Fairytale Come Alive

  Elle’s head twisted back to face him. “But she wants a dog.”

  “She wants a horse, a trip to Harrods and to be a princess too.”

  He watched as Elle’s eyes drifted over his shoulder and she whispered, “I could do that.”

  And she could.

  Christ, he was fucked.

  His arm gave her a squeeze as his voice gave her a warning, “Elle –”

  Her eyes came back to his. “All except the princess part.”

  “You aren’t buying her a horse.”

  “Okay,” she relented. “Maybe not the horse. You live on a cliff. Horses don’t do cliffs.” Her eyes went unfocused and she finished on a mutter, “I don’t think.” Then she turned to Annie again and called, “Hey Annie, do horses do cliffs?”

  Annie was cuddling against Dougal watching Prentice and Elle but, at Elle’s question, her eyes slid to the side as if contemplating this question.

  Then she looked back at Elle and answered, “Nope.”

  Elle turned to Prentice and declared, “Okay. The horse idea is out.”

  Prentice wanted to laugh. He really did. However there were more pressing things to attend to.

  “You aren’t taking her to Harrods either,” he stated.

  “Why not?”

  Prentice found he had no answer to that. He also found he liked the idea of Elle granting his daughter’s wish.

  He liked it a great deal.

  His hand, curled at her waist, drifted up her side, bringing her closer.

  “All right, baby, you can take Sally to Harrods,” he said softly.

  Her arms shot up in the air and she shouted, “Hurrah!”

  Her exuberance was intoxicating, so much so he decided the night was over.

  His other arm circled her and he brought her closer.

  “Finish your drink, Elle,” he ordered.

  Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, her head tipped to the side and she asked, “Why?”

  “Because it’s time to go home.”

  She rested her body against his, her breasts pressed against his chest, her face close enough to kiss and she asked, “It is?”

  God, she was cute.

  “Definitely,” he said firmly.

  Her eyes moved over his face then they warmed as her body relaxed into his.

  Then she whispered, “Okay.”

  She pulled away and turned, announcing to Annie and Dougal as she reached for her drink, “Prentice says it’s time to go home.”

  “I bet he does,” Annie mumbled through a chuckle.

  “Dougal says it’s time to go home, too,” Dougal declared as he curled Annie closer.

  Annie tilted her head back and looked at her new husband.

  Then she murmured, “Mm.”

  Prentice watched his friend touch his mouth to his wife’s.

  Then he watched his friend’s eyes turn to catch his.

  That was when Prentice realized life’s path took him and Dougal full circle, through a lot of beautiful landscape with a side trip to hell (for Prentice) and just a lot of wandering through hell (for Dougal).

  But, in the end, that path led home.

  Elle finished her drink, they climbed in Harry’s taxi and Harry took them home.

  He walked through the great room, turning off the lamp by the couch on his way, and went into the kitchen. He came up behind Elle who was raiding the cookie jar and circled her waist, his hand sliding across her belly as he pressed against her back, feeling her ass against his thighs and liking it.

  “You want a cookie?” Elle asked, mouth full, her neck twisting so she could look at him.

  “No,” he replied.

  He loved her cookies, he’d never tasted better.

  But, at that moment, his mouth went someplace his tongue preferred to taste.

  And as he ran it the length of her neck from the join of her shoulder to her ear, his body absorbed her tremble.

  “We’re not having sex tonight,” she declared in a breathy voice.

  There it was, the ridiculous decision.

  “We’re no’?” he asked her neck as his hand slid up her midriff.

  “No. No more sex,” she replied, her voice even breathier.

  “Why no’?” he asked before he nipped her earlobe with his teeth.

  Another tremble.

  He grinned against her ear.

  “It’s confusing.” Now her voice was a whisper.

  “Confusing who?” he murmured in her ear as his hand reached her breast and his fingers curled around it.

  “Confusing…” she started and then sucked in breath when his thumb slid across her nipple.

  No tremble this time. Instead, he took her body weight and had to slide his other arm along her waist to keep her standing.

  “Elle?” Prentice prompted in her ear, “Confusing who?”

  His finger joined his thumb and he rolled her taut nipple between the two.

  Her upper body reared into his.

  God, he loved how responsive she was.

  “Wh… what?” she stammered, very breathy this time.

  He was enjoying this.

  He braced her weight with his body and his other hand undid the belt of her jeans. Then he undid the button. Then he slid down the zip.

  All the while he did this, he reminded her, “You said it’s confusing. I’d like to know what’s confusing.”

  His hand left her breast but went under her shirt.

  “Um…” she replied, hesitated then her head fell back to his shoulder as his fingers pulled her bra down and he found her nipple again at the same time the fingers of his other hand found her wetness.

  So wet.

  So responsive.

  Yes, he loved that about her.

  “Baby?” he prompted her again for her answer.

  Her hips ground down on his hand.

  He smiled against her ear again.

  “The children,” she whispered.

  “If they wake, I’ll hear them.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Relax,” he coaxed.

  The fingers of his hands moved.

  She relaxed.

  Completely.

  Except her hips moved against his hand.

  “Pren,” she breathed, her neck and torso twisting toward him.

