His Runaway Campfire Princess

by Gwen Hayes

  But it was. It so was.

  “Look at me, Harmon.”

  He moved his hips again, hissing in pleasure, but continued to stare at the ceiling.

  “Look at us.” She put her hands over his, squeezing her flesh around him.

  “If I look at you right now, I’ll come. I have no control left. Not an ounce.”

  He rocked again, and she snaked her tongue around his crown on the upstroke. He looked down at her then. Fierce passion scorching her, his nostrils flaring, his hands squeezing her hard enough to leave mark. “Princess.”

  “I want you to come. On me. All over me.”

  “I want to make it last.”

  “I don’t know of a better way to make it last than a round two.” He thrust and held ten seconds longer when she got him in her mouth, and smiled around him. He pulled back and she said, “We’ve got all night. Let yourself go for once. I want you to so badly, I want to be sticky and dirty and yours—”

  He began shaking, every corded muscle tense and defined, his eyes glazed over in lust. “I’ve dreamed about you like this,” he said, a clear warning in his voice. “Dreamed of what you would look like if I painted you with—”

  He didn’t finish his thought with words, but his orgasm tore out of him with a violent groan. He spent himself all over her, just as he promised, and she was shaking though she hadn’t come herself.

  She was close though.

  Nobody had ever been so animalistic with her before. He wasn’t careful of her sensibilities or worried about shocking her. He just acted on his instincts instead of putting her on a pedestal. She was sure some women would not appreciate being in her position right now. But she reveled in it. The dirtier the better.

  “Is there a name for what we just did?”

  He eyed her, blushing at the top of his beard. “Princess, I’m…”

  “Not sorry. Say it, Princess I’m not sorry. Because I swear to God, Harmon—”

  “I treated you like a—”

  “Woman you’ve been dying to fuck for a long time.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  She raised up on her elbows, still sticky and hot. She looked down her breasts. “Not even a little bit.” A look of tenderness crossed his face, so she sent him a sassy smile. “What’s it called?”

  He shook his head. “Titty wank.” He groaned and rolled off her onto his back. “That doesn’t sound very romantic.”

  She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to look at her. To see her rubbing him into her skin in circles with her fingers. His gaze darkened and he swallowed hard. “I certainly didn’t look after your needs.”

  “I enjoyed myself just fine.”

  He raised one brow. “I should have given you a hundred orgasms before I took my own.”

  She licked him off her finger. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He growled and moved again, this time pushing her legs open. “You really did like that, didn’t you? You don’t feel debased?”

  “Only in the best possible way.”

  He palmed her between her legs, ran a finger over her where she ached the most. “So wet, Princess.” He continued to massage her and she opened her legs more. “Keep touching your breasts. Just like that. God look at you.”

  She whimpered as he brought his face down. Little shocks of electricity were running through her body as if she were a live wire.

  “You’re so pretty there. So wet and ready for me.”

  She couldn’t believe she’d ever thought him robotic. This dirty talking Commander of the Palace Guard was the biggest surprise of her life.

  “Do you want me to make you come?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He used the tip of his tongue and very little pressure, a tickle almost. “Better ask nice, dirty girl.”

  “Please,” she begged.

  “Please what?” Another soft tickle and the scrape of his beard on her inner thigh made her squirm, but he tamped down her legs. “Don’t stop touching yourself and tell me what you want.”

  She pinched her nipples and they both groaned. “Please make me come, Harmon. Use your mouth and make me come.”

  He’d hardly moved his jaw, just added a little pressure, and she fell off the cliff chanting his name. He didn’t stop. He kept at her, licking and sucking around her clit until she came down and he licked her there again, setting her off one more time.

  She shook and quaked, knowing that pieces of her were cracked forever. She had orgasms before, but nothing that shattered her so completely. She was broken. He’d broken her.

  “That’s it, love,” he said in that deep, rich voice that settled over her raw nerves like a blanket. “I’ve got you. Such a good girl.”

  She’d gone somewhere else, she realized now. She had no idea how long she’d been there, but she came aware that he was holding her, stroking her hair, telling her how good she was. How beautiful. And then he kissed her, feeding himself back into her, filling the strange new cracks and making her feel whole again.

  “I want to be inside you, Merriam. Is that what you want? Do you want me to make love to you?”

  “Yes,” she nearly sobbed. More than her next breath, she wanted him inside her, filling her.

  He reached for a condom from the welcome packet every camper had been given. She watched him lazily, thinking she should participate. Help him. But her bones had been replaced with liquid and she was of no use. Watching him roll the condom over himself caused a nice little stir within her though. Someday, she was going to taste him there again, when she had more time to linger.

  And then, he was over her, kissing her again. He didn’t seem to care that she was a sticky mess. He didn’t seem to care about anything at all except kissing her. Passion unfurled from her center and radiated outward to pull him into her spiral of frenzy. How could she be ready again so quickly?

  He paused. Pulled back. “You will take me—all of me. You will take me until I have nothing left to give.” Hovering over her, he whispered into her ear, “Tonight, you belong to me, Merriam.”

  Yes, yes, she did.

