PROLOGUE: In Which She Stars in Her Own Wrong Turn

PROLOGUE: In Which She Stars in Her Own Wrong Turn

**************************************

There was no backing out once I was in Mick’s bedroom.

Even if I wanted to turn around – which I didn’t – it was way too late. The door didn’t creak when I’d slipped inside but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t creak if I tried to pussy out and run. Knowing my luck, I’d trip and fall in my haste and Mikhail’s guards would storm in and catch me in my Certified Slutty negligée, bailing out of seducing their prince. They’d probably think I was some kind of jezebel trying to poison him in his sleep.

So don’t pussy out, O, I told myself, blinking until my eyes adjusted to the dark. You want this. You totally want this. Want him.

Channelling my inner Bond girl, I took a couple of steps toward one side of his massive California king-sized sleigh bed. In the pitch black, I had to rely on my memory of the room’s layout from my tour of the entire palace the previous day. After the nine-hour flight in his private jet, Mikhail had brought the entire gang – Savita, Ryan, Iris and me – up to his room to relax, blushing like a tomato when we all stood gobsmacked at the sheer size of it. As if he could say “Yeah, my bedroom’s the size of a chapel but hey, we’re still on for a game of Call of Duty before we crash, right?” and we’d be all cool about it.

That was Mikhail for you. So modest. And so fucking sexy it hurt to look. With his inky black hair, icy-blue eyes and athlete’s physique, it was no wonder he had such a sea of girls to choose from for senior prom, like a farmer picking the best cow at a show. It had hurt that he hadn’t asked me but I was long over that. Sort of.

Because tonight, I’m going to have the best sex of my life.

I was being totally unfair to Kyros, the bastard, because despite the messy way we’d broken up, he was quite…good.

Oh, yeah. So good he never gave you an orgasm.

Kyros Coustapolis might have been Adonis incarnate but I’d never experienced what my best friend, Savita, called “the big O”. It might as well have been the Loch Ness monster to me – a myth. That didn’t mean I hadn’t gotten wet whenever I came to Corfu for Christmas and saw my ex-boyfriend. That wasn’t the problem.

Maybe it wasn’t Kyros, a spiteful voice in my head said. Maybe it’s you.

It was with this upsetting thought floating in my head that I tripped over my feet and went flying right onto the bed – unceremoniously landing on the object of my affections in a tangle of awkward limbs. If he’d been fast asleep, he sure as hell wasn’t as soon as my palm connected with his face.

“The hell?” he grunted, groggily trying to sit up.

Without thinking, I pushed him back down, thankful that he couldn’t see how red my face definitely was.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Mikhail. Are you OK? Did I hurt you?” I babbled. As gracefully as I possibly could, I moved to straddle him, shivering when I felt his bare chest below my palms. “Are you bleeding?” I gently did a sweep of his face, relieved to feel that there was no trace of warm liquid or a bump.

He froze. I wished I could see his face right then; wished I could see if he was recoiling because it was me, one of his best friends, sneaking into his bedroom at midnight. Before I could chicken out, I lowered my lips to his – or at least where I thought they were. Instead, my mouth connected with his clenching jaw. It was unusually bristly and that only made it sexier. Slowly, I kissed my way up to his lips, praying that he wouldn’t pull away from me, or tell me to get the hell out. Which was a strong possibility at this point.

But then he kissed me back, one big hand flying to the back of my head to keep me there.

A spurt of hot need erupted in my gut and before I knew it, his tongue had found its way into my mouth. Just as I’d suspected, Mikhail Alvonich the Third knew how to kiss. He continued to taste me, tugging my bottom lip into the warm abyss of his mouth.

I pulled back, panting, my heart beating a frantic tattoo against my chest. Mikhail let out a groan of discontent, his hands trailing down my sides and to my legs bracketing his sides. I tugged the sheer fabric of my negligée over my head and flung it over my shoulder, now completely naked.

I hadn’t been naked with any other guy but Kyros, but I was okay enough with my body not to feel way too self-conscious. Besides, it was completely dark in here; the moon obscured by clouds. Mikhail couldn’t see – only feel.

“I want you to touch me, Mickey,” I whispered, searching for his hands, leaning forward and placing them on my chest. His hands were huge and warm, and when they instantly squeezed my breasts in the palms, I could’ve combusted.

Almost lazily, Mikhail traced a pattern around both pebbled nipples before pulling and elongating them between deft fingers.I cried out before I could catch myself, the sensation of his calloused skin against my sensitive nipples so beautiful it hurt. I keened against him, unconsciously grinding myself against what I knew was his growing erection beneath the comforter. Hot and hard, it hit me right there.Mikhail Alvonich the motherfucking Third was hard for me.

One hand slid away from my breast, tracing a path of heat down my belly before cupping the pulsing apex between my thighs. A loud moan escaped my lips before I could catch myself but Mikhail didn’t hiss for me to be quiet. Come to think of it, he hadn’t said much, aside from cursing when I’d crushed him.

