To kiss him. To make love to him.
He leads me down a wide, ornate hallway. Every ten feet or so, heavy chandeliers hang from the ceiling, dripping thousands of crystals that give the whole palace an ethereal glow. The walls have carved paneling and intricate paintings dotted along the way.
When we get to the Great Hall, my breath catches in my throat. The ceiling is so high I can barely make it out. My heels clack loudly on the polished tile floors, and Prince Damon leads me out to the center of the room. He spins me in a slow circle, letting me take in the sheer size of the room. When we stand still again, my eyes come to rest on something at the far side of the room.
The throne.
Red velvet covers the broad seat and high back. It looks like it’s made of solid gold.
“I’ve only ever seen pictures of this place,” I breathe. “I had no idea it was this… rich.”
“You get used to it,” Damon says, shrugging. “It’s the Crown’s money, not mine. Not to sound ungrateful, but sometimes I wish I wasn’t part of all this at all. Simple things—like who my brothers and I date—become really, really complicated.”
“Money can always and everywhere be spent, and, moreover, forbidden fruit is sweetest of all.” I glance at the Prince as a smile tugs at his lips.
I grin. “Dostoyevsky.”
“I figured,” he says. “Does that make you the forbidden fruit?” Prince Damon’s hands slide over my hips and he pulls me close to him. We sway from side to side in the center of the huge room as his hands drift to the small of my back.
I love how broad he is, and how strong he feels against me. How did I ever think he was a goodie-two-shoes? How did I think he was strait-laced?
Prince Damon is as bad as they come. I could taste it on his lips when we kissed. There’s more to this man than I could have guessed.
My fingers trace the outline of his pecs through his white shirt, sliding up to hook around the back of the Prince’s neck. He pulls me closer, so that my chest presses against his.
My whole body starts to thrum. My breath catches, and my heart thumps. Prince Damon’s hands drift down to the top of my ass and I roll my hips toward him almost involuntarily.
I know I shouldn’t be here. I know there’s history between our two families, and I know that Prince Damon and I aren’t even dating for real—it’s just to help out Elle and Prince Charlie.
But right now, in the silence of the throne room, with the Prince’s arms wrapped around me and my pulse thundering through my veins, it feels real. Very, very real.
“Your Highness…”
“Will you call me Damon, please? You were calling me Prince Damon and Your Highness at dinner. It’s not exactly something my girlfriend would do.”
“Am I your girlfriend?” I grin. “I thought we were just pretending.”
“Well, we might as well pretend all the way, shouldn’t we?” His voice is a low growl. His eyes darken. The Prince’s hands pull me closer until my body is fused against his.
And… I like it.
This is exactly where I want to be. Even if I’m not supposed to, even if his family is supposedly dangerous. Even if my mother would have a fit if she knew where I was.
Even if I’m cursed.
Right now, none of that matters.
Prince Damon leans down and presses his lips to mine. He’s gentle, soft, and slow. He teases my lips open, swiping his tongue across mine as if he’s asking permission.
He doesn’t need to ask. My grip on his neck tightens, and I pull him closer. I kiss him back more fiercely as my heart starts to race, thumping against my ribcage as if it’s trying to escape.
The Prince’s hands press harder into me, one of them sliding down to the cleft of my ass and the other sliding up my spine, sending tingles of pleasure exploding through my body. I melt into him, moaning against him as he claims my lips.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.
But I’m here—and I’m horny.
I want Prince Damon more than I’ve wanted any other man. I haven’t even looked at anyone else since he walked through my front door. Elle hasn’t been kept awake by my squeaking bedsprings, and I haven’t had to kick anyone out of my bed in the early hours of the morning.
No, I’ve been too busy dreaming about the Prince. Too busy hoping to taste his lips again. Too busy imagining what he looks like without any clothes on.
Too busy wondering what it would feel like to have his cock buried deep inside me.
My fingers tangle into his hair, and his hands start to claw at the bottom of my dress. He pulls it up over my hips and grabs my bare ass with both hands.
