by Lola Gabriel
Slowly, Marcus drew back, his body trembling, and he pivoted his head toward the quivering mass on the floor. As if she could suddenly feel his eyes boring into her, Addison deliberately lifted her chin, her face gaunt with apprehension.
Don’t look away, he willed, hoping she would understand. I’m still the same man.
As if she could hear his thoughts, Addison’s eyes latched onto his, and their gazes remained locked together. Marcus watched as her anxiety seemed to melt away, and he allowed himself to fall back into his mortal form.
Addison’s eyes widened in awe.
“How—why—I don’t understand…” she murmured, still frozen in place. Marcus shook his head.
“It’s not easily explained,” he told her hoarsely, offering her a hand.
For a heart-stopping moment, he thought she was going to refuse, but she reached up and accepted it, easily rising to her feet.
Shakily, Addison threw herself into Marcus’ arms, and they embraced sweetly, their lips meeting hungrily. Marcus was flooded with relief.
She still wanted him, even knowing all his flaws and secrets.
How could I have been so blind to what I had all this time? he wondered, his arms enclosing around her waist and drawing her tightly to his body.
All Marcus knew was that, if she would let him back in, he would never leave her again.
18
Despite what Addison had just seen, there was no resistance in her body as Marcus’ hot breath warmed her prickled skin. They fell to the floor, entangled in one another, a long-familiar sensation of passion sweeping through her as his fingers worked against the buttons of her blouse.
“I’ve missed you,” she exhaled, and his shuddering sigh told her he felt the same.
As his chin dropped to taste her waiting nipples, Addison lifted herself onto her elbows, peering at him with naked adoration, shivers coursing through her slim frame. His tongue teased the rigid skin, and one of her hands fell into Marcus’ blonde head.
“Is what they said true?” she murmured, her red hair falling into her face as her bun came loose.
“I don’t want to talk about them,” Marcus muttered, his hands cupping her round rear, sliding the material of her pants along her hips.
“Are you in love with me?”
Marcus lifted his head, freezing in place, and Addison suddenly wished she had not asked the question.
Why did you ruin it? she scolded herself. You could have enjoyed one more time with him, one last time…
“I have been in love with you all along,” Marcus told her gruffly. “I was just too blind and too stubborn to acknowledge it.”
Addison gasped and fell back, happiness filling her to match the desire in her loins.
She was exposed in seconds, nude and vulnerable beneath Marcus’ huge form, his face rising to meet hers as she wrapped her legs about his hips, pulling him near to feel the tip of his hardness against her core.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” Addison purred, her hips reaching upward, urging his massive shaft inward, but Marcus only slid himself against the slick cleft, deliciously rubbing her already pulsating clit.
“I know what you do to me,” he growled, and without warning, he plunged deep inside her.
Addison screamed out at the unexpected thrust, her ankles locking around his buttocks.
“Oh, my god!” she moaned as he thrust into her, his hips making wide, intense circles, as if to touch every part of her insides. Addison’s fingers dug into his rippled shoulders, and she idly realized he was as naked as she was, although she had no idea how he had gotten that way. “Harder,” she gasped. “Harder, Marcus—”
Marcus’ blue eyes constricted, and he studied her face with mild surprise. His pace intensified, and Addison clung to him, her nails cutting through the flesh of his back as her calves began to spasm. She yelped as he delved into her, reaching her in only places he had known. Addison felt the inevitable orgasm building inside her. Against her swollen center, Marcus’ sack grew taut, still slapping against her as his grunts met her breathless cries.
Suddenly, Addison could take no more, squealing as she shuddered against her lover’s engorged member. His seed rushed out to meet her climax as they fell into a writhing pile of limbs, trembling and moaning.
Addison buried her nose in his neck, feeling the racing pulse against her mouth. She locked her lips against his throat, sucking back the lines of sweat dripping from him, and Marcus shuddered one last time.
They lay in silence, relishing the feel of the other, their heartbeats synching as they inevitably slowed. For a few moments, Addison felt as if she had melded into Marcus, becoming the part of him that she had longed to become for so long.
“I will never hurt you again,” Marcus finally murmured, and Addison felt a rush of pleasure at the words, knowing them to be true.
Gradually, he lifted his toned shoulders and looked at her, his vivid eyes searching her face as if memorizing her for the first time.
“Will you move in with me?” he asked her quietly.
Addison’s heart quickened. “I can’t be just another woman to you,” she admitted, willing her voice not to crack. “I’m not going to let you put me in your ivory tower and parade me around like a trophy.”
Marcus shook his head vehemently. “Haven’t you been paying attention?” he joked lightly. “You are nothing like another woman to me. You are my soulmate, and I will never let you forget that. I don’t want you to move back into the penthouse. I want you to be in with me. I want you live in my home in the Bridle Path. There will never be another woman other than you. It’s as if I have been waiting for you my whole life.”
