Royal Rock:A Bad Boy Royal Romance(59)

I gasped, my fingers digging marks into his back as he fucked me rough, thrusts deep and fast, his skin slapping against mine.

And then it was over as he slowly finished.

I watched, dazed, as he pulled out and tore the condom from his dick. He wrapped it in a tissue and tossed it into the trash.

"Holy fuck, girl," he said, grinning at me. "I think I'm addicted to that pussy."

I smiled at him. "You're not so bad yourself." I was dizzy with post-sex emotions.

He stood up, stretching, his large cock still mostly erect. "Not bad? I just gave you the best first time imaginable."

He was so damn confident and cocky, but it was the truth. I couldn't  imagine most people got fucked like that, first time or otherwise.

"And it only gets better," he said, grinning, and winked at me.

I couldn't believe I had just fucked my crude stepbrother. He was so  cocky and such an asshole, but the lingering, incredible buzz from my  orgasm reminded me of what he could do to my body. It was totally unlike  anything I'd ever felt before.

I didn't know what I was going to do. I was a good girl. I didn't fuck  my stepbrother, or anyone for that matter. But there I was, already  practically salivating at the idea of letting him fill me up again, and  we had just finished my first time only a minute ago.

I was deep in his wake. He was a ship sailing through my life, pulling me along, and I knew I was powerless to stop it.







Nate had me. As rude and crude as he was, he completely owned me.

And I couldn't wait for more.





10





NATHAN

I woke up early and hit the beach running before Claire even began to stir.

The night before kept playing in my head like a movie. The sheer animal  desire of it was incredible. She seemed almost insatiable. After the  first time, we went at it again, and again her pussy was so fucking  perfect that I wanted to come the instant I slammed inside her.

It was the perfect stress release. After getting home from the boat, she  was clearly still in shock from seeing me take out those two amateur  pirates. I needed to help calm her down, and apparently rough, sweaty  sex was exactly what she had needed and wanted.

We fell asleep together, my arms wrapped around her. I woke up with a  start, surprised that I was still with her. Normally I would have gotten  out of there, because I wasn't the type to sleep over. I couldn't give  the girls I fucked the impression that they'd ever see me again.

I was a SEAL, after all. My life was inherently short and brutal. I couldn't let myself fall in love with some pussy.

But it was different with Claire. All the normal shit that kept me from  getting close had never even occurred to me until I woke up in the  morning. It felt natural and right to just lay there, sweating and  talking about normal shit until we both passed out.

Worst of all, I hadn't thought about those pirates at all. In the cold,  early morning hours, I suddenly realized that something had been bugging  me about them, but I had been too wrapped up in giving Claire the best  fucking orgasms of her life to really notice it.

As I ran down the beach, my body limbering up, my breath coming in deep, I began to tease it all apart.

First, they seemed like amateurs. Any pirates working the U.S. coast  would absolutely have to be pros just to keep from getting caught. Those  two guys just seemed like normal thugs with a speedboat.

Second, they both had the same tattoo. That in itself wasn't weird,  since there were plenty of gangs and pirate crews that used symbols to  prove membership. But there was something about the symbol that was  nagging at me, like I had seen it before somewhere.

Finally, and most damning, was the situation they'd found us in. Why  were pirates out in the rain? Maybe they thought the bad weather meant  it would be easier to stay out of sight and slip past anybody that was  patrolling the waters. But it also meant that most boats worth anything  wouldn't have left the harbor.

So why decide to attack some piece of shit junker like the one we were  in? They had to know that we were a tourist vessel and that we didn't  have anything worth stealing. Maybe they were just going to attack the  first ship they saw, but that was just stupid and reckless, even for  pirates.

The whole thing felt fucked up and wrong. If they weren't just some  run-of-the-mill pirates, then who were they, and why did they come after  us?

I was drenched in sweat and feeling good by the time I made my way back  to the house. Claire was still sleeping, and our parents hadn't come  home, which meant it was easy for me to slip upstairs, shower off,  change, and grab some food real fast.

