Loving my Forbidden Prince

The Aftermath.

Prince Aaron and I walked through the grand glass doors of Hotel Grandeur, one of L.A.’s most luxurious resorts. The uniformed concierges at the entrance gave a respectful nod as soon as they saw him. I pulled my trench coat tighter around me, trying to hide behind him, hoping no one would notice us together.

He gave a quiet laugh and reached for my hand, his touch instantly warming me.

“The place is empty, my dear. I had it cleared out,” he said gently, giving my palm a reassuring squeeze.

During our unexpectedly exciting movie date, he had figured out within minutes that I wasn't Nina. The speed of his realization made lying feel pointless, so I confessed everything outright. To my relief, he took it surprisingly well, very amused by the scenario. As the night went on, the chemistry between us grew without either of us trying. By the time the movie ended, we couldn't keep our hands off each other, kissing passionately and making love at the back of the limousine, riding his thick c**k till the muscles in my thighs gave out. My body felt alive for the first time in a long time. In addition, for the first time since I got this job, I broke the rules.

I took a shaky breath and managed a small smile as the doors to a private elevator opened. Then, before I could say anything, he pulled me to him, threading his fingers into my hair at my nape, and lowering his head. I met him halfway with no hesitation but desire, parting my lips. He claimed them with tender aggression, a hungry growl escaping his throat. My hands found their way into his hair on instinct. For a moment, I was lulled into an intoxicating s*x daze, as the intense heat of our kiss consumed me.

He finally pulled away, breathless, our heart beats synchronising. He wrapped me in his arms and buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply. The two bodyguards stood silently nearby, their faces hidden behind their black masks. I’d heard him call them James and Sirius. With the way they stood, I began to wonder how long they had encountered situations like this… he is the Prince, alright, and women fell at his feet, which made me start to think whether I was a fling or not.

Ridiculous, I chastised myself in my mind, and shut my eyes, forgetting for a moment I was in his arms. Of course, I was a fling.

I was going down a path I knew I was going to cry over later.

“Thinking much?” he asked me softly, catching me off guard.

“No,” I answered quickly, shrugging my shoulders. He tucked my hair behind my ear, trailing his fingers along my jaw, giving me a curious look. He was about to say something, but then the elevator doors opened, and before us was an extravagantly decorated suite, the kind of place I wouldn't be able to afford in years. A luxury penthouse.

"This is…Nice,” I managed to say, attempting to mask my surprise, and forcing myself not to gawk. I didn’t want to seem like a dork. Although I was one.

“Certainly,” He replied to me, pulling off his jacket and tossing it across the room. Then he spread his arms in a Regal fashion. “You would like it here,” He added, as if he was trying to convince me. “What would you like first, a shower or a meal?”

“A shower's fine,”

“A shower it is, then.” With a gentle nod, the Prince led me through a floor-to-ceiling pair of double doors that led into the bedroom. I tried not to gawk at the luxury and act normal, but my eyes kept darting towards the enormous king-sized bed and all over the place.

“This is the bathroom,” he called my attention, pointing at a brownish sleek door.

“Thank you,” I murmured sheepishly, trying to hide my excitement as I walked towards it. Undoubtedly, there was going to be a jacuzzi, and I couldn't wait to soak up in it. And I was right.

The bathroom was a very large space, so huge that it could serve as an apartment on its own. It was divided into three compartments by glass floor-to-ceiling sliding doors. The first compartment housed the washroom, a huge wardrobe for towels, and the toilet, and was the largest of all three. The second compartment had a shower. It was a small space. The third compartment had the jacuzzi, and was the only space that had a floor-to-ceiling glass window, providing a breathtaking and relaxed view of the outside. I mentally prepared to drown myself in scented bubbles and rose petals and pretend my life was altogether.

That was the plan at least, till I heard a small tap on the door, and the Prince peeked his head through, wearing that infuriating and charming smirk of his.

“Do you mind if I soak in with you?”

*

After two hours of mindblowing s****l activity in the bathroom, the bedroom smelled faintly of jasmine, strawberry and steam. I felt so raw and sore in my delicate area, which still left a tingling sensation from the memories of my walls squeezing against his c**k. My body felt both exhausted and alive. I had changed into one of the pairs of the hotel’s silk robes….which felt far too soft and fluffy against my skin, almost lulling me to sleep.

Prince Aaron was stretched out across the bed in a white robe, scrolling through something on his phone with the lazy and confident ease of someone who owned the world.

The Penthouse was made up of four connected rooms –a kitchenette, a living room, a bedroom and an adjoining bathroom. It looked cosy and rich, those were the only thoughts in my mind vocabulary that I could come up with.

Each room was elegantly and tastefully furnished, and had floor-to-ceiling glass windows, with the exception of the bathroom. From where I was perched on the bed, I was amazed at the startling view of the city glittering below, bustling alive with movement, and the thick clouds drifting lazily above the night sky. I wondered what the sight of the sun rising up in the morning would look like from up here, and I looked forward to it.

Just then, my stomach grumbled loudly, which made my face flush, and my cheeks heated up in embarrassment. I threw a side glance at Prince Aaron, who was staring at me knowingly with an amused smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. As if on cue, there was a soft knock on the door. Two hotel staff wheeled in a massive trolley gleaming in gold trim and glass domes. The aroma that followed was divine … a mixture of mouth-watering scent of spices, melted butter, and baked something.

“Your order, Your Highness,” one of the staff said with a bow before quietly exiting the room.

I gaped at the size of the trolley, and noticed a white piece of card peeking out from one of the linen folded like origami. Curious, I plucked it out and took a glance.

Enjoy your last night in L.A., Your Highness.

Try not to ruin the plating this time.

— Gordon Ramsay