  Inch by inch, Harmon eased into her. She dug her nails into his shoulders, urging him to move faster, but he continued his agonizing pace until he was fully sheathed inside her. Then he rolled them over so she straddled him. She arched and he guided her hips up and down, each movement pulling and pushing her closer to an orgasm. He filled her everywhere.

  He gripped her like a life raft in a storm, and she could scarce hold on herself, as wave after tidal wave built and crescendoed within her. Harmon gathered her to him and bellowed as he released himself into her.

  And they belonged to each other.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Good morning, Campers!

  Pastry chef Allison and our dance instructor Sue are teaming up for a two-part class today and tomorrow—Meringue and Merengue—learn a dessert and a dance this week! They’ll be in the boathouse at 4 p.m. each day.

  We also have a special on hot stone massages and a midnight nature walk. Meet at the archery field at 11:50 for that.

  Don’t forget this evening is Puttin’ on the Ritz in the boathouse. Get your swanky on!

  Harmon watched the entrance to the boathouse. Every second of anticipation killing him.

  Why had he agreed to letting Merriam go unprotected? Again? Why was he waiting for her when he should be with her? Watching over her?

  She was rounding his edges too much. He needed to stop letting her do that. He couldn’t afford to be careless with her safety.

  But he wanted to please her. She only had a couple days left. He wanted to give her as much freedom as he could.

  And he was selfish.

  Last night had been the best night of his life. He lost track of how many times they’d made love. Everything about her turned him on, and he’d mapped her body with his hands and his tongue so he’d never forget.

  Like he would.

  He watched the door some more.

/>   She’d sworn she wouldn’t be alone, that she and her new friends just wanted to get ready for the Puttin’ on the Ritz party together. He’d checked in with the team. All was quiet. Stone had been brought in, questioned, and it was determined that he was just causing problems, just trying to embarrass the royal family. As usual. The immediate danger was gone. The king and the rest of the party were flying home, and he and Merriam were to fly out on Saturday night.

  He’d had a helluva time trying to sell the reason why he and Merriam were staying on. Prince Matthew had helped on that front, going so far as to thank Harmon for helping his sister have a few days more of peace.

  Harmon would never not feel guilty that he let his best friend thank him for banging his sister, but it wasn’t as if he could tell him that’s why they wanted to stay.

  All the women at the party were dressed to the nines, the men apparently not getting the memo to bring a suit or tux to camp. High heels, short skirts, long skirts, makeup, jewelry—he wondered if Merriam would wear the ball gown she arrived in.

  The staff wore tuxedos and brought champagne and canapes around on silver trays. He’d been to more black-tie affairs than he could possibly count, but this one, though not as posh, was fun for the guests. Instead of being polished and regal, everyone just enjoyed themselves.

  Everyone except him. But he was used to that.

  Movement near the door caught his eye and his heart stopped.

  She was beautiful.

  She didn’t wear the poufy dress from New York, though her friend Lucy seemed to have borrowed it. Merriam wore a black dress artfully tied like a short toga and draping over her skin like it could reveal more of her than she wanted at any moment. Her aunt would have had coronary failure if she’d arrived anywhere else wearing it. Merriam’s long curls bounced free, and her healthy glow came from her tan, though he’d like to think he helped it along.

  Harmon really liked making her glow.

  Collective murmurs let him know that the men at the party appreciated all four women walking in. But he was absolutely spellbound.

  She moved slowly across the room, her eyes holding his captive. Gossamer light, threaded with glittering dust, wove around her as if she were pulling it from the stars. Already he wanted to take her back to the cabin, though it had only been two hours since the last time he’d had her beneath him.

  When she stopped in front of him, he wanted to throw himself on the floor in front of her. Worship her.

  Instead he kissed her just below one ear. “You look beautiful. Where did you find that dress?”

  “It’s a scarf, actually.”

  The bottom of his stomach sank two inches. “A scarf? You mean it’s really only being held to your body with a few knots?”

  Her smile held the secrets of thousands of years of enchanting men. “It’s scandalous how easily you could have me out of this thing.”

  “How long do we have to stay here?” He could think of a thousand ways he’d rather pass the time than in this boathouse surrounded by people and bad music.

  She laughed. “Oh, no you don’t. I want to drink champagne and dance.”

  “I want to lick champagne out of your navel.”

  Her breath caught. “That sounds…amazing. But first…we dance.”

  Harmon liked that catch in her throat. He liked knowing he had the same power over her that she had on him. He would have preferred to take her to bed, but he didn’t mind holding her hand as they crossed the room and then pulling her close to him on the dance floor. She softened in his arms, as if his touch relaxed her.

  “I had the best day, Harmon. What was your favorite part?”

  “When you put your mouth—”

  She placed her fingers on his mouth. “Favorite part when we weren’t in bed?”

  Their day had been magical, but his favorite part wasn’t an activity. It was just being with her. But he couldn’t tell her that. He had to pull back his emotions, something he’d never struggled with before now. He wouldn’t ruin this with what couldn’t be. Not while they had right now. There would be plenty of time for the pain later.

  He kissed the inside of her wrist. “What did you like?”

