Princely Passions: A Royal Romance Read online

  Princely Passions

  A Royal Romance

  Alexis Angel

  Naughty Angel Publishing

  Princely Passions

  A Royal Romance

  By Alexis Angel

  Copyright 2017 by Alexis Angel

  All rights reserved

  Kindle Edition

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.

  Join Alexis’ Naughty Angel’s Newsletter and find yourself in a world of sin. Open only for Naughty Angels who don’t mind getting their halo dirty.

  Contents

  Note From The Author

  Description

  Also By Naughty Angel Publishing

  1. Derrick

  2. Alicia

  3. Abby Adams: Meet Prince Sin…

  4. Derrick

  5. Alicia

  6. Derrick

  7. Alicia

  8. Abby Adams: A Sinful Sweetheart?

  9. Derrick

  10. Alicia

  11. Derrick

  12. Alicia

  13. Derrick

  14. Alicia

  15. Derrick

  16. Abby Adams: Sinfully Satisfied?

  17. Alicia

  18. Derrick

  19. Alicia

  20. Derrick

  21. Alicia

  22. Abby Adams: Sinfully Good?

  23. Alicia

  24. Alicia

  25. Abby Adams: Wedding Sinner?

  26. Derrick

  27. Alicia

  28. Derrick

  29. Abby Adams: Let She Who Is Without Sin…

  30. Derrick

  31. Alicia

  32. Alicia

  Epilogue

  Alexis

  Daphne Vs. Daddy

  33. Daphne

  34. Dominic

  35. Daphne

  36. Dominic

  37. Daphne

  38. Dominic

  39. Daphne

  40. Dominic

  41. Dominic

  42. Daphne

  43. Daphne

  44. Dominic

  45. Daphne

  46. Dominic

  47. Daphne

  48. Daphne

  49. Daphne

  50. Dominic

  51. Daphne

  52. Dominic

  53. Dominic

  54. Daphne

  55. Daphne

  56. Dominic

  57. Daphne

  58. Dominic

  59. Daphne

  60. Daphne

  61. Daphne

  Carla Vs. Cowboy

  62. Carla

  63. Chase

  64. Carla

  65. Chase

  66. Carla

  67. Chase

  68. Carla

  69. Carla

  70. Carla

  71. Chase

  72. Carla

  73. Chase

  74. Carla

  75. Chase

  76. Carla

  77. Chase

  78. Carla

  79. Epi

  80. Alexis

  Lisa Vs. Outlaw

  81. Lisa

  82. Diesel

  83. Lisa

  84. Diesel

  85. Lisa

  86. Lisa

  87. Lisa

  88. Lisa

  89. Diesel

  90. Lisa

  91. Lisa

  92. Diesel

  93. Lisa

  94. Lisa

  95. Lisa

  96. Diesel

  97. Lisa

  98. Lisa

  99. Epilogue

  100. Alexis

  Brittney Vs. Billionaire

  101. Brittney

  102. Kaden

  103. Brittney

  104. Kaden

  105. Brittney

  106. Brittney

  107. Kaden

  108. Kaden

  109. Brittney

  110. Kaden

  111. Brittney

  112. Kaden

  113. Brittney

  114. Kaden

  115. Brittney

  116. Kaden

  117. Brittney

  118. Kaden

  119. Brittney

  120. Epi

  121. Daphne

  Gisele Vs. Guitar Hero

  122. Gisele

  123. Stone

  124. Gisele

  125. Stone

  126. Gisele

  127. Stone

  128. Gisele

  129. Gisele

  130. Stone

  131. Gisele

  132. Stone

  133. Gisele

  134. Stone

  135. Gisele

  136. Stone

  137. Gisele

  138. Stone

  139. Gisele

  140. Epi

  141. Daphne

  Ashley Vs. Boss

  142. Ashley

  143. Apollo

  144. Ashley

  145. Apollo

  146. Ashley

  147. Apollo

  148. Ashley

  149. Apollo

  150. Ashley

  151. Apollo

  152. Ashley

  153. Apollo

  154. Ashley

  155. Apollo

  156. Ashley

  157. Apollo

  158. Ashley

  159. Apollo

  160. Ashley

  161. Epilogue

  162. Daphne

  Alicia Vs. Billionaire

  163. Alicia

  164. Derek

  165. Alicia

  166. Alicia

  167. Derek

  168. Alicia

  169. Derek

  170. Alicia

  171. Derek

  172. Alicia

  173. Derek

