Then, Jayla turned around. Damon knew she was beautiful, but he had to admit his breath caught in his throat, and if possible, he hardened even more. As children they’d quarreled and played together. As adults, everything had changed.
Long, graceful legs, a slim waist, firm, high breasts, that halo of shining hair…she was a perfect female, or at least in his opinion she was fashioned exactly as he wanted. The cleft between her legs was bare, and he couldn’t wait to touch, to taste, to join with her and feel the exquisite tightness of her around his aching cock.
He was as bad at patience as he was at taking orders. In two strides he was close enough to sweep her up into his arms, ignoring her small inarticulate sound of outrage as he stalked through the doorway. He gave his surroundings a cursory glance—he hadn’t been in her private sleeping quarters since they were much younger—and deposited her on the bed. He followed her down, pinning her to the bed with his much larger body though he kept his weight carefully balanced. One finger traced the lower curve of her lip as he stared into her green eyes. “I always wondered what I’d say at this moment.”
“Something irritating no doubt.” Jayla teased, but she ran a hand over his shoulder in a slow journey of her fingers that was both a caress and a tentative exploration. “You have a knack for it.”
He had to smile. “What if I told you that I dream about you all the time? Wet dreams, naturally.”
“I’d say I’m glad I’m not the one who changes the bedding in your quarters.” Jayla spoke tartly, but her cheeks had taken on a flush of excitement and, against his bare chest, her breasts were tight.
One of the things he loved about her was her sense of humor even in the face of being raised in an environment where protocol was strictly enforced. “Hmm,” he said noncommittally, lowering his head, “they are very wicked dreams.” He licked her lower lip. “Shall I show you how to be very, very wicked, Jay?”
“That sounds interesting,” Kartel drawled in his even voice.
Damon glanced up and saw the new consort of Anasta unfastening his tunic. He was also obviously aroused, the bulge in his pants evident. Damon smiled darkly. “Absolutely. Let’s make this a night she’ll remember forever.”
* * * *
There were two of them, much larger, both imposingly male. Jayla was glad she’d accepted from her cousin a lozenge that Delia told her would not only enhance the sexual experience but also ease any discomfort from her earlier experience with Marc. She’d inserted it into her vaginal passage when she’d excused herself, anticipating another joining. Even now, she felt warm and wet between her legs and a sort of fierce inner excitement that both startled and intrigued her.
They knew what to do and she was a novice—that point was not arguable. But she’d enjoyed it when Damon had kissed her, and even more when Marc had coaxed from her body that remarkable physical pleasure, and the idea of both of them touching her made a shiver run up her spine.
Marc with his compelling charisma, and Damon with his intense passion. Two very different males, who would be undoubtedly very different lovers.
The hard length of Damon’s cock rubbed suggestively against her hip as he took her lips in another one of those devastating kisses. His tongue pressed deep into her mouth, his long-fingered hands tangling in her hair, and when he shifted more fully on top of her, his knees parted her thighs.
“Relax and let me in,” he whispered against her mouth, and she felt the inexorable nudge of his cock at her feminine opening. His entry was slow and restrained, very un-Damon, and a soft groan accompanied the moment when he sheathed himself fully inside her.
He was every bit as large as Marc, and the intimate possession was marvelous, especially with the lubricant and aphrodisiac in the capsule she’d used. Jayla pressed the small of his back, as if it would bring them even closer, lifting her hips. “Oh.”
“We’re together,” he said in a hoarse whisper, his dark eyes glittering under half-lowered lids. “Tied to each other forever, Jay. It’s never felt like this before because it’s you, and it’s me, and somehow I always knew one day…”
He trailed off and she wished she could tell him she’d known it too, because she had, but instead she squirmed a little, the need for him to move banishing all thoughts of poignant introspection.
That would have to come later, when he wasn’t deep inside her, when her body didn’t need sexual culmination. “Damon, do something,” she implored, arching beneath him.
“Kartel must be rubbing off on you,” he muttered, “because you just read my mind.”
He began to move, a slow withdrawal first, the backward slide of his sex making her quiver, and then the inward thrust where they both closed their eyes. Damon’s arms were braced on either side of her shoulders. Intoxicated by sensation, she inhaled both the musky scent of lovemaking and the masculine tang from his damp skin and moaned in pure erotic enjoyment.
With every thrust she moved higher, rapturous tingles turning into a haze of pleasure that held her spellbound until finally she soared free, clinging to Damon as he shuddered, his cock flexing inside her as he poured out his release and groaned her name.
In the aftermath, she ran her fingers through the tousled silk of his ebony hair, murmuring, “You weren’t too annoying just now, I suppose.”
His cock was still deep inside her and Damon lifted his head to give her a lazy grin. “I’ll have to try harder next time.”
“Or give me a chance.” A deep voice suggested.
In the drift of post-coital bliss, she’d all but forgotten about Marc.
