Clara and I will face that future down.
Together.
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Did you love Arrogant Brit? I’m not done with you yet dear reader! Turn the page for ANOTHER sexy British Bad Boy, because I’ve included a free copy of ROYAL PRICK for all my loyal Nikki Wild fans! If you haven’t had a chance to read it yet, I hope you enjoy!!!
-Nikki
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Be sure to check out my entire naughty Nikki Wild catalog by clicking RIGHT HERE!
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Part II
BONUS #2
ROYAL PRICK
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By Nikki Wild
Copyright 2016 Nikki Wild
All Rights Reserved
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Find me at my website:
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WWW.WILDNIKKI.COM
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Or friend me on Facebook!
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http://www.facebook.com/wildnikki
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Copyright © 2016 by Nikki Wild
All rights reserved.
Thank you for supporting an independent author! Just for my naughty readers, my entire catalog is now FREE TO READ to anyone with a Kindle Unlimited subscription!
Be sure to check out my entire naughty Nikki Wild catalog by clicking RIGHT HERE!
You might be interested to know that I offer a chance to be an ARC reader, special limited time discounts, new release notification, and FREE EXCLUSIVE CONTENT to anyone that subscribes to my Nikki Wild List! So go ahead, sign up is easy and I will NEVER send you spam or share your e-mail address with anyone.
Sign up for the NIKKI WILD e-mail list by clicking RIGHT HERE!
ROYAL PRICK
Prologue
“Tristan… oh, my God. If we’re caught…”
Gwendolyn Pierce was staring up at me with her wide, soulful eyes and her pretty pink lips all agape, her heart beating so hard if I listened closely, I swore I could hear it. I was close enough to feel it, too, pounding through the thin fabric of her camisole, making her pert nipples quiver against my chest.
I’d caught her in her nightclothes, a modest ensemble of flannel pajama pants and a lacy top with no bra underneath. The latter clung to her small frame, the full, tender globes of her breasts outlined in delicious shadow.
I slid my fingers up along her ribs, returning her gaze, the bare skin of my chest grazing her trembling arms. “Nobody needs to know, Gwennie. It’s just you and me.”
Gwen took in a sharp breath, and for a moment, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t call me that,” she whispered, but trailed off when I began inching her cami up her stomach, revealing more of her pale skin than was appropriate, given who we were to one another.
Gwendolyn was my stepsister. And I was her stepbrother, and heir to a duchy. We were both hot and barely past eighteen and pumped full of hormones. We were dangerous. A scandal waiting to happen.
And I wanted it to happen. I was sure Gwennie did, too. No matter how hard she’d dug her heels in about adapting to British culture—something her mother had insisted upon, accent and all—my stepsister couldn’t shake that rebellious nature of hers. She wasn’t meant for the aristocracy. Then again, neither was I.
“We can’t,” she breathed. God, I could taste her on my lips. She tasted like desire, betraying her words, which came out almost like a squeak. It made my cock hard to no end. She was such a little mouse, but I got the feeling she would turn into a wildcat in bed, once somebody popped that sweet cherry of hers.
Somebody who would, hopefully, be me.
“We can,” I insisted. “See?” And I ever-so-lightly brushed the pad of my thumb over one of her nipples.
“God!” she hissed a little too loudly, and I leaned down to cover her mouth with my own, to stifle the seductive sounds dripping from her mouth. Gwendolyn turned her face away at the last second, panting hard as I teased the nub of puffy, sensitive flesh beneath the fabric of her shirt.
“Let me do this for you,” I whispered in her ear. Her back arched, forcing her hips against my hard-on. “I want you so badly, Gwennie. And I know you want me.” I took one of her hands and placed it on my cock; in response, it lurched toward her, desperate for more contact, so full of want and need that it physically hurt. “Do you feel what you do to me?”
“Tristan,” Gwendolyn said, her doe-like eyes somehow growing even wider. “You’re… pierced? Down there?” She touched the surgical steel embedded in the head of my cock.
“Do you want to see it?” I asked her, shivering as she stroked it. Oh, God, I wanted her to keep going, and to never stop.
“I…” She looked up at me through her lashes, her gaze so curious, so full of wonder. “Um…”
“Come on, Gwennie. Live a little.”
“I can’t,” she said, pushing me away by my chest. My dick slipped from her hand and I groaned. “Not like this, Tristan. Not… here. When you’re only doing it to make your father… our father… mad.”
I leaned against the pantry shelves and rubbed my face, trying to scrub away the frustration boiling in my nuts. When I looked at Gwen again, there was such sadness on her face. I thought that, even in the darkness, I could see the glint of tears in her eyes.
I realized then that, for her, this was so much more than youthful desires. I realized that she might even have feelings for me—genuine feelings, ones that transcended a mere compulsion to be naughty. For me, this was just a passing interest, one of many I’d had since I realized girls didn’t actually have cooties—well, most of them, anyway.