But that doesn’t happen. Instead, Dahlia’s eyes lift up to mine and her cheeks blush to match her dress. She’s carrying a small bouquet of flowers. As she holds my gaze, Dahlia stumbles and lets out a soft swear word.
I grin.
She catches herself and, with a breath, makes her way to the other side of the dais, opposite where my brothers and I are waiting. As Dahlia takes her position, I notice that the back of her dress plunges down to reveal her milky white back. My fingers itch to feel her skin, to tease their way up her vertebrae and tangle themselves into her hair.
My cock throbs.
I don’t hear any of the ceremony. I’m sure it’s beautiful, but all I hear is the thumping of my heart in my ears. All I see is a blur, punctuated by the many glances I steal toward Dahlia.
She does the same, and hope blooms inside me. She feels the same way I do—I know she does. What if this whole mess with my father turns out to be a good thing? What if her hesitation to come to the castle goes away? What if we have another chance at this?
I clap at all the right times, and I take pictures when I’m supposed to. The wedding ceremony is quick and—I’m told later—very moving. But the only thing that moves me right now is a short pixie-girl that I want to make my own.
Finally, after an eternity, the ceremony ends and we’re led to one of the large reception rooms in the castle. Dahlia stands near the wall, and it only takes a couple of seconds for her eyes to find mine. From across the room, we stare at each other.
There are a thousand words in that gaze. A million things we haven’t said to each other—and don’t need to speak out loud.
My body responds by burning hotter. My cock throbs. I drop my gaze to her body, and suddenly my feet are carrying me toward her. Her cheeks flush. My mouth waters. Her hands tremble slightly, until she clasps them together. Her tongue slides out to swipe her lower lip.
I need her.
We stand a foot apart, and it takes every ounce of my willpower to stop from throwing her over my shoulder and carrying her to the closest private room.
After a moment, she sucks in a breath. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I respond. I gulp past a lump in my throat. My palms are sweating. “You look great. And I don’t mean that as flattery. It’s the truth. So, you know—tell Dostoyevsky the two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“Thanks,” she laughs. “You clean up all right, too.”
I take a deep breath. Gathering all my courage, I nod to the door. “You want to go somewhere quiet to talk?”
Her eyes darken ever so slightly, and a smile tugs at her lips. “Yeah, I do.”
18
DAHLIA
EVEN THOUGH I told myself that I’d be strong, that I wouldn’t let myself be alone with Prince Damon, that I’d keep my distance… the instant I saw him, I knew I was destined to fail.
How can I resist, when he’s the definition of irresistible?
His hand drifts to the small of my back as he leads me through a side door. Butterflies flutter in my abdomen, and the warmth of his hand on my skin makes my stomach tighten. We emerge into a quiet corridor, and he nods down the hall. “This way.”
I follow him blindly, trying my best to put one foot in front of the other while my mind races and my heart tries its best to explode out of my chest.
Everywhere his fingers touch, sparks dance across my skin. Heat curls in the pit of my stomach as he guides me down another hallway. I shouldn’t be alone with him, because I know what’s going to happen.
It’s inevitable.
When the Prince pushes open a door, my pulse is hammering so hard I think I might pass out. He sweeps his arm around the room and grins at me.
“Welcome to my sanctuary.”
We’re in a medium-sized room. One wall is dominated with bookshelves, and there’s a large, solid wood desk in the corner. Another corner has a couple of couches in it, with reading lamps arching over them. The middle of the room has a long table stretching across it, with chairs lining either side. It’s lush and cozy.
“My study,” the Prince says. “No one comes here.”
The far wall is dominated by windows. I step lightly over to them, glancing out. The pristine, manicured royal gardens are splayed out below us.
“It’s nice,” I say. “Is this where your classes happen?”
“Most of them did,” the Prince nods. “Although I’ve started my residency, so I’m working at the Farcliff General Hospital now.”