  She wanted his mouth.

  “Elle, baby, I’ll no’ kiss you.”

  Her hand encouragingly cupped his at her breast over the fabric of her t-shirt as her hips rocked against his fingers.

  “I want you to kiss me,” she whispered between breaths coming fast.

  He liked that she wanted that.

  And he’d give her what she wanted.

  Just later.

  “But I want to watch you come.”

  He listened to her quiet moan and ground his hard groin against her ass.

  “Okay,” she yielded softly.

  In the catalogue of things he wanted to do to Elle, Prentice ticked off the selection of making (and watching) her come in the kitchen.

  When he’d done this and her breathing had slowed, he cupped her sex but took his hand from her breast and put it to her jaw, twisting her beautiful face to his.

  Then he kissed her.

  Then he carried her to bed.

  Then he took off her clothes and smoothed one of her short, sexy, silky nightgowns over her body (another item in his catalogue).

  Then he disrobed and took her to bed.

  Feeling the satin against his chest, her ass tucked tight in his lap, their legs cocked together and their fingers linked, he realized belatedly that tonight at the pub, Elle had been Elle.

  His Elle.

  All night.

  And the heavy warmth that always hit his gut when he was reminded of his Elle hadn’t hit him.

  It had already been there, all night.

  And all day too.

  His fingers tensed in hers.

  “Pren?” she mumbled sleepily.

  “Aye?”


  “What about you?”

  He liked it that she asked. And he liked it that, even sleepy and intoxicated, she asked it in a way that sounded like she cared.

  “You can take care of me tomorrow.”

  She snuggled her ass deeper into his lap and he reconsidered that decision.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  Then almost immediately he felt her body shift into sleep.

  He pulled her close, listened to her steady breathing and decided to stick with his decision.

  * * * * *

  Prentice woke when the bed bounced.

  He knew what that bounce meant.

  Elle woke as well.

  She likely had no idea.

  He rolled to his back and went up on a hand, looking toward the foot of the bed.

  He felt Elle get up on her elbow.

  Then he heard her gasp.

  “Morning!” Sally, who was on her knees at the end of the bed holding a struggling Blackie in her arms, shouted.

  “Oh my God,” Elle whispered, her body locking.

  “When can we have pancakes?” Sally asked Elle, showing no reaction in the slightest that she was disturbed she’d found Prentice in Elle’s bed.

  Elle emitted a strangled noise.

  Prentice bit back laughter.

  Instead of laughing, to Sally he muttered, “Come here, baby.”

  Elle jerked in surprise at his words but Sally released Blackie without delay and crawled up Prentice’s body.

  Sally had been doing this nearly every Saturday and Sunday (and other days besides) for as long as she could climb on his bed.

  As Sally moved, Prentice laid back at the same time he pushed an arm under Elle’s body and curled her around so her front was pressed to his side. Then his arm locked and his fingers curved securely at her waist, holding her to him. His other arm went around his daughter as she collapsed on his chest.

  “Are we going to have pancakes?” Sally asked him.

  “In awhile,” Prentice answered.

  Sally looked at Elle. “Can I have choco-chips in mine?”

  Elle was up on an elbow, her other hand pushing against Prentice’s chest, her hips unsuccessfully resisting his hold, her horrified eyes were on Sally.

  “I… erm, I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

  “Blueberries?” Sally enquired, tilting her head so she could rest her cheek on Prentice’s chest but her eyes were still on Elle.

  Suddenly, Elle’s body ceased its resistance and her face grew soft. For a moment, she simply gazed at Sally.

  Then she replied in a tone as soft as her face, “You can have blueberries.”

  It was then Sally reached out and stroked Elle’s hair. At his daughter’s touch, Elle’s eyes slowly closed and Prentice’s heart clutched at the look of longing exposed on her beautiful face.

  Isabella Evangelista was the woman that everyone thought had everything.

  Seeing that look, Prentice realized she had a handful of good friends.

  And, as far as he could tell, not one fucking thing else.

  “You have pretty hair,” Sally whispered, still stroking Elle’s hair.

  Elle’s eyes opened. Her hand at Prentice’s chest lifted, her fingers caught a lock of Sally’s hair and started twisting it.

  “So do you, Sally.”

  Prentice felt like he’d become invisible. He didn’t mind, not even a little.

  He let them have their moment then Prentice gave his daughter a squeeze and said, “Go watch telly, baby. Let Daddy and Elle sleep in awhile.”

  Sally stopped stroking Elle’s hair, her head darted up to look at him and Elle’s body went solid again.

  “Telly?” Sally breathed.

  “Yes, telly,” Prentice replied.

  “But you don’t like us watching telly,” Sally reminded him.

  He pulled her up his chest so her face was closer to his. “This morning, you get an hour of telly.”

  Sally lifted up with both her hands pressed in Prentice’s chest and she shouted, “Hurrah!”

  Then she scrambled out of the bed, not about to miss the unusual opportunity to waste time in front of the television.

  “Close the door,” Prentice called, rolling to Elle who had immediately begun struggling. Sally closed the door and Prentice shouted, “Close the other one too.”

