Without warning, Dahlia spins around so we’re both facing the same way. She leans her back against my chest and grinds herself against me, moaning and letting her head fall against my neck. Her body fits perfectly against mine.
My hands are on her in an instant—one hand across her breast, teasing her nipple. It’s hard as a pebble between my fingers and Dahlia moans when I take it between my thumb and forefinger. My other hand drops between her legs, circling her clit. She rewards me with another whimper, rolling her hips against me as my cock sinks even deeper inside her.
Dahlia’s hands grip the sides of the throne and I fuck her mercilessly. She’s a rag doll on top of me, bouncing at every thrust as I drive myself inside her. I can’t think. I can’t speak, I can’t do anything except focus on her silken walls gripping my shaft and her perfect, petite body pressed against mine.
I don’t want to come yet. This is too good. It’s too intense. Too fucking perfect for me to stop.
So, I don’t.
Not until I feel her walls contract around my shaft. Not until her body stiffens and her toes curl. Not until both her legs are shaking and she lets out the most gorgeous, perfect scream of ecstasy I’ve ever heard.
Only then do I let go. With a roar, I empty myself inside her, splashing my cum deep into her as I clutch Dahlia against me.
The only sound in the throne room is the thumping of my heart and the deep, ragged breaths that Dahlia and I take. We sit atop the throne, naked and speechless.
Finally, Dahlia stirs against me and lays a soft kiss against my neck. She lets out a contented sigh and nuzzles her face against my chest.
“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting that,” she says.
“Neither was I,” I respond, “but I can’t say I hadn’t dreamed about it.”
She chuckles weakly, and then peels herself off me. Squeezing her legs together she shakes her head. “Is there a bathroom nearby? I’ve got to clean this mess up,” she grins.
“Just out that door, but we’d better get dressed first.”
Dahlia leans over to pick up her damp, crumpled-up panties and shakes her head. “You owe me a new pair of undies.”
“I will gladly buy—and ruin—as many pairs of underwear as you want.”
Dahlia laughs, glancing at me sideways as she slips the rest of her clothes on. I do the same, and then tap the console to unlock the doors.
“This way,” I say, glancing once more at the throne. Apart from one damp spot on the seat, it looks untouched—but I know I’ll never look at it the same way again.
Dahlia follows my gaze and a flush creeps over her cheeks. “I can’t believe we just did that.”
A voice calls out from behind the throne.
“Did what?”
Dahlia and I both freeze, and the blood drains from her face. From a doorway behind the throne, Aunt Malerie steps out of the shadows and into the throne room.
11
DAHLIA
MALERIE FARCLIFF GIVES me the creeps, especially when she looks me up and down two minutes after I had the bejeezus screwed out of me on top of the Throne of Farcliff.
I know I’m blushing. I wouldn’t even call it a blush. I’m so red I probably look like I just did an intense sprint in August heat, and also have a sunburn. ‘Tomato’ doesn’t even come close to describing how my face looks right now.
Lady Farcliff steps into the throne room and glances from me, to Damon, and back to me again.
Her eyes are sharp, and her gaze makes me feel naked. Not in the ‘I’m at home and I don’t care who sees’ kind of way. It’s a shameful, embarrassed kind of naked feeling that I’ve never experienced before.
Damon clears his throat. “Aunt Mal,” he says. “Nice to see you.”
I glance over at him and notice two of the buttons on his shirt have come undone, revealing a sliver of his bare chest. I cringe.
It’s painfully obvious what we’ve just been doing, and if Malerie Farcliff decides to use this bit of gossip to her advantage, I could be in deep, deep trouble. Worse trouble than I’m already in by being involved with Prince Damon. What we just did… that could land me in jail. I could be banished, just like my mother.
Maybe it runs in the family.
Although, something tells me that my mother never did what we just did.
Lady Farcliff takes a step closer to us and my heart beats faster.
“I never thought I’d see the day that another Raventhal was invited to Farcliff Castle.” She arches an eyebrow. Her gaze sweeps up and down my body, freezing me on the spot. Even if I wanted to run away, I don’t think I could.