  174. Alicia

  175. Derek

  176. Alicia

  177. Alicia

  178. Derek

  179. Alicia

  180. Epilogue As Told By Alicia

  181. Daphne

  Christine Vs. Professor

  182. Christine

  183. Anders

  184. Christine

  185. Anders

  186. Christine

  187. Anders

  188. Christine

  189. Anders

  190. Cellular One Wireless

  191. Christine

  192. Christine

  193. Christine

  194. Christine

  195. Christine

  196. Anders

  197. Christine

  198. Anders

  199. Christine

  200. Anders

  201. Christine

  202. Epilogue

  203. Daphne

  204. Ashley

  205. Christine

  206. Daphne

  Dirty Lil’ Angels

  Note From The Author

  This book was published in a prior life. But it was taken off sale and I always wanted to remake it as I wasn’t quite satisfied. I’ve made the necessary changes and I’m not super happy with it! I hope you like it too!

  Description

  I have wanted to do this book for a while now.

  It was published in an earlier life, as I stated, but what makes this book unique is that its where I first began to move toward my writing style that I have today.

  I started saying whatever to the rules and making my own path.

  I hope you like it, and if so, please review!

  That’s all!

  Also By Naughty Angel Publishing
r />   Alexis Angel

  Wicked Lil’ Brat

  Man Chaser (unpublished)

  Red & Blue

  Scandalous (unpublished)

  Client 5 (unpublished)

  Jailbait

  Python

  12 Inches

  D.I.L.F.

  Dirty Daddy

  Mr. President

  Stories From The 6 Train

  The Biggest Licker

  Cindersmellya

  24 Inches

  100 Days

  Lust Muscle

  Abby Angel

  Men of the House

  Woman of the House

  Mergers & Acquisitions

  Profit & Lace

  Harem

  Dark Angel

  The Virgin Market

  Gambling For the Virgin

  Buyer’s Market

  Two Beasts

  Dr. Single Dad

  Mona Cox (all unpublished)

  Alicia Vs. Billionaire

  Ashley Vs. Boss

  Natalie Vs. Prince

  Christine Vs. Professor

  Kim Vs. Stepbrother

  Lisa Vs. Outlaw

  Carla Vs. Cowboy

  Fiona Vs. Football Player

  Becca Vs. Biker

  Gisele Vs. Guitar Hero

  Rory Vs. Rockstar

  Daphne Vs. Daddy

  This book is dedicated to Lana Angel

  1

  Derrick

  I own the motherfucking world.

  Seriously, sometimes it just feels like I am the fucking prince of all fucking creation.

  Never more so than when I'm looking out the fucking window of my condo in the fucking clouds high above New York City.

  I live in One57. That's right. Right in the center of Manhattan on a street they call Billionaire's Row. You don't get much more fucking materialistic and pretentious than this.

  "Your Highness," Pressly, my manservant says to me, coming into the large living room with floor to ceiling windows of the sky. "Your motorcycle is ready. Are you quite able to ride today?"

  That's just like Pressly. Always watching out for me. Ever since my mother died when I was thirteen, he's become more like my primary guardian than anything else. He gives off the look and feel of Alfred from Batman, but I know Pressly's had his fun in life. He used to fight for my Kingdom, St. Livy, when we gave forces to the Americans in Vietnam. He lost his wife to cancer - same as my mother, only earlier. I guess we have that going for us. But the number one thing that makes him invaluable is that he doesn't fucking judge me like the rest of the world.

