Crown of Thornes : a modern day royal romance

by Delaney Foster

  He slid his hand farther between my legs. His thumb rubbed my clit while another finger slipped inside me. His teeth grazed my neck, then he bit me. Hard. And I tilted my head to one side because I liked it. A lot.

  “I gave you what you said you wanted.” He kissed the spot his teeth just marked then looked me in the eyes. “Now I’m giving you what you’re too afraid to ask for.” Another finger.

  It wasn’t the asking that I was afraid of.

  A moan tore past my lips. One look at the confident set of his jaw and unapologetic hunger in his eyes, and I knew. The tension, the ache, the burn—he felt it too.

  “Why do you keep running to him when we both know it’s me you crave? My mouth on your clit. My fingers fucking you. My cock between your legs.”

  All Sutton would ever have to do was talk to me that way, touch me the way he was right now, look at me with his hypnotizing eyes, and he would own me. He was right. I belonged to him. I was his—mind, body, and soul, no matter what.

  “You don’t have to answer with your mouth. Your body tells me all I need to know,” he said, adding a third finger, stretching me. Filling me.

  Oh. God. I rocked against him, riding his hand. I wanted him deeper, wanted him wider. I wanted his mouth on me. Everywhere. I wanted him inside of me. I needed it so bad I couldn’t breathe.

  “You’re so wet,” he whispered against my ear and thrust inside me. “So fucking wet.” There was nothing violent or possessive in his tone, only reverence. “I could play with you like this all night.”

  Please.

  No secrets. No lies. No running. No enemies. Nothing mattered but me and him and this.

  I clenched his tie in my fists and leaned my forehead on his shoulder. “Sutton…”

  My body pulsed with heat, but before I could explode on his fingers, Sutton slid them out of me, leaving me bereft and neglected. I was drowning in a sea of lust, and his touch was the only thing keeping my head above water. I was about to protest when he brought his fingers to my lips. “Open your mouth,” he demanded, and I shook my head.

  He quirked a brow, tipping his head to one side. “No?”

  I sucked in a breath and met his gaze. “No. Because tonight, when you’re touching Julianna Bellarosa, I want you to smell like me.”

  I want the world to know you’re mine every bit as much as I am yours.

  He started this fight. I was simply punching back. Sutton narrowed his eyes, and the air shifted. The moment ended as fast as it came. He could deny it all he wanted, but it seemed that was all we ever had—moments. Like waves crashing onto the shore only to be pulled back out to the sea again.

  “You know about that?” His dark laughter filled my ears. “Of course you know about that. I’m sure that was part of her plan.”

  Plan? Whose plan? Did he really think I wouldn’t find out? Prince Sutton requested an intimate dinner in his private chambers. The words sat heavy on my chest. Suffocating me. Crushing me.

  “You should probably go. I wouldn’t want you to keep the Prime Minister’s daughter waiting,” I gritted out, still mad that he pulled his fingers from me three seconds too soon.

  “If you want me to go, I’ll go. But just so you know, the only woman I plan on touching is you.” I belted out a laugh, and he took a step forward, closing the space between us once again. He fisted my hair, tilting my head to the side as he inspected the bite mark he left there. His mouth curled in a proud smile then thinned back to its usual scowl. “There is no date.”

  “Oh, so now everyone in the kitchen is a liar?”

  There was no way I was telling him Madeline was the one who told me. She was kind and innocent and didn’t deserve his wrath.

  His nostrils flared, and his jaw tensed. “You misunderstood.”

  “Misunderstood? Prince Sutton requested an intimate dinner… I think that’s pretty freaking clear.”

  “I said you misunderstood.” He tightened his grip in my hair then turned my head to face him. “And why the fuck are we fighting when there are so many other things I could do with that pretty mouth?”

  Because fighting is what we do.