I gulp. “The King was very gracious to invite me.”
“Gracious,” she repeats, swinging her eyes to Damon. “Indeed.”
Damon clears his throat. “Is there… Can we help you with anything, Aunt Malerie?”
Lady Farcliff shakes her head so slightly I almost miss the movement. “I was just on my way back in and I heard something… strange. I wanted to make sure no one was in trouble.” Her eyes flick to the throne, to that little wet patch on the seat. If the ground opened up at my feet and swallowed me whole right now, I wouldn’t be mad. I’d welcome the oblivion with open arms.
Prince Damon, thankfully, notices my discomfort. He puts a hand on my lower back to support me, and the warmth of his skin warms me through the fabric of my dress. With a small bow to his aunt, he gestures to a door on the side wall.
“If you’ll excuse us, Aunt, I was just giving Dahlia a tour of the castle. We still have lots of ground to cover.”
“Of course,” she says, painting a false smile on her face. “Don’t let me stop you.”
I feel her eyes on my back until the door closes behind us, and I let out a sigh. I turn to Damon and smack his chest with my palm.
“What’s that for?” He asks, catching my hand.
“We should never have done that. She knew.”
“She can’t prove anything.”
“There’s no CCTV in there?”
Damon laughs, catching my chin in his hand. He lays a soft kiss on my lips and wraps his arms around me. “If I wanted to film you, I’d ask you first.” His eyes flash. “I mean, if you’re into that kind of thing…”
“I’m not,” I say, pulling away. My heart is still racing.
This is all wrong. So, so wrong. There is nothing right about this situation.
Not the throne room, not Malerie Farcliff, not me—a Raventhal—being at the castle.
It’s wrong.
The only thing that felt right was Damon’s lips on mine, and his shaft buried deep inside me. That? That was right. That was perfect.
My breath hitches and I squeeze my eyes shut.
If Malerie Farcliff even whispers a word of this to anyone, it would cause a scandal of epic proportions. It could ruin Damon’s chances of becoming a well-respected doctor.
It would kill my mother.
“Hey,” Damon says softly, stroking my arm. “Come on. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, Your Highness,” I whisper. “I should never have come here.”
“Come on,” he says, taking my hand. “The restroom is just down here. We can get cleaned up and then we’ll both feel better. Don’t worry about Aunt Mal. She’s grumpy and easily offended, but she’s not dangerous. Her bark is worse than her bite.”
I force a smile, but I don’t quite believe him. Judging by how my family only said her name in hushed whispers, I suspect that Mal Farcliff’s bite is very much as bad as her bark.
Damon leads me to a bathroom. “I’ll wait out here,” he says. “You go first.”
“Thanks.” I push the door open and pause, glancing back at him. “Your shirt came unbuttoned, by the way.”
“Shit,” he says under his breath, looking down at himself. I catch a glimpse of a long, white scar across his chest and I frown, but he buttons his shirt too quickly for me to look more closely. Is that why he didn’t want to take his shirt off?
&nbs
p; Damon sighs. “I was wondering why she was staring at me like that.”
“I think it’s obvious what we were doing in there, Damon.”
His eyes lift up to mine and a smile flashes across his face. “You called me Damon.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. “Did you not hear me? She knows what we were doing.”
“We’re supposed to be two lovebirds dating each other,” he says, leaning against the wall. “We’re in the honeymoon phase, remember? We should be having sex everywhere and anywhere, multiple times a day.” A roguish smile tugs at his lips, and a strand of hair falls across his forehead. My heart skips a beat. Why does he have to be so damn handsome?
Damon reaches over to me and strokes my cheek. “Come on, Dahlia. It’s fine. She can’t hurt you—no one can. I promise.”
“Anyone ever tell you not to make promises you can’t keep?”
Damon leans over and kisses my forehead. “I’ll be right here. Hurry up, I have to pee.”