“Fuck,” he growls. “You are so perfect.”
“No one is perfect,” I say, nipping his bottom lip.
“Well, your ass is perfect.” He gives it a squeeze and a light smack that echoes through the Great Hall.
I laugh, and Prince Damon crushes his lips to mine. He kisses me possessively as his hands stay welded to my ass. He spreads my cheeks and pulls me closer as his lips devour mine.
Electricity crackles between us. My body is on fire. I moan into his mouth and his hand flies to the nape of my neck, tilting my head back as he kisses my jaw, my neck, my collarbone.
In one smooth motion, Prince Damon picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. I yelp in surprise and he gives my ass a smack, growling. It’s like we can’t even manage words anymore—just wild, animalistic noises.
The Prince starts stalking toward the far end of the room, and my heart starts to hammer. There’s only one thing in the direction he’s going—the throne.
“Your High—”
“Damon,” he interrupts as he smacks my ass again. I inhale sharply. Pain turns to pleasure as it crackles across my skin.
“Damon,” I say, looking up as he carries me. “Where are you…?”
The Prince hauls me off his shoulder and drops me down right onto the rich, red velvet of the King’s throne. I gasp, trying to jump up.
“I can’t—”
“Sit,” the Prince commands. His lips crush mine again, forcing me back down onto the one chair in the Kingdom I have no right to sit on.
“Damon, if anyone walks in…”
“They won’t.” His voice is low. He leans over me to a small console near the right side of the throne. Tapping a few keys, I hear a beep and then a soft click.
“We’re locked in,” he says. “No one will interrupt us.”
His eyes are hooded and dark, and heat gathers in the pit of my stomach. “Why…” I frown, gulping down another breath. “Why do the doors lock from the inside like that?”
“The main ballroom doubles as a safety bunker in case the palace is ever under attack,” Damon says with a grin. “So, we’re alone. You can relax.”
His hands move to my thighs, and he kneels in front of the throne. Slowly, torturously, he slides his palms up under my dress toward my hips. My breath catches. The Prince drags his eyes up to mine as his tongue slides out to lick his lips.
“You’re incredible, Dahlia,” he breathes. “From the moment I saw you, I needed to have you.”
Damon’s hands reach my thin, lacy underwear. He teases the outside of the gusset with both his thumbs as his palms stay on my thighs. I whimper, spreading my legs as he touches me. My hands grip the arms of the throne and I bite my lip.
There are so many things wrong with this. Sitting on the throne could have me arrested, for one.
But Damon says we’re alone, and he’s looking at me like he wants to eat me alive. My breath hitches, and his thumbs drag down across the fabric of my panties again.
“Your Highness…” I sigh, spreading my legs wider. My body is acting of its own accord. His hands grip my thighs and pull me toward the edge of the throne. He grips my legs and pulls them apart, and then flips my dress up to my waist. A low growl rumbles through his chest and I gulp down another breath.
Prince Damon dips his head d
own and lays a soft kiss on top of my panties. His tongue darts out and licks the crease of my hip. I arch my back. My breath is ragged, my panties are almost soaked through. All I can think of is how much I want him.
Need him.
With one hand, he teases the gusset of my underwear again. I tremble, whimpering at the touch. My fingers dig into the throne, its soft velvet crushing under my grip. My nipples pucker under my dress, rubbing against the fabric of my bra. Every sensation is heightened. Every stitch of fabric scratches at my skin, and Damon’s hands burn where they touch me.
Prince Damon grins. His fingers slide beneath my panties and when he feels my wetness, he lets out a soft sigh.
“Dahlia, you’re so wet,” he says gently, dragging his eyes back up to mine. His fingers slide up and down my slit, sending pleasure pulsing through my veins.
My legs are trembling. My fingers grip the throne with all my might as he slides a finger inside me. I gasp, arching my back toward him as his thumb starts circling my clit.
“You didn’t tell me you were this wet.” His voice is almost chastising, and it’s embarrassing how much I like it. He circles my clit with his thumb, dragging another finger in and out of my opening.