  His other hand hooked around my waist and pulled me against him as his lips crashed to mine. His hand slid to my butt, squeezing it while our tongues, lips, and teeth clashed in a brutal kiss. Bruising. Biting. Or maybe both. It was peace, and it was chaos. It was a rage-filled promise. Every doubt, every insecurity, every apprehension crashed to the ground with this kiss. I couldn’t think or breathe. Sutton stole my air and filled me with him. His thick, heavy erection dug into my stomach. I tangled my fingers in his hair and rubbed against him, needing him to be closer, wanting more. He finally pulled away, but all my senses were still filled with him. His touch, his taste, and his smell all consumed the very air I breathed.

  I looked up at his eyes, dark and hungry, and tried to find my voice. “Just so you know, regardless of what you think, I wasn’t running to Keaton. I was running away from him.”

  He jolted back, hitting the brakes so hard I could almost smell the rubber on the road. “What did you just say?”

  Oh. Ship.

  “Running away from what? What did he do?” I grabbed my towel and held it to my body as though that would somehow make me feel less vulnerable. He stood up straight, reminding me exactly how intimidating he could be. “I think we’ve moved past all the mindfucking, so answer the goddamn question.” His gaze dared me to lie.

  “He wants your throne.”

  His eyes never left mine, but the thoughts behind them seemed distant. Like he was mentally placing pieces of a puzzle together.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” His voice was calm. Too calm. Almost completely detached. Every word was controlled and concise, as if he held it all together with a tight rein.

  A nervous tremble shot through my body. “He tried to use me to get it.”

  We stared at each other in silence. There was so much left unspoken. Questions left unasked. Secrets left untold. I wanted to tell him everything, to bare my soul so that there were no more walls left between us. He let go of my waist and made his way toward the front door.

  “Wait. Where are you going?”

  He couldn’t leave. There was so much more he needed to know. He was walking into an ambush. I just lost my father. Sutton was the one person I finally let wade through the fog of grief. I would never survive losing him too.

  He stopped with his hand on the doorknob then looked over his shoulder at me. The sheer, black rage in his eyes sent a chill up my spine. I no longer feared for Sutton, but I was suddenly terrified for Keaton. “The crown is mine. You are mine. I’m about to show the world what happens when you fuck with a lion.”

  Twenty-Five

  Katie never answered my question. What did he do to make her run? I would find out soon enough, but it really didn’t matter because the minute she told me he tried to use her to get to me, I saw red. If Keaton or anyone else wanted my throne, they were welcome to come try to take it. The minute he involved Katie in a battle that was between us, he signed his death warrant. I had half a mind to dig up Matteo Bellizzi just so I could kill him again for making her feel like she had to repent for his sins. I already hated myself for ever thinking she was anything like him, and I would spend the rest of my life making that up to her if she let me. I left her villa and went straight to my office and made two phone calls. Then I leaned back in my chair and waited.

  I twirled my pen between my fingers, fingers that still smelled like her, and rocked back and forth in my chair. It took twenty minutes for Keaton to storm through the door, which was about five minutes longer than I thought it would.

  “I tried to see the king, but he was sadly… unavailable.” He emphasized the word king, and his eyes glinted a hint of amusement when he said unavailable.

  Keep pushing buttons, motherfucker, and you will see me come unhinged. He marked his calendar with this ass whipping the day he staked his claim on what was mine.

&nb
sp; “Any idea why there’s a guard outside my room?” he questioned. The leather chair creaked when I rocked back and matched the wicked glare he threw at me.

  “He’s there to escort you to the gate.” I rolled the pen across my knuckles. “After you get your things, of course.” My cell phone buzzed against my desk. I glanced at the screen. Mom. I ignored it. She was probably calling to explain the Cruella Deville moment she had in my office earlier, and I could only deal with one villain at a time. Right now, that villain was Keaton.

  He took two steps toward me with fire in his eyes. “I knew Katie would run straight to you.”

  I sat up straight, placing my elbows on my desk. “Let me make something very clear. That’s the last time you say her fucking name. Understood?” My teeth clenched. What I really wanted to say was what the fuck did you do to her you cocksucking cuntbag, but that would have been unprofessional.

  Keaton darted forward, slamming his palms on the hard wood that separated us. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re doing, who you’re messing with.”

