I’m back to work, the rhythm of my mouth and hand intense, given I only have so long before someone notices, even if it’s dark back here. He’s thrusting into my mouth, his arse up off the seat in his greed for me.

“Fuck,” he gasps.

I draw him deep and tease his balls, and he comes with a muffled gasp. I continue till he jerks back and sags into my arm.

At last, I straighten and smile.

“Holy fuck, Dave.” He kisses me thoroughly.

I shrug, and then we place a drink order when the waitress turns up a few minutes later.

“You want to take this to the bathrooms?” he asks archly.

“Fuck, no. You’re waiting till later.”

“Power move,” he teases, leaning over for another kiss, and I’m all too willing to kiss him again.

“You have no idea, believe me.”

He slides his arm around me, and I lean into him.

Together, we lose ourselves in the night out, ignoring the world beyond and messages on our phones. I switch mine off. Thomas glances fleetingly at his phone at one point before he slides it away in his pocket, a slight frown on his face, which quickly smooths over when he meets my gaze again.

It’s very late when we’re in his flat. “Let’s stay up all night.” I nudge him in the kitchen as we down some water after the earlier drinks. “I’ll need to go early.”

“Stay.”

“You know I can’t stay. Besides, sleep is overrated. I’m used to getting by on not enough sleep, don’t worry.”

“I’m afraid you’re not selling insomnia, Auggie. But I want to spend all the time I can with you tonight.” He takes me by the hand to the plush modern sofa. We sink into the corner of the sectional together.

I chuckle, reflecting. “Probably my best sleeps are at Balmoral or Sandringham, usually when I’m out of London.”

“I think you need to get out of London more often, then. Why all the rotten sleeps?”

My breath catches at that.

“Probably my sleeping got worse again after I had to give up horses. Well, not quite horses, but competing.”

Thomas is unfazed by my shift in topics. He gives me a curious look. “What happened?”

My lips twist, and I continue to study my fingertips, feeling heavy. “I think I need to back up a little first so it makes more sense as I explain. My mum meant the world to me. Aside from that, she did a lot of things, helping people. But before that, she was an athlete, representing Britain as an equestrian. She went all the way, gold medal in individual events, silver for the team events. She was incredible. When she had me, her career as an athlete ended, by her choice. She met my father at a show at some point. Cue fairy-tale romance and a grand wedding in a cathedral, the works. And I was born a year later. Though they dated for several years before they married. I mean, you probably know this all already.”

“I want to hear this from you. I mean, we’ve all heard about their fairy-tale romance.” Thomas continues to hold my hand, listening. I don’t know if I’ve ever opened up to anyone quite like this before. It feels vulnerable—and welcome. Even if he spills everything to the pap one day. Though he would probably have about as much as I do to lose if the paparazzi’s in his business.

“So,” I continue, glancing fleetingly at him, “with my mum, Anne and I were on horseback ever since I can remember. We both loved it and loved spending time with our mum like that. I started to compete when I was little. When she died a couple of years ago, I promised her I would make her proud of me. Before then, I competed fiercely as a teen like my life depended on it, even in boarding school with special arrangements. I was qualifying not only nationally but internationally—and I qualified for the Olympic team.”

“Holy shit, Auggie.”

Talking about it kind of feels like talking about something that happened once to someone I know rather than myself. “It was some time ago. Years.”

“I remember seeing some pictures of you online on horses, but I didn’t realize the extent of your training. Princes trotting by on polo ponies is a niche I could really get into,” Thomas teases, then frowns. “But wait a minute. I know you’re talking about jumping and stuff. But I’m pretty sure I would’ve heard about a prince competing at the Olympics.”

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