  “Okay!” Sally shouted back before he heard the other door slam.

  Then his full attention diverted to Elle because now she was full on struggling.

  “Elle, relax.”

  Her body went still and she stared at him.

  Then she breathed, “Relax?”

  His face went into her neck and, with lips below her ear he replied, “Yes, relax.”

  “I can’t relax!” she snapped then started struggling again. “Oh my God, I can’t believe that just happened! Sally caught us in bed.”

  He rolled on top of her to control her thrashing, caught her flailing wrists and pinned them to the bed beside her head. His face neared hers and he touched her lips with his.

  “Baby, relax. It’s okay,” he assured her.

  She glared up at him.

  Then, eyes wide with horror and disbelief, she declared, “It is not okay!”

  He grinned, “Why no’?”

  “She’s going to freak!”

  Prentice started chuckling.

  “This isn’t funny!” Elle clipped.

  Prentice was still smiling when he asked, “Did Sally look upset to you?”

  He watched as Elle’s horrified face became thoughtful before she replied, “Well… no.”

  “She’s no’ going to freak. She’ll be fine.” His head bent and his mouth went back to her neck. “She loves you,” he said there.

  And he meant it.

  He figured Elle didn’t hear him or didn’t process what he said because her wrists pushed against his. He pressed her wrists deeper into the bed.

  She stopped pushing but declared, “Prentice, I know how this works. Sure, she seems fine now. But in fifteen years when she’s standing on top of a clocktower with an automatic rifle mowing down innocent bystanders, don’t call me asking what went wrong.”

  At the thought of his effervescent Sally picking off innocent bystanders in a murderous rampage, Prentice burst into laughter as he rolled to his back, taking Elle with him. Her hands released, Elle immediately pushed up on his chest. His arms locked around her waist, holding her captive.

  She stopped pushing and glared down at him. “I need to get up. I need to make pancakes. I need to find out how to erase Sally’s memory.”

  He grinned at her and said, “Sally doesn’t need her memory erased.”

  She wasn’t listening.

  She was looking at the headboard muttering, “I’m sure the military has something. Who do I know in the military?”

  He was back to laughing when his hand slid up her spine, into her hair and he bent her head to his, maneuvering it so his mouth was at her ear.

  Softly, he ordered, “Forget about mind control drugs. You have more pressing things to see to this morning.”

  Her head twisted and she looked at him. “Yes? And those would be?”

  His other hand caught hers and guided it between their bodies. Then he curled her fingers around his stiff cock.

  Her eyes grew wide the moment before they went dazed.

  There it was.

  He had her.

  “That,” he whispered.

  “We can’t do that,” she whispered back but her hand moved, forming a tight fist, her thumb sliding over the tip.

  Christ.

  Magnificent.

  “We can,” he groaned.

  “What if the kids –?”

  “They won’t.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Aye.”

  Her hand stroked then her thumb circled the tip.

  Prentice gritted his teeth.

  Her mouth went to his neck and she whispered, “We’ll be fast.”


  “You go fast, baby, there’ll be consequences.”

  Her head came up, her hand stroked and his body liked it so much his hips involuntarily bucked.

  When her eyes met his, he demanded on a rumble, “I want your mouth to work me and I want it to work me slow.”

  Her lips parted, her eyes glazed, her hand clutched his cock tightly, he growled and she breathed, “But… pancakes.”

  “We have an hour.”

  “But –”

  His hand fisted in her hair and he forced her mouth to his.

  Then he kissed her.

  When he was done, his voice throaty, he ordered, “Slow.”

  “Okay,” she agreed immediately.

  Then her face disappeared in his neck and she used her mouth on him, going to his collarbone then down his chest. He pushed himself up so his shoulders were against the headboard as she went further down.

  Then further down.

  Then further.

  His hands gathered her hair and pulled it back just in time to watch Elle slide his cock into her mouth.

  Then he watched as Elle, in her sexy, satin and lace nightie worked him.

  Slow.

  It was magnificent.

  * * * * *

  He lost her.

  And Prentice knew it was the fucking photographers.

  He’d had her. She was back.

  Entirely.

  Then she slid away.

  And, as the day progressed, she retreated more and more until he lost her.

  They were late leaving the guest suite because, after Elle took care of Prentice with her mouth, Prentice took care of Elle in the shower with his fingers.

  Then, considering she smelled like lilies of the valley, she looked so fucking sexy with her hair wet and he hadn’t had his cock inside her for over twenty-four hours, he took care of both of them in the bed.

  She’d been collapsed on top of him, her face in his neck, her breath had slowed, her bodyweight fully relaxed and heavy on him, his cock still hard and imbedded in her wetness, when she suddenly jerked up.

  She stared at him in panic and shrieked, “Pancakes!”

  Then in a flurry of movement, she exited the bed and ran around the room, pulling on underwear (which was, he noted, rolling to his side and watching her, just as sexy as her nighties), then spritzing with perfume, then yanking on a t-shirt.

  She was hopping around trying to get in her jeans when her eyes hit him.

  “Pren, what are you doing?” she demanded to know.

  “I’m enjoying the show,” he replied.