  If he expected me to flinch, he was probably disappointed. Did Katie seriously fuck this guy? If his stamina was as short as his temper, it was no wonder she was dripping wet every time I touched her.

  My dad pleaded ignorance to the forces against him. That ignorance only made them stronger. He was kind and caring, and he loved his people. He just sucked at leading them. Which was why the first call I made was to Antonio, instructing him to get Keaton Valetta the fuck out of my castle. The second one was to schedule a session with Parliament because I refused to sit on the throne without first showing them exactly where I stood.

  His lip curled as he stared down at me. “You really think your army of hundreds will stand against thousands?”

  I could give two shits about the size of his army. If bigger meant better, then the lion would bow to the elephant.

  Another call from Mom. Jesus, she was relentless. I hit ignore again, hoping she got the hint, then turned my attention back to Keaton. “Your scare tactics may have worked on my father, but unfortunately for you, he’s… What was the word you used?” I set the pen on my desk then brought my fingers to my lips and pretended to think. God, that smell. One hundred percent Katie. Musky with the right amount of sweet. I could get high on that scent. I looked back at Keaton. “Oh, right… unavailable.”

  He straightened his posture. His eyes narrowed in on mine. “This is a war you won’t be able to win. Not even with Katie by your side.” He smirked and turned toward the door. “Did she tell you she’s leaving?”

  She mentioned it right before I devoured her pussy in the Great Hall, but I thought it was a defense mechanism, empty words meant to deter me.

  Keaton huffed a laugh, and his eyes glinted with false victory. “Oh my God, she didn’t, did she?” Fuck. You. “The day Katie turns twenty-five, Torryn and everyone in it, including you, will be a distant memory.”

  Twice. He said her name twice. I thought my warning was pretty clear. I was out of my chair and on him in a second, shoving him against the door with my arm wedged between his chest and throat. He grabbed at my bicep, only making me press harder, cutting off his air supply until his face turned red. “You see, that’s the difference between me and you. You need to go to war with Katie. I would go to war for her.” More buzzing in the background as I got yet another phone call—probably from Mom. I dropped my arm and took a step back. Keaton’s chest heaved as he fought for air. “And I told you not to say her fucking name.”

  If I had to fight the world to keep my crown, I would fight the fucking world. If I had to fight fate to keep my queen, I would bring that bitch to her knees. After all, there could be no conquest without a war.

  I opened the door for him, because I’m a fucking gentleman like that, then went to answer my cell phone before my mother decided to call for a fourth time.

  The worst part of uncertainty was the wait. Waiting for answers. Hoping for peace. After Sutton left, I got dressed then spent the rest of the afternoon wondering. Waiting. Hoping. Trying not to let the fear of the unknown strangle me. Keaton said he had an army. Only God knew what Sutton had. Keaton had a plan. Sutton had… a lifetime of preparation for this very moment. I stopped myself from walking out the door and to his office at least a dozen times. I wanted to calm the storm that raged inside of him, but I was a little sheep, and he was a lion. Lions didn’t need any help from sheep.

  I sat on the sofa and stared across the room to the chair where Sutton sat just a few hours ago. His scent still lingered in the air, and my lips were still tender from his kiss. The space felt empty without him in it. I pulled my knees to my chest and replayed the last four months in slow motion. How could I have been so stupid? I trusted Keaton. My arms squeezed tightly around my legs. He told me he wanted to protect me, and I believed him. I believed him and doubted Sutton. I thought I was being strong by putting up walls and keeping Keaton at arm’s length, by not wanting to know more about him. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Less was more. All the BS that came with guarding my heart. It turned out that my strength was my weakness. My stomach roiled at the realization that I had no one to blame for this mess but myself. The hardest thing about betrayal was falling for the lie.

  I stayed like that, lost in my thoughts, for hours. Before I knew it, time had escaped me. The sky outside my windows grew dark, and my mind and body were tired, so I climbed the stairs and went to bed. I crawled under the covers with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach then I said a prayer for Sutton Thorne.