Her husband now by law, her consort, and her first lover. A male generous enough—and wise enough—to gift her time with Damon. Jayla turned her head and saw he reclined on the bed next to them, propped on one elbow, a faint, attractive smile on his mouth. Nude, his muscled chest wide and hard, his erection prominent, he was just as magnificent a specimen as Damon, and a good deal more of an enigma. While she understood Damon’s reckless, stubborn brilliance, she had yet to explore Marc’s complex personality.
Damon rolled off of her, the loss of his withdrawal mitigated by the sudden gathering of her lax body into the arms of the male lying next to her. Marc whispered in her ear, his breath warm and mesmerizing, “You are incomparably beautiful in your pleasure, Princess.”
His chest was hard, strong, and lower, he was clearly infinitely aroused, his erection rigid and pulsing. Sated, she still felt an odd stirring. “I’m glad you think so.”
“I like watching you come.” He nibbled impudently on her earlobe, causing a shiver to run up her spine.
Damon was dangerous enough. Could she handle another such volatile male? “I’ll do my best to please you,” she said with as much asperity as she could summon in the aftermath of such erotic splendor.
“I’m not sure you have to do much of anything.” His grin was lazy, as was the drift of his hand through her disordered hair. “Your beauty alone would arouse any male, and I like your fiery abandon, my Princess.”
More often she was described as cool and aloof and she found she liked his different perception. More than that, she was aware of Damon, watching them.
It was inexplicably exciting.
As was what happened next. Marc shifted over her, his kiss possessive, yet tender at the same time, and as he slid his rigid cock inside her, she clamped her inner thighs on his hips and shuddered in pleasure. The penetration was deep, the feel of the invasion complete, and yet she was very aware of Damon, still next her.
When he touched her, the lightest caress of his fingertips over her bare hip as she moved in concert with Marc’s measured thrusts, the very brush of the caress caused a wicked thrill to warm her blood. She was acutely aware of Damon’s touch even in the haze of pleasure with another male.
Somehow, it made it all the more decadent, all the more sublime. And finally, when she rose against the final inward stroke that signaled the pinnacle, she let out a wild cry. In turn Marc caught her hips and went ri
gid, his eyes tightly shut as his cock pulsed with his release.
In the aftermath, as she drifted, warm lips teased her neck. “I always knew you’d be hot as a glowing planet core, Jay.”
Damon had thought about it, she realized with a languid satisfaction.
So had she.
But she’d never dreamed it would be quite like this.
Chapter Eight
The images flickered across the screen—a melee of moving forms, flashes of light against the darkness, and in the background, screams.
Ran reached out and pressed a key, replayed it one more time, and then turned to face the other occupants of the room. “Thank you for arriving so quickly. The explosion happened”—he flicked a glance at one of the screens set into the surface of the polished conference table—“less than an hour ago.”
“Do you have any information on the source?” one of the council members asked.
He nodded grimly. “Not specifically yet, but I think I can make an educated guess. We detected the incineration devices planted in Minoa’s most-used municipal buildings over a week ago. Our military experts say the weapons were set to go off not on timers or by remote signal, but the detonation was linked to a single individual scanning through the security system at the highest level. The explosion you just saw occurred in the Judicial Federal building on Mega 3.”
“Mass murder to eliminate one?” A gray-haired retired governor who had been on the council since before Ran was born shook his head, his expression disillusioned and saddened. “Hundreds, even thousands, can be in those buildings at any given time.”
“Quite a statement, isn’t it?” Ran said grimly. “Every building with that level of security in the colony is being scoured for any other threats and warnings were sent to other planets. Unfortunately, Mega 3, as you just saw, must have either missed the device or not taken the advised precautions seriously.”
“Do you have a count of the casualties?” General Ian Helm asked grimly. “I’ve dispatched relief troops to help manage the situation but I’m not getting much back in the way of information.” He’d been busy with his personal communication device the whole meeting, jabbing in codes.
“From what I understand it’s too hot to get close enough to start recovering bodies just yet and the reports coming in are patchy since the colony’s main communication center is close enough it was apparently damaged.”
“So this is widespread interstellar terrorism.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement made by one of the female members, a former federal judge. “Has any other colony discovered devices besides Minoa?”
“Two,” Ran confirmed. “But Minoa seems to have a more widespread threat.”
The conference room was quiet for a moment, then Colonel Helm asked the logical question in his usual brusque way, “Who is the individual target, Governor?”
Ran looked his old friend in the eye. “I am.”
“I was afraid of that,” Ian muttered, tucking his communication device back in his pocket. “Leaders are being targeted then. That disturbs me.”
“You are telling me this?” Ran gave a mirthless laugh. “My son just became the Consort of Princess Jayla of Anasta. Surely the most powerful colonies are the most attractive to whoever is doing this.”
And it was not something he was going to point out to his wife, who worried over Marc already.
Anasta hadn’t yet responded to the warning, but with this new development on Mega 3, he hoped to get a message soon.