“Please,” I begged, when it seemed like minutes had passed of him not touching me where I wanted to be touched the most.

Shifting beneath me, he ran his index finger along my opening, pausing at the swollen tip of my clit. He removed his fingers and I whimpered in protest. In the following silence, I heard the unmistakable sucking sound that told me that he’d just tasted me on himself.

“Oh,” I whispered, wishing I’d seen that. I was a bunch of contradictions. “That’s so…hot.”

And then his finger pushed into me.

Yelping, I arched off him before giving in to the sensation and rocking into him. He brought the pad of his thumb to my clit, feverishly rubbing it while he eased another finger inside me. I let out yet another sharp cry, shuddering when he crooked a finger and found another myth I’d heard about – my G-spot. I knew that that was what it was because in that moment, just like that, I came apart over his hand – and came.

Shudders racked my body and bright spots danced before my eyes. My climax had taken me by surprise, even though I’d sensed that the strong need to pee had nothing to do with my bladder and everything to do with the guy fingering my cunt.

I wanted to cry in gratitude. It wasn’t me. There was nothing wrong with me. I could come.

“Thank you,” I breathed on a sob, reaching down and bracketing Mikhail’s face with my hands. Leaning forward, I kissed him, finding his lips with no trouble. His tongue flickered out to trace the seam of my lips before I parted them and allowed him entry. Groaning, he kicked the comforter away from right under me and that was how I discovered that he slept in the nude.

Nothing sexier.

The kiss changed when I felt his erection press against my inner thighs. His tongue plundered my mouth, attacked my tongue. His groans became louder, more desperate. I sucked on his lower lip, sinking my teeth into it and trembling when he let out a garbled curse.

Ripping my lips from his, I sputtered, “Condom,” and sat up, blood ringing in my ears. “Oh, crap. I forgot!”

Probably because you didn’t think you’d get this far.

Mikhail’s breathing was ragged and his body quaked with unreleased tension. I was so stupid. So, so stupid. What if I hadn’t said anything and he’d come inside me? What if I got pregnant and had to explain it to Dad and Rory? Dad would come after Mickey with a machete and a .38. He’d be arrested for murdering the heir to the Ruslavic throne and my brother, Calvin, wouldn’t have anyone to play baseball with. Rory would never divorce him and would probably waste away, crying herself to sleep every night apart from her one true love and mentally hating me.

All because I didn’t fucking think of a condom.

I felt Mikhail move beneath me and reach for his nightstand. Without pushing me off, the drawer was pulled open and, after rooting around for a few seconds, he closed it again. The crinkling of foil made my heart beat faster.

“Oh. I should’ve known,” I said softly. Mickey wasn’t a man-whore but he did get action. I just hadn’t expected he’d brought girls to his family castle.

He snorted.

I hoisted myself off him and waited for him to roll the latex on, feeling less sure of myself by the second. What if Kyros had cheated on me because I was such a crappy lay? The thought had occurred to me before but I wasn’t about to let that come in the way of what would be the best I’d ever had. Mikhail had given me an orgasm. I owed it to him to give him the same. Heck, I owed him my life.

“Come here,” I hissed, blindly grabbing his head and pulling him into a breathless kiss. He matched my intensity, situating himself between my parted thighs without breaking apart from me.

My hands strayed to his broad shoulders, clutching at them tightly as his mouth ravaged mine. Before I knew it, I was squirming for contact with his cock. He chuckled, a low and sensual sound that made me even wetter. Reaching down between us, I grabbed his hardness, the laugh on his lips dying and morphing into a painful groan.

He was huge. So huge I couldn’t get my whole hand around his girth. So huge I started doing mathematical calculations to figure out how much he would stretch me.

So the rumours are true, I thought, pleased beyond belief. Squeezing, I drew out another groan from his mouth.

“Stop,” he rasped, stilling my hand.

“I want you,” I murmured, writhing impatiently under him. I sighed when I felt him at my entrance, the bulbous tip of his cock running along the slit of my pussy. “Shit,” I hissed when he nudged my clit. “Ah, please!”

He slowly dipped into me and I mewled, wanting more. Tilting my hips to accept him, I swept my hands down his back and dug my fingernails into the muscular globes of his ass, forcing him into me all the way and smashing my breasts against his chest.

Pain, sharp yet satisfying, throbbed through me from accommodating someone so big. Kyros wasn’t small, by any means, but I was – as he’d informed me – extremely tight. Hearing Mikhail’s sharp intake of breath further confirmed the truth of that.

“Big,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut.

But just as I was growing used to his size, he pushed in deeper and my eyes snapped open. I cried out and he stilled, his entire body tense.

“I’m okay,” I said quickly, afraid that he’d pull out. “Don’t hold back.” It seemed like the right thing to say; it was what I wanted, after all.

Lowering his face into the crook of my neck, Mikhail cursed into my skin before moving inside me.

