Brutal Prince Bonus Scene (Brutal Birthright, #1.5)(31)

“I’m aware of that,” I tell him, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

“You need to seal the deal, so to speak. You know a marriage isn’t finalized until it’s consummated.”

“So you want me to fuck her tonight, is that your point?”

He puts his fork down next to his plate, fixing me with a cold stare.

“No need to be crude.”

“Let’s call a spade a spade. You want me to fuck this girl, despite the fact that we hate each other, despite the fact that she tried to kill me yesterday, because you don’t want your precious alliance to fall apart.”

“Exactly,” he says, picking up his fork once more and spearing a grape out of his Waldorf salad. “And don’t forget, this isn’t my alliance. It benefits you more than anyone.”

“Right,” I say bitterly. “It’s been a real joy so far.”

I stalk upstairs, stripping off my swim trunks and running the shower as hot as I can stand it. I take a good long time soaping myself, washing my hair, letting the water pound down on my shoulders.

I’m aware that I’m supposed to “make Aida my wife” in every sense of the word, but I doubt she’s going to be in the mood for that after I half-drowned her. I’ve never been one for grand romantic gestures, but even under the most liberal interpretations, I don’t think waterboarding counts as foreplay.

In fact, I doubt she’ll even agree to go to dinner with me. Which is fine by me. She probably eats with her hands. She’d only embarrass me if I took her someplace nice.

Even after I hear Aida coming into the room, I stay exactly where I am, enjoying the hot shower. She can stand out there and shiver her ass off for all I care.

I can hear her moving around, but I can’t see what she’s doing because I’ve been in here so long that the glass enclosure of the shower is opaque with steam.

So I’m startled when Aida pushes her way inside, completely naked.

“Hey!” I say. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Showering, obviously,” she says. “Some asshole pulled me into the pool.”

“I’m already in here.”

“Really?” she says, fixing me with an unimpressed stare. “Thank you for informing me of that fact. That’s the kind of razor-sharp observation and inside information that’s sure to secure you the Alderman seat.”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor,” I say to her, in my father’s most insufferable tone.

“Taking lessons in humor from you would be like asking a dog how to perform an appendectomy,” she replies.

She elbows past me to grab the shampoo.

Her bare arm grazes my stomach, and I become acutely aware that we haven’t actually seen each other naked before now.

I’m used to girls who keep their bodies torturously slim by any means necessary—diet, pills, pilates, and even surgical intervention. Aida obviously doesn’t bother with any of that. From what I’ve seen, she eats and drinks whatever she likes, and she probably hasn’t seen a running shoe in years. As a result, she’s curvy, with a soft stomach and a big ass.

But I have to admit . . . her figure is pretty fucking sexy. She’d probably hate to hear me say this, but she kinda has that classic bombshell look—like I could slap a fur bikini on her and she’d be Raquel Welch in One Million Years B.C.

It makes me curious what it would feel like to grab a handful of that soft flesh, to watch her ride on top of me. To throw her around and manhandle her, without worrying that she’s going to snap like a stick figure.

Her smooth brown skin looks even better when you can see more of it. The hot shower is bringing a pink flush to it, particularly across her chest. I’m trying not to stare at her full, round breasts, but the way the soap suds slide down the chasm between them is so distracting . . .

The warm water runs down her body, to the delta between her thighs, where I can see her freshly waxed pussy, completely bare, looking softer than velvet. The fact that it’s waxed for me, under my instructions, is incredibly erotic to me.

Aida is so wild and rebellious. Making her do anything is an incredible feat. She’s determined to spite me, to do the opposite of whatever I say.

The more she rebels, the more I want to control her. I want to bend her to my will. I want to make her do whatever I say, for my pleasure . . .

My cock is getting swollen and heavy between my legs. I see a flutter of Aida’s black lashes as she glances involuntarily downward.

She quickly looks away again, rinsing the shampoo out of her hair. But soon enough, her eyes are drawn back to my body.

I know I’m in good shape. I work out every morning, sixty minutes of intense weight training, followed by thirty minutes of cardio. I have the chef make me macro-portioned meals so I ensure the perfect protein, carb, and fat intake. All of that has led to a well-muscled physique with a solid six-pack.

Aida’s eyes linger over my abs, and the member continuing to swell under her gaze. It’s standing out from my body now.

“See something you like?” I ask her.

“No,” she says, stubborn as ever.

“You fucking liar.”

I step closer to her, so my erect cock brushes against her bare hip. My thigh slides between hers, slippery with soap. I thrust one hand into her thick, dark hair, wrapping the wet rope of hair around my palm and then tugging her head back so she has to look up at me.