“Imagine being sick and having royalty show up at your bedside,” I laugh, glancing over my shoulder at him. “That’s enough to give anyone a heart attack—if they haven’t already had one.” I walk over to the bookcases and run my fingers along the leather spines. “You’ll make a special kind of doctor, that’s for sure.”
Prince Damon walks up behind me as I stare at the bookshelves and slides his hands over my hips. His chest presses up against my back, and heat ignites between my thighs.
I knew this would happen if I was alone with him. I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist.
But I still followed him here.
I turn around in his arms to face him and slide my hands up his chest. He’s warm, strong, and everything I’ve been missing. He smells exactly how I remember. My breath hitches, and I feel myself melting into his arms.
He’s the sun, and I’m a fleck of space dust, caught in orbit around him. Of course I followed him here. Of course I couldn’t resist him.
“It’s good to see you,” the Prince says in a low voice. “I’ve thought of that night a lot over the past few months.”
“So have I.”
“Why did you block my number?”
His fingers sink into my hips and my heart does a flip. “I was scared.”
“Of my father?”
“Of my feelings,” I whisper, dragging my eyes up to his. “We’re not supposed to be together.”
“Maybe before,” Damon says, sliding his hands around to my ass, “but things have changed.”
I want to believe him. Every fiber of my being wants it to be true. He’s right—things have changed. The King has abdicated, the King’s advisor has been charged with regicide. The Kingdom is in turmoil.
For me, turmoil is good. Turmoil means my mother might be able to come back to the Kingdom. Through what the investigation uncovers, it means I might find out exactly what happened. My family might finally find some peace.
Turmoil means that maybe—just maybe—I can be with Damon.
I curl my hands around the back of his neck and take a deep breath.
“You look beautiful today.” Damon presses his hand against the bare skin of my lower back, slipping his fingers beneath my dress.
A spark travels up my spine, causing my head to angle up toward him. It’s like my body is asking him to kiss me.
Begging him to kiss me.
No matter what’s going on in my heart, no matter what my mind is trying to make me do, I can’t control what my body wants.
Damon knows it, and he crushes my lips with his own. He kisses me fiercely, sinking his fingers into my skin as a moan slips through my lips.
I want this. I want it so bad I’m trembling. The moment I walked into the Great Hall—into that room where Damon changed me all those months ago—I knew that I’d be in his arms before the night was over.
I’m sick of resisting, sick of trying to convince myself that I shouldn’t do this, sick of torturing myself with thoughts of the Prince.
Damon is here. I’m here. We both want this.
I pull him closer, tangling my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. I roll my hips toward him. My back slams against the bookcase behind me. I wince.
“You okay?” Damon’s eyebrows draw together.
“I’m good,” I pant. My lips fly back to his. What is pain? Pain is nothing.
Pleasure is everything.
Before I know what I’m doing, my fingers are working to loosen his tie. I slide it off his neck
and toss it aside. Damon’s eyebrow arches and a grin curls his lips.
With trembling hands, I unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders. My eyes widen as I see mottled bruises covering his ribs, but Damon doesn’t even seem to notice. He helps me tear the shirt off, flinging it behind him and kissing me again. His lips are on mine, and then on my jaw, my neck, my shoulder. He kisses my earlobe, scraping his teeth against it as he grinds himself against me.
All the while, I feel him pulsing against me, thick and hard. Oh, I feel him—and everything falls away.
I run my hands over every inch of him.
I’ve missed this.
I’m a sexual person, and I haven’t slept with anyone in months. I haven’t wanted to, but the need has still been there.
Right now, that need is cresting. My whole body is trembling, screaming for him to fuck me. My lips are swollen and wet with his kiss.
Damon spins me around without warning. I yelp, gripping onto the bookcase as his hand runs down my spine. He slides the straps of my dress off my shoulders, laying a soft kiss where the fabric used to be. I let it fall to my waist, arching my back and grinding my ass against him.
His cock is hard. He pushes it against me and my breath catches in my throat.