  I woke in the middle of the night to find Sutton standing at the foot of the bed not saying a word. How long had he been there? Staring. Watching. Waiting. The moonlight crept in through my window, illuminating his tall, powerful silhouette. Even the darkness bowed to him. He was fully clothed in a simple white T-shirt and jeans, but somehow sexier than any man I’d ever seen. He had one hand in his pocket and a thumb on his bottom lip. He was gorgeous, heartbreakingly so.

  Half man.

  Half god.

  All king.

  Completely wrecked.

  I was transfixed on him.

  When I was younger, our class took a field trip to the art museum. The one painting that stuck out in my mind was of a man. His eyes were black, his mouth gaping open, and his body was engulfed in fire. The curator told us that the artist used his own blood to paint the flames. I would never forget feeling the pain and anguish of the man in that painting and wondering what kind of grief the artist must have endured.

  Watching Sutton stand at the foot of my bed with red-rimmed eyes and tousled hair, I felt that pain all over again. He was utterly broken, consumed by flames of anguish and defeat. Sutton was the burning man.

  A single tear rolled down my cheek, and my heart bled for the man standing before me. I didn’t know how I knew, but I knew. Sutton had lost his father. My prince was now a king.

  The silence was too loud. My rapid breath sounded like rolling thunder. I waited in the dark, wondering, anticipating. The sound of metal against metal unzipping as he worked out of his jeans sent awareness prickling over my skin. He pulled his white T-shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. My breath hitched at the sight of a completely naked Sutton Thorne, of his toned chest and stomach tight with bands of muscle. His thick, muscled thighs and that barely-there line of hair that led to his silky-steel cock. I wanted to run my fingers along that path of hair, then my tongue. I’d never wanted to taste anything so badly in my life.

  I lifted the comforter and moved it to the side, inviting him to climb in. He crawled on top of me, bracing himself with one hand beside my head and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with the other. His eyes grew dark like the storm-blue color of his bedroom. He leaned in, letting his mouth hover above mine as the weight of his body pressed me into the mattress.

  “I’m only going to ask you once,” he said, his voice rough and low.

  “Yes,” I whispered against his lips.

  He smil
ed. A genuine grin, the kind that made the skin around the edges of his eyes crinkle. “I haven’t asked yet.”

  I ran my hands over his shoulders and down his back to his bare butt. “It doesn’t matter. The answer is yes.”

  He lowered his forehead to mine and closed his eyes. I brought my hands to his face and cupped his cheeks, and his eyes squeezed shut even tighter. “If I asked you to love me… Just for tonight…”

  My heart shattered. For him. For me. For the king who bled from the thorns on his crown. “Yes,” I said. “My answer would be yes.”

  Tomorrow was an eternity away. Fear was irrelevant. If all we had was this… moment… I wanted it to matter. Sutton needed it to matter.

  Without opening his eyes, he pressed his face into my neck, and I felt it. His staggered breath against my chest and his hot tears against my skin. All the pain. All the brokenness. The unbreakable connection. Everything brought us to this right here, right now.

  I pressed my lips against his temple and pulled him closer. His mouth moved over my neck then found mine in the darkness. His tongue licked over the seam of my lips then he kissed one corner of my mouth before pulling away. He gently lifted my arms up over my head, bringing my tank top with them then throwing it to the side. He leaned back on his haunches and took his time drinking me in, as if I were one of the jewels in his Collection Room.

  “You have no fucking idea how bad I need to be inside you right now.”

  I bowed my back and arched toward him. My fingers traced the lines of his taut stomach all the way down to the trail of hair I loved so much. “Then do it.”

  When he looked down at me, the anguish was gone. Now he looked like a lion ready to pounce, and I offered myself as a sacrifice. “Do what? Say the word, Katie.”

  Not little sheep. Tonight, I was Katie, and he was Sutton.

  “Fuck me.”

  “I love watching filthy words spill from your lips. And I love that they only spill for me,” he said as he slid my shorts over my hips and off my legs. His knee nudged mine, forcing my legs apart. He settled on top of me and brought his face to mine. “Your words are mine. Your mouth is mine. You are all mine. There hasn’t been a single minute since I found you in the kitchen that you haven’t belonged to me.”