Addison swallowed the lump in her throat.
“I don’t blame you for worrying,” he softly continued. “But I have never lied to you, Addison, and I never will.”
“What about the others?” she questioned. “Even if you give them up, we’ll never be free of them.”
Marcus chuckled dryly. “You leave that to me,” he told her, leaning forward to kiss her lips as he slowly slipped out of her.
Addison clenched to keep him in place, sighing with disappointment as he fell from her, a trickle of their passion sliding down her leg. “Is what Melissa said true? You can’t harm anyone unless you’re threatened?” He nodded, his intelligent eyes watching her.
“It is our honor,” Marcus replied. “We cannot strike directly unless we have been struck first.” But something glimmered in his eye, and Addison could see he was holding some information back.
“But?” she urged.
“But there is always a way around it,” he replied simply. “Just leave it to me.”
Epilogue
Three Months Later
Tatiana knocked on the door, entering before Marcus could wave her in.
“Have you seen our budget numbers this quarter?” she asked, tossing the ledger at him.
“Should I leave?” Addison asked, rising from her desk.
“No!” they responded in unison, and she sat again, smiling to herself. Oh, how things had changed in the past three months.
Addison had taken on Melissa’s old role as Marcus’ personal assistant, assuming the responsibilities of running his hectic day-to-day schedule from his side. But not once was she treated like a trophy, nor did she feel under-stimulated, her days chaotic and filled with endless activity. She visited the diner often, mostly because she liked spending time with Ramon and Olivia.
Marcus gave Addison the penthouse, and she allowed Janine and Roscoe to live in the swanky apartment for as long as they wanted to reside there. Addison had expected an argument from Marcus, but he seemed pleased that she was happy.
She was happy, truly, blissfully content.
There was no doubt in her mind that Marcus loved her, and she was madly in love with him. He showed her his affection for her in every possible way, showering her with gifts, spending every night with her, and whisking her away to his cottage or the Ca
ribbean Isles for the weekend.
I guess I was wrong about who can find a Prince Charming, she thought to herself.
She hadn’t seen the dragon in Marcus since the encounter in his office, but she knew the beast was there, and it excited her to no end. Sometimes, she fantasized about ways to unleash it again.
I will see that side of him another time, she vowed.
“Why do we have such an influx in our liquid assets?” Tatiana demanded, and Marcus chuckled.
“You’re never happy, are you?” he laughed. “It’s too much. It’s too little. Make up your mind, Tatiana!”
“I’m not complaining!” she retorted. “I am just asking where it came from.”
Tatiana turned to look at Addison, and she shot her gaze back to the computer, her ears growing hot. Along with the changes had come a developing friendship with Tatiana, something she would never have imagined for herself.
“Do you know anything about this?” Tatiana demanded.
Addison shook her head, blushing at the lie. She would let Marcus tell Tatiana about everything he had done to ensure Addison felt secure that she was the only one.
“I got rid of the excess staff and apartments, as per your request last quarter,” Marcus replied, redirecting her attention to him. “That’s what you’re seeing.”
“I am seeing over two million dollars!” she cried. “Did Melissa put the stolen money back in the wrong accounts?”
“No,” he said slowly. “I’m sure she did precisely as she was told.”
Tatiana eyed the couple suspiciously. “Does this have anything to do with those fires in the buildings you own, Marcus?”
“Hmm? Oh, no of course not. I just couldn’t bring myself to put in an insurance claim on that. What a freak accident that was,” he commented flippantly, and Addison swallowed.
Freak accident indeed, she mused, thinking about how Melissa and Tavia had been uprooted from their residences due to undetermined fires on the same night. She could still hear Marcus talking to the girls on a speaker that night.
“And if I should happen to so much as hear your names in southern Ontario,” he had nearly snarled, “you can be assured there will be more fires for everyone. Because you’re right, Missy. I can’t harm you, but I can harm every single thing you own. Am I clear, ladies?”
A strangled consensus came through the speaker, and Melissa and Tavia were no longer a problem.
“You really spent this much on your… staff?” Tatiana asked him, again glancing at Addison.
Marcus shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve found that I’m much happier now that we’ve trimmed away the excess expenses,” he said pleasantly. “Should we do lunch today?”
Tatiana scowled at the abrupt change in conversation, but as Addison expected, she nodded.
“I’m in the mood for Thai food,” she told them, and Marcus agreed.
“Thai food, Addy?” he asked, rising to grab his jacket from the coatrack in the corner.
“I should finish this—”
“You should do what your boss tells you,” he replied, winking, and Tatiana bobbed her head.
“You really should,” she conceded.
Addison giggled and stood up from her chair, hurrying to take Marcus’ outstretched arm.
“You’re an all right boss,” she whispered as Tatiana slipped out the door, the couple close behind.