How many times have I thought of him like this? How many times have I given myself a less-than-satisfying orgasm while dreaming of this very situation?
Prince Damon’s hands, broad and strong, slide down my sides and send shivers of pleasure running through my body. He presses his chest to my back, and the contact of his skin against mine makes my head spin. The Prince’s hands run up my stomach to cup my breasts as he growls in my ear.
There are no words, but I know what that growl means. It means he feels exactly like I do. It means he, too, has dreamed of this.
With one hand still on my breast, he slips the other beneath my dress as it hangs from my waist. When his hand reaches my mound, it stops.
“No panties?” He rasps in my ear.
“Didn’t want panty lines,” I say, breathless. “It would ruin the look.” My eyes are closed and all I can think about is his hand between my legs. It moves down a bit further, and his fingers tease my slit. I’m already soaking wet. I’m glad I have my back to him, because I’m blushing so hard my face probably matches my hair.
“No hair, either.” His voice is breathy and heavy with need. “I won’t be fucking a rainbow pussy this time.” His finger slides between my legs and finds my bud.
My head is a mess.
“I got a wax yesterday,” I say as my fingers dig into the bookcase. My cheeks are burning. “I don’t know why… Is that okay?”
Damon lets out a deep, low chuckle. “Yes, it’s okay—and I think I know why you did it, Dahlia.”
“Why do you think?”
His fingers slide over and back through my slit as I continue to tremble against him. His other hand teases my breast as his lips brush over my neck. My wetness is almost embarrassing. I can feel it dripping down onto my legs as his hand slides further back toward my opening.
“You waxed that sweet, little pussy of yours because you knew you’d be getting fucked tonight.” His voice is a low growl. It’s commanding, and possessive, and rough—and it makes me whimper.
His finger slides into my opening, and my legs quake. He drags it in and out of me as his breath warms my neck and his cock pulses against my ass.
It’s too much. It’s not enough. I grip the shelves and gasp.
“You knew this would happen, or at least you hoped it would,” he growls, his finger still stroking in and out of me.
The friction of his palm against my bud leaves me breathless, and I can’t answer.
“You did it for me, didn’t you?”
My fingers dig into the bookcase and I hold on as hard as I can. I don’t trust my legs. Damon’s cock presses against my ass as his fingers pump in and out of me. He pinches my nipple and I moan.
“Answer me, Princess. You hoped this would happen today.”
“I told you,” I pant. “I’m not a princess.”
“You’re my Princess.” Damon drags his fingers out of me and moves them—soaked with my need—over my clit. I gasp, but I still can’t answer. My forehead is resting against a book, and it’s all I can do to stay standing.
“Say it, Dahlia,” Damon growls. “Say you did this for me.”
His hand moves faster, twirling over my bud as my wetness drips down my thighs. I squeeze my eyes shut and suck in a breath, and finally I can speak.
“Yes,” I gasp. “I wanted you. I wanted this. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night on the throne.”
Damon spins me around and kisses me hard. His hands fumble to push my dress over the curve of my hips, and it puddles at my feet. I kick it away, clawing at him to bring him closer. The Prince crushes his lips against mine with a moan, kicking my legs apart and slipping his hand once more between them.
This is better than the first time. It’s the culmination of months of waiting, wishing, hoping, anticipating. Prince Damon is stronger than I remembered. He’s bigger. Rougher. More commanding.
I love every second of it.
When the Prince picks me up and wraps my legs around his waist, my heart does a flip. He claims my lips again, carrying me to the wide wooden desk. There, he sits me down on the edge and runs his hands over my body once again.
His body is chiseled to perfection. I want to ask him where he got the cuts and bruises on his ribs and abdomen, but I don’t have the chance.
“I’ve thought of this every single day for the past seven months,” Prince Damon growls.
“I know,” I breathe.
I watch him unfasten his belt and let his pants fall to the ground. When he drops his briefs down, too, his cock throbs toward me.