“Is that how the Prince is supposed to talk to his lover? I thought we were still in the honeymoon phase.”
He smiles again, and my heartbeat quickens. Damn my heart and damn him! Why couldn’t this be easy? Why did he have to be so perfect for me—and so wrong at the same time?
With a deep breath, I turn away and head into the bathroom. I lock the door behind me and head to the sink, where I splash water on my face to try to calm myself down.
I lean against the marble vanity with my head dropped onto my chest. There are so many emotions warring inside me. My heart and my mind are tugging me in opposite directions.
Heart—and body—toward Damon. Towards the euphoria he creates in me. Towards the mind-blowing orgasms that he gives me.
But my mind holds me back. It reminds me of my upbringing, of the pain of not growing up with my parents, of the danger that my mother always warned me about.
I think of all the questions that remain unanswered, and the feeling in my gut that I shouldn’t trust anyone in the Farcliff royal family…
…and I know that my mind has to win.
As much as it kills me, this has to stop. As much as Prince Damon has wriggled his way into my heart, I know it can’t go any further than this.
He’s not the square, clean-cut guy I thought he was—he’s so much more. But I’ll never find out exactly what’s underneath his proper exterior, because I can’t get involved with him.
If only for my mother’s sake, I need to keep my distance.
12
LADY MALERIE
MALERIE WATCHES Damon and the Raventhal girl disappear through the doorway, and her stomach sours. Her lips turn downward as she shakes her head.
Fifteen years later, she has to deal with yet another Raventhal bitch trying to sink her claws in the royal family. Malerie saw the way Damon looked at Dahlia before their dinner. She saw the way he put his arm protectively around Dahlia when Malerie stared.
He cares about her.
Sweet, stupid Damon.
Wasn’t it enough to deal with the death of the Queen? Didn’t the Raventhals learn their lesson? Farcliff has had fifteen years of peace, and now it’s the same set of problems cropping up all over again.
Well, Malerie won’t let it happen again.
Stepping lightly around the throne, she casts an eye over the ornate chair.
Because that’s all it is—a chair.
For how many years did she wish she could sit in it? How many times did she resent the fact that her ape of a brother got the title, and the glory, and the power?
Disgusted, Malerie walks across the Great Hall to the opposite side. Her steps echo in the empty room, and she feels so, so alone.
Damon won’t get a chance to sit on the throne, either. He’s like her—wretched number two. Charlie, the eldest, has always been a king. Everyone knows it—including him. He’s been treated like he owns the palace since he was an infant. Gabriel, the youngest of the brothers, has too much of his father in him. Brutish and dark, he’d never make a good ruler.
But Damon? He’s different.
He’s like Malerie. How she wishes she could teach him how to enjoy his life! She could show him what it means to make the most of a bad hand.
When she reaches the other end of the room, she glances back toward the door through which Damon and the Raventhal girl disappeared. A snarl twists Malerie’s lips, and she vows to protect Damon from the girl. Whatever it takes, there won’t be another Raventhal slithering around the castle.
13
DAMON
WHEN DAHLIA COMES BACK out of the washroom, I know something has changed. She doesn’t say much, but I can feel it.
“I think I’d like to go home now,” she says, dragging her eyes up to mine before looking away again.
“You don’t want to stay? I was going to show you the rose garden and the royal beehive. It produces all the honey in Farcliff, right here on the castle grounds. My aunt brought the bees back from Yemen when I was a kid.” I’m blabbing, but I don’t care. I’ll say anything to get her to stay.
“I’m allergic to bees and I don’t have my EpiPen,” Dahlia blurts out.
I chuckle, confused. “Okay, no beehive, then. Just a walk around the grounds?”
Dahlia shifts her weight from foot to foot. With a deep breath, she lifts her eyes up to mine again. “Look, Damon. Tonight was incredible. I really like you—I do...” She pauses.
“Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ in there.” I try to keep my voice neutral, but it trembles ever so slightly on the last word.
“…but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to get involved. Your family still hates mine, and neither of us really know what happened between them.”
