Royally Chained Read online
Royally Chained
Rebel Fox
Contents
Preface
1. Ella
2. Aleks
3. Ella
4. Aleks
5. Ella
6. Aleks
7. Ella
8. Aleks
9. Ella
10. Aleks
11. Ella
12. Ella
Epilogue
Afterword
About the Author
Royally Chained © 2018 Rebel Fox
Cover Design by Mayhem Cover Creations
Photo: Depositphotos
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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Preface
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
1
Ella
“Ella, your next appointment is here.”
I glance up from my computer screen and smile at Emily. Her short, curvy frame is propped against the door, arms crossed as she blows a bubble from the gum between her teeth. Like me, Emily is blonde haired and blue eyed, a throwback to our Nordic roots. My beautiful and sometimes-good-at-her-job assistant is also my sister.
“Why do you have that weird look in your eyes?” I ask.
“What look?” She shrugs innocently.
“Don’t play coy, Em. I know you. And right now, you have that look lions get right before they take out their prey.”
She smirks and leans forward, gesturing behind her. “Okay, it’s just that this guy is hot. Like holy balls hot. I think maybe you should keep him for yourself.”
“Ha, ha.” I glare at her. “As if that’s ever going to happen.”
“Fine.” Her lips curl into a devilish smile. “Then maybe I’ll keep him for myself.”
“If only that was company policy,” I say.
“Lucky I’m in tight with the boss.” She winks. “I don’t think she’d mind throwing me a bone. Just because she is bitter and jaded doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be.”
I clear my throat and pick an imaginary piece of lint from my shirt. “I’m not bitter and jaded. I’m just very levelheaded.”
Emily shakes her head. “You’re a walking, talking hypocrisy. World renowned matchmaker who doesn’t believe in love herself.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “Em, I don’t have time for this right now. I need to prep for the client. So please make yourself useful and find something to do around here while I get his files.”
“Sure thing, boss.” She saunters away.
“Two minutes,” I call after her. “Then send him in.”
Emily disappears around the corner and I turn my attention back to my computer screen, pulling up the information for my next client. When I see the name on my calendar, I frown. This one stood out to me for all the wrong reasons.
As a professional matchmaker who caters to some of the wealthiest clients in the world, it isn’t uncommon to have skeleton files come across my desk until I meet them in person. Often times, my clients are high profile and have concerns about their privacy, so I might not know exactly who I’m meeting with until they walk into my office. It’s common to be surprised in my line of work, but there was something about this file that rubbed me the wrong way.
The client didn’t even attempt to make up a fake surname. He only gave me his first, Aleksandr. No photo, no likes or dislikes, and not even a half-assed bother of answering the typical questions. I haven’t even met him yet and already he seems arrogant and conceited. If he can’t be bothered with answering a few simple questions, I don’t see why I should waste my time on him.
That is until I see him standing in my doorway a second later. I glance up, and up and up. The man is tall. Like he would tower over me by at least a foot. And he is devilishly handsome with light brown hair and piercing green eyes. But those eyes lack any real warmth, and I know immediately I wasn’t wrong about him.
There is something about the way he carries himself that just comes off as arrogant. And I am half tempted to kick him out of my office before we even get started. This is the kind of guy I just can’t stand. Like all the guys who came before him in my life, his ego is the largest thing in the room. Him and men just like him are the reason I gave up on dating long ago.
“Are you going to invite me in?” he asks.
Before I can even attempt to give him an answer, he makes himself at home and takes a seat across from me. I clear my throat and adjust my blouse. Suddenly, the room feels very hot.
“Excuse me just one moment,” I tell him.
Using the intercom, I page Emily and request for her to adjust the air conditioning. Across from me, Aleksander smirks, and his eyes seem as though he is laughing at me.
“It’s hot in here,” I say.
He cocks his head to the side. “Is it?”
I can tell he thinks he’s affecting me somehow, but he couldn’t be farther from the truth. And to prove my point, I rouse the computer screen and get down to business.
“I’ve been looking over your files, Aleksander.” I peer at him across the desk. “Is that even your real name?”
His brow arches, and for a fleeting moment, he seems almost surprised by my question, but he quickly recovers.
“It is.”
“And do you have a last name?” I ask.
“I prefer just Aleks.”
My fingers drum against the crisp white surface of my desk. “I noticed you didn’t fill out the questionnaire in its entirety. That will need to be rectified if you wish to proceed—”
“What more do you need to know?” he grunts.
I repress the rude remark on the tip of my tongue. I’m a professional, and I have dealt with much worse than this arrogant asshole.