“I think he’s saying hello,” I laugh.
“He missed you,” the Prince grins as he grasps his cock in his hand. His eyes darken as he moves closer to me. He brushes the tip of his cock against me, and I let out a long breath. I spread my legs wider as my breath hitches, the anticipation almost too much to handle.
“I don’t have a condom,” I say in a breathy voice as I sweep my eyes over his perfect body. “I’m not on the pill anymore.”
“I’ll pull out,” the Prince answers.
It’s not perfect, it’s not foolproof, and I don’t give a damn. His gorgeous cock is throbbing against me and I need it inside me. Now.
Prince Damon slides himself inside me inch by inch, stretching me wide as we both let out a low moan. It feels perfect. It feels like we were made for each other, like everyone who came before pales in comparison to him. He fits inside me so perfectly it makes me feel whole. Complete.
Filled.
We don’t say a word from then on. His hands grip my thighs, my sides, my waist. I claw at his chest and pull his head down to kiss me. He thrusts inside me, deep and powerful and perfect. I moan into his shoulder, biting his skin and gasping as the pleasure mounts inside me.
It’s more than pleasure. It’s ecstasy. It’s euphoria. It’s every cell in my body aligning itself and screaming in unison as the Prince drives himself deeper and deeper inside me.
With rough, possessive hands, he pulls my hips closer to the edge of the desk. I lean back on my elbows and let my head fall back. His thumb finds my clit and I know I’m done.
My orgasm winds me. It rips the air out of my lungs and steals the scream from my lips. It stiffens every limb in my body and makes my walls contract around the Prince’s shaft so tightly that I hear him groan in response.
Wildfire rips through my body from my center outward, spreading over every inch of me. The Prince thrusts himself inside me again and again as I try my best to ride my orgasm to the end.
I open my eyes and lift my head. My lips are open and I let out a moan as another wave of pleasure crashes into me. The Prince stares at me—at my chest, and my stomach, and down between my legs—and he grunts in
response. His hands grip my legs and spread them wider, and I feel his cock start to throb.
He pulls his cock out of me and sprays his seed. White, sticky ropes cover my stomach, my breasts, all the way up to my chin. I watch him, body trembling…
…and I love it.
I love the messiness of it. I love him marking me like this—making me his. I like the feeling of his orgasm dripping off my body as my own pleasure subsides. His lips curl into a smile as he pumps the last of his cum onto my body, and then he drags his thumb through the mess, satisfied.
I’ll never be anyone else’s. I belong to Prince Damon, now and forever.
19
DAMON
DAHLIA SMILES at me as she slips her dress back on. I hop on one foot as I pull my pants up, grinning back at her like a fool. I can’t keep the smile off my face.
I’ve been dreaming of that for months now. Dreaming of her.
As much as I thought today would be difficult, and I didn’t really want to celebrate when our whole family is in turmoil, it feels so fucking good to be with Dahlia that I don’t care.
We toss out the tissues that we used to clean ourselves up with, and I wrap my arms around Dahlia’s waist again. Laying a soft kiss on her lips, I sigh. It feels incredible to have her in my arms. I didn’t know if I’d ever feel this again.
We make our way back to the wedding reception, where cocktails are already being served. Charlie sees us walk in, and his eyebrows shoot up a fraction of an inch.
Dahlia squeezes my arm. “I’d better go see Elle,” she says, her cheeks flushing pink again. “I’ll talk to you in a bit.”
“Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Her eyes sparkle. She smiles at me, and then ducks away.
I make my way over to Charlie, who’s talking to his butler Neville. When I decided to go to medical school, I gave up my own personal butler. I figured if I’m giving up my royal life and living like a regular person, I needed to forego some of the royal privilege—including having staff. I don’t mind, though. When I needed to sneak out of the castle without being noticed, not having a gaggle of employees following me around everywhere makes it a lot easier.
Heartless Prince: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected Book 2) Page 10