  She pursed her lips as if trying to recall. “The couples massage was amazing.”

  “That it was.”

  “I liked the piggy back races on the lawn.”

  “You liked winning.”

  “Yes.” She nuzzled under his chin. “I enjoyed just relaxing in the sun for awhile. I can’t remember the last time I did that. But I know it was before Aunt Elaine’s reign of freckle avoidance.”

  “I like your freckles.”

  She sighed. “My favorite part, though, was when you put your mouth on my—”

  He kissed her quiet, letting the playfulness of the lazy, sun-filled day seep into his bones. “Tell me more about how easy it is to get you out of that dress.”

  “Well, first…is that my brother hitting on Lucy near the bar?”

  Harmon stiffened before he turned. “What the—” Sure enough, Prince Matthew was smiling down on the blonde across the room. She looked dazzled.

  He had no security detail around him. Harmon swallowed the ball of rage building in his throat. Damn the royal siblings. Did their lives mean nothing to them at all? He grasped the wrist of his runaway princess and stalked across the room, intent on killing the damned man himself.

  Merriam got in front of him. She must have sensed he was about to commit treason. She grabbed Matthew’s arm. “What are you doing here?”

  He smiled at her, making a face at her dress. “Hey, sis. Your postcards to home made me want to come out myself and see what was so great about camp.” He made wary eye contact with Harmon, narrowed his eyes and paused, and then looked at his sister again. A definite scowl replaced the devil-may-care attitude his face usually wore. He knew.

  Shit.

  Somehow, he knew.

  “Going to introduce me?” he looked from Merriam to Harmon.

  And then there was that. They were all undercover.

  Then he said, “Hi, I’m Martin.”

  Lucy grabbed Merriam’s arm, and Harmon had to tamp down his instinct to get between them and throw the poor girl across the room. He was not used to people getting this close to his principals. “This is your brother?”

  Merriam smiled tightly. “Lucy, meet my brother, Martin. Who is about to explain why he’s crashing my summer camp party.”

  Matthew turned on his charm, kissing her hand. “Lovely Lucy.”

  Which had Merriam rolling her eyes.

  “Martin, this is Harmon. He’s also…my friend.”

  Harmon shook Matthew’s hand. Hard. “Maryanne has told me all about you.”

  Matthew laughed. “Has she? Well, Maryanne is full of surprises, isn’t she?”

  “Well she didn’t tell me about you, Martin. And I’m interested to know everything about you.”

  Matthew, ever interested in someone who was interested in him, shifted his attention back to Lucy. “My life has been pretty boring until this moment, love.”

  Merriam’s lip curled up. “Lucy, let’s go to the ladies’.”

  “Now?”

  Merriam nodded.

  “Don’t go telling her stories about me, now,” Matthew called after them. Then he turned to Harmon. “I thought you were playing the part of her boyfriend. Not actually fu—”

  “Do not finish that sentence. Where are your guards?”

  “Now see that’s a funny story, mate.”

  “You have a death wish?”

  Matthew took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. He eyed the glass warily. “I’m going to regret drinking this, aren’t I?”

  “It’s not what you’re used to.” By several hundred dollars a glass. “Stop changing the subject. Why are you here without your guard?”

  “I wanted to make sure Merriam has a good time. Father told me about the arranged marriage. He’s not changing his mind. I tried.”


  “So, you fled your—”

  “You’re off your game, lad.” Matthew put a hand on his shoulder and pointed across the room, then to another corner, and to the door. “I brought three of your men here with me. And Andrews got here ahead of us. He’s been here with you for an hour. And you didn’t notice him.”

  The blood drained out of Harmon’s face as he realized it was true. He hadn’t been paying attention. Not to anything but Merriam.

  “I made arrangements with the camp. They think I’m an eccentric businessman willing to pay full price for a few days of camp for me and my corporate employees. Now, tell me what you’re doing to my sister.”

  Harmon shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

  “Bloody hell it’s not. You’ve been panting after each other for years and you pick now, the week before she is betrothed to another man, to make your move?”

  Harmon rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye. “We have not been after each other for years.”

  “Save it. You’re my best friend and she’s my sister. I know you both better than you know yourselves, and you’re officially the biggest idiot in the world.”

  Harmon bit back his temper. They were friends, yes. But he couldn’t punch the Prince of Sivartania and not face charges. No matter how much he deserved a solid face punch. “She wanted a fling. Her last before she was engaged. I couldn’t let her date any of the men here. They haven’t been vetted properly and…” He looked at Matthew’s droll expression. Damn it. Words started tripping out of his mouth. “I love her.”

  “You left your brains in Sivartania. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She is going to have to get married. Why did you fall in love with her?”

  Harmon grabbed the glass from Matthew’s hand and slammed it back. “Fuck you. Like I had a choice?”

  “All right. I’m sorry. Sorry for the both of you. Does she love you too?”

  “She hasn’t said.”

  “But you’ve said?” It was hard to surprise Matthew. He was fairly jaded, and he saw stunning things all the time. The reality of Harmon’s crappy situation threw the prince off his game. “Wait. You told her you love her?”