  And the world would be fucking judge me right now if they could. I feel like shit. I only got in about fifteen minutes ago - around 5 am. I was at my nightclub in the Meatpacking District, having a fucking orgy with three Russian models in town for one night. Try drinking a bottle of vodka with some Russian birds and then cumming countless times on their eager faces and you'll understand what I mean when I say that I’m fucking tired enough to go mental.

  "I've prepared some breakfast for you, Sire," Pressly continues, "It'll help you get some energy for the day ahead."

  I turn to look in the mirror. Even for a night of heavy drinking, you’re going to think I’m a cocky fucking asshole when I say I look fucking good. My ice blue eyes are soulfully distant. They can look right into your soul. I have a strong as fuck jawline and a sculpted face. That’s the product of 2000 years of royal fucking blood flowing through me. My chest is cut. My shoulders are fucking broad. I may be a prince, but I look like a King. My arms are the product of over a decade of working out. And my abs. Fuck. Let’s just say that I’ve defined them so well that even if you’re blind, tracing your finger along them will get you fucking hot.

  I’ve gotten you fucking hot now too, haven’t I?

  Admit it. You’re fucking smiling.

  No?

  How about now?

  Whatever. I’ve never let a bird get me down if she wasn’t feeling me.

  Why am I calling girls ‘birds’ you’re wondering? I don’t fucking know. The Brits do. And St. Livy is close enough to them that I guess that shit rubs off.

  But enough about me for now. Breakfast sounds like a very good idea after the night I’ve had. I pad over to the breakfast room and sit down at the clear and sleek glass table - a present from my brother in arms, Silas D'Avington. We fought together for St. Penares in Afghanistan - I was in his group and we were trapped in the mountains near Kandahar for close to a week, surviving on our own. Everything I learned about being a fucking badass came from that fucking guy. After Afghanistan, I came to New York, determined not to lose a single day of my life. My goal - simple - indulge in everything that I ever desired. Whether that was liquor, women, or anything else -- it was all fair game. Never really did any drugs though - it would have made it hard to keep my physique. That's right. My fucking body. What drives the birds fucking wild. 6 feet 4 inches of cut, ripped, and sculpted muscles and sinew. A set of abs that was chiseled by fucking Apollo himself. But let’s not forget the raison d'être of this marvelous body - it was all for the 11-inch cock that was swinging between my fucking legs. People call it an organ. I call it a fucking muscle for what I'm able to do with it. For the absolute bliss that I'm able to inflict upon the female population of this fine city.

  And right now, I'm wolfing down my eggs and bacon, washing it down with some hand squeezed juice and running out the door. The Royal Press Secretary, a woman named Samantha in St. Livy, had booked a spot for me on Today, USA. I fucking hate Samantha. I know she’s fucking my Dad. But I don’t say anything because she’s the mother of Alicia. And Alicia…Fuck, we’ll talk about her later. Anyways, Samantha has me on some fucking morning show for people who slept well enough the night before to be up and at 'em at 6 in the morning. My interview is scheduled for 6 on the dot, and if I ride fast, I'll be there in fifteen minutes.

  I bound out of the elevator and out of the steel and glass superstructure that I live in and hop on the motorcycle that the valet had brought out for me. It roars to life and I take off down 7th Avenue heading south to Rockefeller Center.

  But first, I have to get through fucking Midtown traffic. Lucky for me, I'm on a bike. Not in a cab or on two feet like the pathetically weak pedestrians.

  "Hey buddy, watch where you're going, will ya?" a Bangladeshi cabbie yells at me as I skirt by between two lanes and zip past him. Whatever. I give him the middle finger and dive forward. The light's yellow, but I put my foot to the gas. I'm going to fucking making it.

  A fucking MAC truck blares its horns at me, just barely missing me as I zoom down 7th Avenue. I laugh to myself and yell as pedestrians get out of my way. Oh yeah, I may be driving on a sidewalk now.

  "Fucking asshole!" some guy in black hoodie yells at me.

  I stop the bike. Did I just hear what I think I heard? I'm maybe twenty feet past him but I get off the bike and turn around. I look at him. Wannabe gangsta. Thinks he Jay-fucking-Z.