I whimper. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder if I’m ruining the velvet seat of the throne.
But it doesn’t matter. None of that matters. All that matters is Prince Damon’s heady gaze as he watches himself pleasure me, and the feeling of his thick, strong hands fucking me as I sit atop the throne. My underwear is bunched to one side, the fabric adding another layer to the sensation that’s becoming almost too much.
I gasp as his thumb presses harder on my bud, but it doesn’t last long. In an instant, his lips are on my clit and he’s dragging his tongue through my sopping wet slit.
He groans in pleasure, and the fact that he’s enjoying this almost sends me over the edge. I’ve been with so many guys who wouldn’t even go near me with their mouth—but not Damon.
Prince Damon hooks his fingers into my panties and rips them down my legs. His hands grip my calves and he lifts my legs up, spreading them wide and staring at me. Splayed out for him, I don’t feel embarrassed. I don’t feel shy.
All I feel is desire.
“I told you—you’re perfect,” he sighs. His eyes drag up to mine and I suck a breath in through my teeth. I don’t know what to say. My body is pulsing with need and all I can think of is how much I want his lips on me again.
As if he reads my thoughts, Prince Damon hooks my legs over his shoulders and drops his head down. I tangle my fingers into his hair, arching my back and grinding my hips into his face.
He moans, kissing and sucking and licking me until I can’t even see straight. His fingers pump inside me again and again as his mouth claims my bud, urging me closer and closer to the edge. I buck and arch and writhe against him, my pastel locks clinging to the velvet back of the throne as my fingers twist into the Prince’s hair.
He growls, sending delicious vibrations through my center as his fingers find my most sensitive spot.
“Come for me, Dahlia,” the Prince says. “Come on my tongue. I want to taste you.” He licks me again, dragging his eyes up to mine. “Come on top of that throne like the dirty girl I know you are.”
I whimper, my eyes widening. He licks me again as his fingers thrust in and out of me.
“Come for me, Princess,” Damon commands.
“I’m not a pri—” His head drops back down between my legs and he rips the words right out of my mouth. An orgasm crashes through my body as the Prince of Farcliff devours me. I sit half-naked on the throne, my dress bunched around my hips and my underwear lost somewhere below us.
My back arches as heat blazes through me. My legs stiffen and a silent scream spreads my lips. I grip the Prince’s hair with both hands and grind his face against my slit as pleasure rocks through my body like never before. I’m a gushing, sopping-wet, trembling mess.
Finally, my voice starts to work again, and I let out a moan. The Prince doesn’t stop what he’s doing. He works his mouth and his hand until he’s covered in my honey, moaning in pleasure until I have to push him away.
Everything is too sensitive to touch now.
If I ever thought Damon Farcliff was a play-by-the-rules kind of guy, I was royally-fucking-wrong. He is bad in the best possible way. He’s rough, and filthy, and the opposite of clean-cut. He’s a savage, and all I know right now is that I want every bit of him.
Damon’s lips are swollen and glistening, and his eyes promise more. He leans over my limp, broken body and kisses me. I taste myself on his lips, melting into the throne as he wraps his arms around me once again.
10
DAMON
DESPITE HOW IT MIGHT SEEM, I didn’t plan this. But now that we’re here and Dahlia is a multicolored, sopping-wet mess on top of the Throne of Farcliff, I’m not mad.
This is definitely the hottest thing I’ve ever done.
Dahlia reaches between my legs and lets out a soft gasp when she feels my hardness. I’m practically bursting out of my pants.
How else would I be? The woman of my dreams just came for me, on my command, when I held her down on top of the throne. Her legs clamped around my ears and her whole body convulsed as I tasted her orgasm for the first time.
Of course I’m fucking hard.
She glances up at me and then unzips my pants. My cock springs free and Dahlia slides my pants and underwear down. Her delicate fingers wrap around my shaft and a lump forms in my throat.
No, I didn’t plan this. Yes, I’m one hundred percent happy with the outcome.
