Royal Lines (Boston Rebels Book 4) by RJ Scott & V.L. Locey

Author:RJ Scott & V.L. Locey [Scott, RJ & Locey, V.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781785642609
Publisher: Love Lane Books Ltd
Published: 2022-05-19T23:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

Marquis

A glorious week later, I was waiting for an incoming flight at Norstoe International, wearing a smile that seemed to be plastered to my face of late. It wasn’t official that Miller & Miller didn’t win the bid, but I had a feeling they had already made their choice. I wanted Kaleb to tell me, not that it mattered, but also, I didn’t want him to tell me because then I’d have no reason to stay in Norstoe past the hockey game. And I really wanted to spend my entire summer here.

As another plane landed, this one from London, I passed my wait time by scanning social media and posting a selfie looking all glowy and sated—wearing a slick little beanie with a vest and skinny jeans combo—to pass along to the 1.8 million followers I had on IG.

#norstoesummercharitygame #flightsincoming #hockeyhitsnorstoe #blackandqueer

Several days had passed since the walk around the fjord. Kaleb and I had set the royal sheets ablaze. Every night, he snuck into my room, as it was easier for him to come to me than for me to go to him. Bodyguards tended to get pissy if you tried to sneak into a royal bedchamber with a tube of lube and a dildo. Our nights were spent in bliss, our days neck deep in castle restoration talk.

I pushed aside the worry of being found out and reveled like a starving man who had wandered into a buffet. I’d slept with a few men in my time and more than a few women. Women were just easier to come by in the hockey world. Wheeling puck bunnies started when players were young, trust me. And even though gay rights had come a long way, queer athletes walked a fine line for the most part. Be gay, but not too gay, and all would be well. I tended to balk at that, hence my ever present black and queer hashtag. I wanted that shit in everyone’s face when they saw me online. It was who I was. I did not hide things. Well, things other than fucking Prince Kaleb, obviously, but that was for many reasons.

Another flight landing was called. I glanced up, saw that it was from Montréal-Trudeau, and grinned madly. Moral Dunkirk, aka Dunny, had arrived! He was on the first of several incoming flights that I’d signed up to meet. I enjoyed the sight of the big white jet with the red maple leaf rolling into place just a few hundred feet away. I sent a quick text to my father to inform him things were going well and to make sure he had his damn cane, then swallowed down the last of my hot chocolate.

Lifting my backside from the table near a wall of glass in the royal lounge, I stretched to work out the kinks from last night’s round of hot and nasty. I’d pulled a few strings—or Kaleb’s thick cock—and managed to get all the hockey stars cleared to come through the VIP gate.

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