“Well for starters, you forgot to fill out the likes and dislikes. What are you looking for in an ideal partner? What personality traits are attractive to you—”
“Ella, is it?” He relaxes into the chair and steeples his hands in front of him. “Can I be frank with you?”
Finally, we’re getting somewhere. “I would prefer it.”
He smiles and gives me a curt nod. “Very well. Here’s what I’m looking for. A woman…” His eyes rake over me, sending unexpected chills down my body. “Petite. Curvy. Beautiful. She needs to be smart, reserved, and have the ability to keep a secret. But most importantly, she needs to be fertile.”
My cheeks flame with a sudden rush of heat and I stand up, crossing my arms as I glare at him. “What is wrong with you? This is not an escort service, or a fertility clinic. Or whatever else you might have in mind. I think it’s time for you to leave now.”
He doesn’t move. Instead, his eyes linger for far too long on the cleavage that’s made an appearance between the silk seams of my white blouse.
“Are you always this uptight?”
“Excuse me?” I bite out. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? I provide highly dignified matchmaking services, and you sir, do not fit the bill for what I require in a client. Now I am asking you again to—”
“I have a lot of money,” he sighs. “I’m willing to pay. I’ll need a nondisclosure agreement from you, of course.”
“Are you hard of hearing?” I ask in disbelief. “I told you to get out.”
“And I’m telling you to sit down and do your damn job, Ella. Your business boasts itself as being the best, and I want you to prove it.”
“That isn’t how this works. You might be rich, but you don’t get to call the shots in here, Aleks.”
He smiles, his eyes dancing over my face as though he’s finally noticing my features for the first time.
“You’re a very beautiful woman,” he says. “Are you married?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern,” I answer.
“Please sit down,” he gestures. “Hear me out. That’s all I ask.”
I shouldn’t. I know that I shouldn’t. But there is something in his voice that sings of desperation, and for some unknown reason, I decide to take pity on him.
“You have three minutes to convince me not to call security,” I tell him.
He drums his fingers over the desk and glances out the window. “I have a very high-profile job. In my country, I suppose you could say I’m a bit of a celebrity. And with that celebrity comes an enormous amount of expectations. For starters, finding a wife. I am not a man who has the luxury of finding true love, even if I were naïve enough to believe in it. I am keenly aware that there are plenty of women seeking out a man in my position. I am wealthy, and I have all the advantages of a luxurious lifestyle at my disposal. I can offer a comfortable living. A marriage. A happy life. But I simply don’t have time for the normal stages of dating.”
I lean back in my chair and release a breath. “So, let me get this straight. You are looking for a bride? Someone motivated by wealth who will marry you on that premise alone?”
His shoulders tighten, but he nods in agreement. “Yes.”
“That sounds… awful,” I murmur. “Wouldn’t it bother you to know that your wife is only with you for money?”
“What difference would it make?” he asks in a low voice. “They are all after my money. At least this way, I can choose for myself who I am chained to for the rest of my life.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I can get on board with that. I’m sorry that you feel that way, and those are your circumstances, but—”
“Do you really believe that the people who come in here find everlasting love?” he asks. “Do you really feel that your service provides the ultimate fairytale, Ella? Are you telling me that you actually buy into that notion?”
I bite my lip, but it doesn’t stop the words from spilling out anyway. “No, I don’t believe that. I believe that I find the most suitable companion for my clients at the time they present themselves. But I can’t guarantee love or even happiness.”
“Because you don’t believe in them,” he finishes for me. “We aren’t so different, are we, Ella?”
Every time he says my name, my thighs clench together, and I don’t know why. It’s ridiculous. This whole idea is ridiculous, and I don’t even know why I’m entertaining it.
“I can’t,” I insist. “It would ruin my reputation. That isn’t what my company is all about. We sell the dream, not reality.”
He snorts. “Well at least you can be honest about it.”
The room falls quiet, and I’m not sure what else to say. Part of me feels bad for him. He’s honest about what he wants, and there’s nothing wrong with that, I suppose. But he isn’t going to find it here.
“There are other services, I’m sure, who provide this type of thing, but I’m afraid that I’m not one of them.”
He adjusts the watch on his wrist and pins me with his gaze. “Have dinner with me.”
I blanch. “What?”
“Tonight, seven o clock. Will that work for you?”
“No, it doesn’t work,” I argue. “I have…”
My voice trails off because I can’t think of a single excuse that would be plausible to get me out of this situation. And worse yet, I don’t want to admit to myself that I feel a tiny thrill that this striking, brooding, stranger just asked me out to dinner.
“You were saying?” Aleks asks.
“Why do you want to have dinner with me?”
“I don’t, actually. I want to fuck you, but it only seems appropriate that I buy you dinner first.”