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” Marcus responded, pausing to stare into her eyes. At that moment, Addison knew she was the most protected woman in the world, and the realization turned her on to no end.
Perhaps she could convince him to have a few minutes to themselves before lunch.
Royal Mate
Misty Woods Dragons
Royal Mate
Text Copyright © 2018 by Juniper Hart
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
First printing, 2017
Publisher
Secret Woods Books
[email protected]
www.SecretWoodsBooks.com
1
The wind had picked up significantly, and Poet struggled to keep the umbrella from flying away as she hurried toward the steps. She was having little success in controlling anything that morning, and the black gamp in her drenched palms was no exception. There wasn’t much she could do now about the fact that she was running late; she knew that Professor Kincaid would likely subject her to ridicule.
I suppose it’s all part of the fun, she thought wryly. Despite her resolve to remain optimistic, she was not feeling overly amused.
It had been quite a rough morning all around: her Uber had gotten hopelessly lost through the construction on the Western Bypass, rerouting them in a way even Poet did not know. For all the years she had already been in this country, she still couldn’t get her mind around the roadways. Her island was so much different than this one.
The bad road planning itself had only been an aftermath to how she had been woken: with Chauncey vomiting all over a Persian rug Poet had inherited from her late Aunt Stella.
The woman must be spinning in her grave right now, she thought. She always hated Chauncey and loved that stupid carpet. That’s probably why he puked on it in the first place.
In a way, having slept in after hitting snooze on her alarm had been a blessing, but having to clean up after the Cocker Spaniel had done nothing except make her waste more time. Poet had found herself flying out the door in a panic.
Now she was so late, she half-considered blowing off her anthropology class altogether and grabbing a coffee in that mess to warm her freezing bones, but she knew it was not going to happen. She enjoyed Professor Kincaid’s lectures far too much to miss a word. Even after she had caught up with his course online, she had seen it wasn’t the same as being actually present, as if the old man’s energy and character made all the difference.
Professor Kincaid was so impassioned about the subject of ancient civilizations, something her other professors lacked, despite their Oxford University credentials. Then again, no one said you had to be interesting to be a scholar.
Poet’s raincoat dripped on the floors as she rushed toward the lecture hall. She only hoped that one day she would not be the same kind of instructor as the others. She strove to be more like Kincaid—except without the excessive and embarrassing tongue-lashings he administered like daily communion.
Her honey-blonde hair was plastered to her head, the umbrella having failed its use miserably in the short jaunt from the parking lot to the Denys Wilkinson Building.
I should not have worn these boots, Poet thought, as if she needed just one more reason to write off the day. The idea of blowing off her lecture appealed to her more and more with every step she took, but she continued to hurry before her desire for caffeine could override her need to learn. Keep going, Poet. You pay good money to attend the world’s best university. The coffee can wait.
“Poet! Hold up a minute!”
Poet turned her head slightly to the side, her blue eyes resting on Nick Taylor as he hurried to catch up to her. Poet didn’t slow her pace.
“Hi!” she said brightly, trying to keep the impatience from her voice. “I’m in a bit of a rush!” It was obvious to anyone with eyes that she was late, but Nick either didn’t care, or he was oblivious to Poet’s quick movements.
“Got class then?” he asked, his thick Cockney accent lacing his words. Poet nodded, offering him a half-smile as she continued to hurry through the halls.
“Professor Kincaid is going to have my head on a platter. This is the second tim
e this week I’ve been late for his class,” she explained. “He likes to make an example out of people like me.”
“He’s a wanker,” Nick volunteered, and Poet chuckled.
“He’s not so bad. At least he cares about what he’s teaching,” she said. “And I like listening to him. You’re not coming today?”
“Nah,” Nick answered. “I prefer my balls intact in the morning. I just got here, too. Maybe I’ll ring you for your notes.”
“If he lets me take any,” Poet chuckled dryly. “Last time someone was late, he refused to let them record a word of his lecture. ‘If I can commit things to memory at my age, so can you!’ he yelled.”
Nick snorted as Poet stopped before her classroom.
“I told you, he’s a total wanker,” he declared. Poet shook her head, trickles of water tickling her neck with the movement.
“He’s still my favorite,” she confessed.
“Meet me at the pub later?” Nick asked hopefully, and she nodded, more to rid herself of him than because she wanted to see him. She had a feeling that he would draw her out for an entire conversation unless she agreed. His unrequited affection for her was sometimes tiresome, but Poet didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
He was a nice guy, after all. Paying him a little bit of attention was not going to kill her. Besides, she would most likely need a drink after today, if her morning so far was any indication of how the rest of her day would turn out.
“Sure,” Poet said. “I have classes until four.”
“Four fifteen,” Nick confirmed. “At the Cloak and Clock.”
Poet didn’t respond, pulling open the door and entering the full lecture room. She cringed as all eyes turned to her, but she shifted her gaze downward and rushed to find a seat.