“We are not our parents, Dahlia. We’re allowed to do what we want.”
“I know. I just…” She takes a deep breath. “I just can’t. I’m sorry.” She shakes her head, and my heart sinks.
We walk in silence back the way we came, through the double doors at the castle entrance and toward the waiting car.
Dahlia leaves the palace grounds without another word.
Suddenly, I feel cold. My throat is scratchy as I watch the car drive away, hoping that she’ll change her mind. I watch the taillights disappear through the tall gates, standing on the castle steps like a fool. Then, I turn back to the castle with a slump in my shoulders.
Trudging back to my chambers, I push the door open and sigh. My books are laid out ready for me on my desk, but I just don’t have the energy to study right now.
I don’t have the energy to do anything except re-live every second of this evening over and over again.
Dahlia, the proper lady at a royal dinner party, followed by Dahlia, the decidedly un-proper lady splayed out on the Throne of Farcliff for me. I can still see her lips falling open in a silent scream when she came, and I can feel her hands twisting into my hair. I can taste her skin. Her honey. Her kiss.
But she’s gone.
I stare at my desk full of notebooks and assignments, and I sigh. Is this really what I want?
My father has been supportive of me giving up my royal duties to pursue medical school. I’m not the eldest, so it’s not like I have responsibilities as the heir to the throne. For the most part, I’ve done well. I’ll be starting my residency at Farcliff General Hospital in September, and I just have a round of exams to get through before then.
I should be studying.
But my thoughts keep circling back to Dahlia—to the way that she said goodbye. I stare at my desk, at my laptop, at my books, and my arms hang limply at my sides.
I know this feeling. I call it the Darkness. The Darkness starts in the depths of my heart, usually on nights like tonight. When something throws me off emotionally, or physically, or mentally, I can feel it creeping into the corners of my soul. Before too long, it’ll consume me whole.
When I was younger, it was overwhelming. It started right after my mother died in her bed. After I saw her—cold
and rigid, her eyes glassy as they stared up at the ceiling—the Darkness started.
When I saw the cup of tea that I’d brought her the night before, spilled on its side on the thick carpet below her bed, I knew I would never be the same.
I’d stay in my own bed for days, unable to move or speak or do anything except lay there and wait for the feeling to go away. The Darkness was like a crushing physical weight sitting in the center of my chest.
As I got older, I learned to see the warning signs. Sometimes, it was like a pendulum. If I felt too happy about something, it was only a matter of time before the pendulum swung the other way. The higher the highs, the lower the lows.
Dinner with Dahlia was a high. Sex with Dahlia was definitely a fucking high. It was stratospheric. Having her naked in my arms was like nothing I’d ever felt before.
Watching her drive away without looking back? That was a low.
Nowadays, I can usually stop the Darkness from taking over. Over the years, I’ve gotten better at keeping it at bay. The tingling in my fingertips, the loss of feeling in my lips. The thoughts circling in my mind like sharks.
It all leads down the same road—to the deep, dark abyss of my own soul.
I can usually stop that from happening. Sometimes I throw myself into my studies. Sometimes I work out. Sometimes I drink.
But when things are bad, the only thing that keeps the Darkness at bay is pain.
Tonight, it’s bad.
I throw open my bedroom door and pull on a jacket. It’s the end of March, and Farcliff is still cold. It won’t be summer for another few months.
I zip my jacket up to my chin and stuff my hands in my pockets. I cross a few people in the castle hallways on my way to the garages, but no one says a word to me.
Not that I’d answer. There’s only one thing on my mind right now. I need to feel something. I need to get Dahlia out of my head. I need to keep the Darkness from taking over.
When I make it to my car, my hands are trembling, and it isn’t because of the cold. It’s taking all my energy to keep my body together, as if some invisible force is trying to tear my body to pieces. The Darkness is overwhelming my heart and starting to cloud my vision. I put the car in gear and drive off the castle grounds. My heart thumps so hard it hurts.
Heartless Prince: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected Book 2) Page 7