My mouth falls open, and all of my vocabulary seems to have gone right out the window as I stare at him in disbelief.
“You can’t be serious,” I rasp.
“I am,” he answers. “We’re both adults, Ella. I can see your nipples straining against the fabric of your blouse. The way you keep shifting in your chair and clenching your thighs. There’s nothing wrong with wanting some carnal pleasure, is there?”
I glance down at my breasts and gasp when I see that he’s right. They are like headlights. God, how humiliating. I cross my arms to try to cover them up, but Aleks just gets up and walks around my desk.
He kneels before me, and my breath halts.
“W-w-what are you doing?” I sputter.
His fingers trail down my calf, and shivers explode all over my body.
“I can smell your arousal already,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my thigh. “I bet if I were to lift up your skirt, I’d see your pussy soaking wet for me.”
My chest heaves at the mental image of him doing just that. I don’t know how this happened. One minute I’m in a meeting with a client- admittedly the most handsome client I’ve ever seen- and the next he’s kneeling before me speaking of filthy things. Filthy things that I want very much.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he says. “Tell me that you don’t feel anything right now and I’ll leave.”
I don’t say anything because we both know it would be a lie.
His hands come to rest on the seam of my skirt, flirting just above the silky skin of my thighs. “Let me show you,” he says in a husky voice. “Let me show you what I can do to you.”
“Aleks…”
The rest of my words die off when he reaches around and cups my ass in his strong palms, dragging me forward so that I’m resting on the edge of the chair.
“Be a good girl,” he says. “And pull up your skirt.”
I hesitate for just the slightest of seconds, and he pinches the flesh of my ass through the material of my skirt.
When I yelp, he growls. “Lift your skirt and show me what I want.”
With shaky fingers, I lift the hem of my skirt and pull it up around my hips. Aleks lets out a primal sound as he spreads my legs and sees the sticky white cotton between my thighs. When he rubs his finger over the wet spot, I jolt.
“How long has it been since a man has eaten your pussy?” he asks, his fingers moving in slow circular motions over the cotton.
“I don’t… ahhh!” I cry out at the sensations flooding my body. It’s been too long since a man has even touched me, but I don’t want to tell him that.
“Answer me, Ella,” he warns.
“Never,” I squeak out.
He stops completely and stares up at me. “You’re a virgin?”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment and I bite my lip. I’ve messed around with guys before, but I always had some stupid notion that my virginity was precious somehow. That it should be saved for someone special. But as the years rolled by, I became disillusioned with the notion. There was nobody special. At least not for me.
“I’ve done stuff,” I insist.
“But you’ve never had sex?” he grills.
In answer, I give the tiniest shake of my head.
Instead of abandoning me completely as I would expect at this point, he groans, long and deep, feral and possessive.
“Oh fuck, Ella. You shouldn’t have told me that.”
“Why?” I whisper.
“I’m going to eat you out and make you come on my face. It will take everything inside of me not to fuck your brains out right here and now. But tonight, I can promise you it will be my cock that’s sopping wet with your tight little cunt.”
Before I even have a chance to respond, he’s yanking my panties down. And I suddenly feel very exposed with the realiza
tion that nobody’s ever seen me like this before. It’s broad daylight in my clean, white office, and this beautiful man is kneeling before me with my legs spread lewdly three inches from his face.
“Mmmm,” he murmurs as he drags his fingers through my glistening arousal. “That’s it, baby. Look at how wet you are for me.”
I squeak again as he dives forward and laps at the moisture like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. My fingers curl into his hair and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. It’s the most intense sensation I’ve ever experience, only amplified when he shoves his tongue inside of me.
“Aleks,” I pant.
I don’t even realize it until I look down and find myself gyrating all over his face while he clasps my ass in his hands and dines on the most intimate part of my body. I try to find some logic or self-control in this situation, but I can’t.
I want this. And even more, I want his cock inside of me like he promised.
But right now, none of that matters. The only thing that matters is the high. The ebb and flow of his mouth against me. The straining of my nipples. The feeling of his rough, strong fingers clutching at my body. It’s all too much, and it’s not enough at the same time. I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster, and it’s amazing and scary and thrilling.
“Come on my face,” he demands. “Be my dirty girl, Ella.”
I cry out, refusing to let go. I want it to last forever. But it doesn’t. It can’t. Not when he slips his hand up inside my blouse and starts toying with my nipples. I buck against his face and release an animalistic sound as the release floods my system and warmth trickles out between my thighs.
I’m humiliated when I realize that I came on his face, just as he asked. But Aleks doesn’t seem to care. He’s petting me. Caressing me. And licking up the moisture gathered between my thighs.
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