I watch her lips part, and mine open in response. Her tongue swipes across her lower lip, and I do the same to my own. I can still taste her orgasm on my lips, and it makes my cock throb in her hands. She smiles, flicking her eyes up to mine.
I would watch this girl hold my cock in her hand any day of the week.
When she closes her eyes and takes my crown in her mouth, I nearly lose my mind. Her mouth is warm, and wet, and so fucking perfect it makes my head spin. She sucks my cock deep down into her throat and I lean over to catch myself on the back of the throne. My eyes stayed glued on this perfect pixie girl as she works her lips up and down the length of my shaft.
I don’t remember the last time I was this turned on. My cock throbs against her lips as she swipes her tongue over the tip. My shaft is glistening with her saliva as she wraps her fingers around the base, squeezing gently as her tongue continues to tease me.
Holy-fucking-Farcliff, Dahlia Raventhal is unreal. My pulse is hammering. My arm is trembling as I hold myself up on the back of the throne. I can’t do anything except stare at her mouth as she takes my length inside it once more.
When her eyes dart up to mine and her lips curl into a smile, I almost explode. All I want to do is pull my cock away and cover her in ropes of my cum. Across her plump, pink lips, over her flushed cheeks, into her pastel hair. If she keeps looking at me like that, it won’t take long for me to do just that.
I grunt when she pumps her hand up and down my shaft and take a step back.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You okay?”
“I’m good,” I say, gulping down a breath of air. “I’m better than good.”
Sweeping my arms around her, I lift her up off the throne so she’s standing in front of me, and I crush my lips against hers. I curl my hand into her hair and pull it back until she gasps, and then I take her lips again. Dahlia rolls her hips toward me and I can’t wait any longer.
I reach to the back of her dress and pull down the long zipper that goes down the length of her spine. She pushes my pants off the rest of the way and I kick them away. I kiss her again, more frantically this time. I need her. Dahlia reaches for my shirt, but I put my hand over hers to stop her.
She frowns. “What?”
“Just—leave it on.”
“You’re self-conscious?” Her hands feel my body through my shirt. “Because let
me tell you, Your Highness, you don’t have to be. Your body is gorgeous.”
I smile, kissing her. I can’t tell her that I don’t want her to see my scars, my bruises—the evidence of the darkness inside me. As close as I feel to her, I’m not ready to show her that side of me.
We spin around and I fall back onto the throne, sitting in the one seat that will never be mine.
Dahlia’s eyes sweep down to my cock, and then she unclasps her bra and lets it fall to the floor. She stands in front of me as I sit on the throne, and for just a moment, we stare at each other.
Her pubic hair is a neatly trimmed, perfectly shaped pastel rainbow, and all I want to do is watch my cock driving in and out of it. Dahlia reaches over to me, sliding her hand over my cock again.
I can’t wait any longer. I grab her by the waist and pull her on top of me. Her legs nestle in next to mine, and that multicolored slit brushes up against my hardened cock.
I shiver in anticipation and my breath catches. My chest is heaving. My hands sink into her thighs.
Dahlia reaches between us and angles my cock against her opening. When she sinks down onto it, we both exhale in unison.
Buried inside her to the hilt, I pause. I can feel her body adjusting to my girth, stretching and pulsing and squeezing me as she lets out a sigh. Dahlia’s hands slide over my shoulders and her eyes meet mine. A smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and I know I’m in heaven.
I thrust myself into her—hard. She yelps, squeezing my shoulders and falling into me. Her lips brush my neck as I drive myself inside her again and again. Dahlia catches herself, then, and uses the throne behind me to lift herself up.
Then, I learn just how wild Dahlia Raventhal really is. She bounces on my cock like no one I’ve ever seen. She hangs off the throne of Farcliff and spears herself with my shaft, gasping and whimpering as our bodies collide. Her tits bounce, her back arches, her legs buck, and we fuck each other hard and fast.
My breath is ragged and my heart is on the verge of exploding in my chest.
Heartless Prince: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected Book 2) Page 6