I was out the door before anyone knew any better.

The Outer Banks was a popular tourist destination. Claire's dad lived in  the richest town, but there were plenty of other places scattered  throughout the 200-mile expanse that were typically included as a part  of the Outer Banks but weren't full of millionaires.

It was large enough to hide a few little hidden pirate coves, too, but I  didn't know where to find any. Plus, I couldn't go around asking  questions like that, or else I was liable to get stabbed in the neck.  Walking up and down the coast until I found something was out of the  question, too, considering the whole point of a pirate cove was to be  hidden from people. One asshole wandering around wasn't going to just  stumble upon it, not to mention the huge size of the coast.

Instead, I made a drawing of the symbol I'd seen tattooed on those guys and went to one of the seediest towns I knew about.

Seedy for Outer Banks standards, at least. It was still pretty decent,  with plenty of tourist crap and whatnot, but it wasn't geared toward the  rich and the ultra-rich. It was a little rough around the edges. As I  walked around the downtown and boardwalk areas, I felt much more  comfortable here than I had back with Claire and her dad.

It didn't take me long before I found the shadiest bar in the area. It  was a dive called The Salty Pecker that had a seagull as their mascot. I  smirked to myself, always one to appreciate a good penis joke, as I  went inside the dimly-lit space.

It was early, still before noon, and the few people in there were  hardcore regulars. Otherwise, it was mostly empty, and so I took a seat  at the bar until the bartender came over.







"What can I do for you?"

"Beer. Coffee, too, if you have it."

"Beer and coffee, coming up. You want some food?"

"Nah. Not right now."

He nodded. "Kitchen does breakfast for another hour."

I thanked him as he walked away. Only in the Outer Banks would a dive bar also serve breakfast.

He returned with my drinks pretty quickly, and I left him a decent tip. I  drank the coffee first, enjoying the scalding heat, and watched a  soccer game on TV.

I was going to have to be patient, and patience was not one of my  strongest qualities. Still, I couldn't exactly wave the symbol around to  every asshole I saw, hoping that someone would lead me directly to the  pirates. I had to be subtle, or at least a little bit subtle, otherwise  I'd get that knife right in the back.

I wasn't sure why I kept thinking about getting stabbed. I was probably  remembering how I had killed the first guy on the boat. Not that I felt  bad about that or anything. I'd killed before in the line of duty and  would kill again. But it was the first time I'd killed outside of a  mission, and it felt a little strange.

Still, I'd do it again if it meant protecting Claire. I wouldn't lose any sleep over it or anything like that.

I started in on the beer as the first hour ticked away. I finished it  and ordered another, tipping generously again. Soon people began to  filter in, mostly tourist types, but also a few hard-looking people,  probably locals.

Eventually I started chatting with the barman. He was a bored guy, owner  of the place, and seemed happy just to have someone to talk with. He'd  been married but was divorced, and he had lived in the area his whole  life. He was Dan the barman, and I had to repress a little smile at the  stupid rhyme.

Eventually I ordered a third drink, tipping well again, and worked up my nerve.

"So, Dan, you must know a lot about this place."

"A lot? My great-granddaddy was the mayor for a few years. I know this place better than anyone."

I nodded. "You seem like a smart guy, too."

"Guess you could say that."

"Well, I was wondering if you could help me with something."

"If I can, I will."

I took the drawing out of my pocket and opened it up. As soon as he saw  it, I could tell he recognized what it was, but his face quickly passed  over his initial reaction.

"Do you know what this means?"

"Can't say that I do."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that? I have a friend who has this tattoo, and I'm trying to find him."

He looked at me quietly for a minute. "You got a friend with that mark?" he asked.

"Yeah, I do."

"I think you should leave."

I was surprised at how fast his demeanor shifted. One second he was  affable and kind, and the next his eyes were narrowed and I could sense  the threat behind his words.

I folded the paper back up. "Okay, okay. No harm meant. If you don't know, you don't know."