“Oh, boy,” I choked out, tilting my hips in a bid to increase the pressure inside me.“Wow.”

Moving faster, Mikhail’s thrusts and withdrawals took my breath away. Catching my breath, I grabbed at his ass once more, feeling the muscle bunch beneath my fingertips. He hooked a hand behind my knee and wrapped my leg around his waist, punctuating this act by plunging into me again. I arched off the bed, wailing. Eyes glazed over, I moaned out his name. He paused, his heart racing against mine.

“What?” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “What are you doing? Keep going!”

I’d heard of guys who brought girls to the edge of orgasm, only to pull out and walk away. It was said to be the cruellest form of torture but since I hadn’t ever experienced an orgasm, I hadn’t worried about that. Tonight was a different story. If Mikhail left me unfulfilled like this, I was going to die.

“Please,” I panted, my voice no more than a breath.

Grunting, he thrust into me with no mercy, his cock bumping that spot. I moaned, writhing against him, desperate to experience that sensation again.

“Come,” he said, his voice thick.

I was going to. So close. So, so…close.

Tightness… Pressure… So much… Too much…

I came, releasing everything I had. Mikhail was furiously pumping inside me and for one scary moment, I thought he’d rip me apart.

But a beautiful thing happened. Arching his back and letting out an animal groan, he shattered, his whole body coiling and releasing. Collapsing onto me, he all but crushed me. With a shaky hand, I reached up and ran my hand through the damp curls of his head, looping a lock around my –

Curls? I thought, quickly pulling my hand back.

Mikhail’s hair was closely cropped to his head. Less than an inch of hair. Way too short to be curly.

Oh, fuck me.

“Get off me or I’ll scream,” I hissed, crashing down from post-coital bliss so fast, my head spun.

He laughed. “Oh, but you have been screaming,” he quipped, and he sounded nothing like Mikhail. For starters, his voice was a hundred times deeper. And he had an accent. Mikhail, who’d practically grown up in the States, didn’t. Heaving himself out of me, the stranger rolled onto one side of the bed.

Ignoring the emptiness I felt, I took a deep breath and sat up, pain reverberating in my entire lower half.

“Who the hell are you?” I demanded, flailing for a bedside lamp, if there even was one.

“Who the hell are you?” he countered, beating me to it and flicking a light on.

He turned back and looked me over. A look I couldn’t identify shadowed his face. I gawked. I couldn’t help it; couldn’t hide it.

This was no fresh-out-of-high-school Mikhail. No, this was an unshaven, icy-blue eyed man – a naked, unshaven, icy-blue eyed man. Who had been inside me minutes ago. Making me come. Hard.

Muscular with a Roman nose and full lips, it was his hair that really held my attention. Thick and curly, it hung over his forehead, drenched with the result of his strenuous activity with me. The fact that it wasn’t greying in places was comforting. At this rate, I placed him somewhere in his twenties.

“I kept saying Mikhail’s name. You knew,” I blurted, hugging myself. Glancing around at what I could finally see was the wrong bedroom, I felt like crying. “You knew who I wanted.”

He quirked a brow. “So you're telling me that Mikhail’s wife died a year ago and he’s already inviting wh0res to his bed?”

Wife?

Brushing off the suggestion that I was a paid slut, I bit out, “What the hell are you talking about? Mickey’s only eighteen!”

The man’s lips parted but no words came out.

“Well?” I prodded.

He cleared his throat. “You're…one of little Mikhail’s friends?”

“Yes! What did you thin…” My voice trailed off. Little Mikhail… Meaning there was a big Mikhail… Mikhail’s dad… “Oh, God.”

The man looked equally grim. “Please don’t tell me you're sixteen.”

“I’m such an idiot,” I mumbled, shooting off the rumpled bed and searching the floor for my negligée. “Such an awkward idiot.” Locating the slip and pulling it on, I finally faced the man – the wrong man – I’d seduced. “I’m eighteen. Not that it matters because…because I’m so stupid. I took a wrong turn somewhere and you're probably…probably one of the guards and I slept with you!”

He laughed again, standing. I instantly averted my eyes from his semi-erectness. So much bigger in the light.

“Let’s not forget that you came to me,” he pointed out.

My head snapped in his direction and I was shocked to see him approaching. “Let’s not forget that a normal person would’ve stopped me! A normal person would’ve admitted that he isn’t Mikhail!”

“Any man who’d do that,” he said in a low voice, “is either gay or a saint.”

“Ugh,” I snorted in disgust, stepping away from him.

In one stride he was before me, wrenching me to him. I suddenly found it difficult to breathe under his blue-eyed stare.

“Nikolai,” he breathed, lowering his lips to mine. I closed my eyes, suppressing a moan when his tongue slipped into my mouth to taste me.

“What?” I asked in a daze when his mouth left mine.

His lips quirked into a smile and he released me. “My name is Nikolai. Nikolai Alvonich,” he added, and I took a shaky step back because I recognised that name. “I’m little Mikhail’s uncle.”