* * * *
They argued like children, Marc discovered to his amusement, and perhaps it was a good thing he’d spent so much time in the diplomatic corps. Jayla narrowed her eyes and stared at Damon, every inch the royal princess. “This meeting is very important.”
“You are telling me that?” Damon returned her scathing look with nothing more than a raised brow. “I am the one with my future riding on the open-minded grace of the Ruling Council. Grace, by the way, I am unconvinced exists.”
“At the least you could have worn the assigned tunic.”
“No. I am what I am, Jay,” Le Clerc said stubbornly. “Changing my clothes to the regimental diplomatic uniform isn’t going to fool anyone and may even lessen my credibility. They know what they are agreeing to. They expect to see me. The trappings are superfluous.”
“Do you always have to do everything the most difficult way?” She looked, adorably—in Marc’s opinion—irritated, a slight flush to her cheeks, her sleek pale hair tossed back and her green eyes disapproving. She was dressed to impress in a scarlet flowing tunic past her knees, the trim a pale gold color that exactly matched her shining hair. Marc, also, well-used to governmental formalities on all different kinds of planets, wore a full-dress Anasta official uniform that had been delivered to him just that morning. Damon, on the other hand, was casual in a loose white shirt and fitted dark pants, his boots not particularly new.
He looked considerably more comfortable, Marc had to acknowledge wryly, but then again, he wasn’t the new consort of Anasta either. The sacrifice was worth it, in his opinion. He could change later.
“Do you always have to insist on conformity?” Damon muttered, refusing to be cowed by her imperious criticism. “I’m a full-grown male and well past the time in my life when you could instruct me on what to wear. My clothes have nothing to do with the issues we face.”
“That sort of attitude is always what gets you in trouble,” Jayla pointed out.
Marc laughed, which won him a glare from both the participants in the quarrel. “I’d stay here and watch until the two of you came to blows, but—”
“My Lord Consort?” The interruption was in conjunction to the door lifting into the anteroom with no warning. “The Queen would like to see you at once.”
The new title was a little startling, but he could get used to it. Marc nodded, straightened his tunic, and sent both Jayla and Damon a swift glance. “It looks like we are about to have our audience. Try and behave for a few minutes if you find it possible.”
The anteroom seemed unusually full, but Marc wasn’t all that familiar yet with what was normal and wasn’t when it came to the court protocol on the planet, though he had naturally studied it as much as possible before his arrival. He entered first but paused to let Jayla precede him into the actual council room, and in that calculated moment, he turned to Damon. “This is as important to me as it is to you. Let me speak first and set it up. I am the diplomat to your revolutionary. We need each other. I’ll do my job first, and trust me, I’m good at it. Then it is up to you.”
“You’re going to need all your skill, Kartel.” Damon agreed with surprising acquiescence considering his resistance to compromise, his smile wry. “But I trust if anyone can convince them, you can.”
They went into the room together, a strategic move that he hadn’t planned but came naturally and proved effective, for both of them. The meeting area was spacious, with a curved ceiling to mimic the bowl-like atmosphere above the planet, the color a deep sapphire lightened by synthetic cosmic fires, simulated perfectly so it echoed the Anasta night sky. The Ruling Council sat at a polished semi-circular table of some kind of silver stone, most of them elders, a reflection of the colony’s monarchial mode of government. The queen was next to Raphael Le Clerc at the center of the arch, and neither seemed surprised by the united front, though when both Marc and Damon stopped on either side of Jayla, a few murmurs were exchanged.
A thin older male with a shock of white hair and a stately bearing rose. “Princess and my Lord Consort, welcome. Take your seats and let us begin.”
Two places had been reserved for them, Marc saw, to one side, on a small raised platform, and it was obvious, as only honorary members of the council, they were not given voice projectors, so it looked unlikely they were going to be allowed to participate in the debate over Damon’s appointment.
But for the moment, he had the floor and part of diplomacy was showmanship, after all, and this was his first appearance
before the ruling body of the planet he now called home. Besides making a good impression, he had a vested interest in Damon Le Clerc’s success. Marc bowed swiftly and caught Jayla’s hand, bringing it theatrically to his lips. “I am honored to be here and enchanted in every other way possible as well.” He smiled at his wife, noting with amusement Jayla seemed both startled and wary.
Letting her fingers slide free, he addressed the council with the kind of informal yet effective speech he’d seen his father employ dozens of times. “I’ve come here in a time when our world and many others are going through changes, some of them bewildering, some frightening, but some optimistic. I am encouraged that free-thinkers with progressive ideals and sound working models for future growth and economic stability take chances to make their work known”—he smiled in deprecating acknowledgement that Damon’s methods were not popular—“even if perhaps we don’t agree with their tactics. How much better if we can control that brilliance to our own ends?”
All yours, Le Clerc.
Marc led Jayla toward their seats, politely helping her into the chair. Her expression neutral, as he sat down next to her, she said so quietly even he almost didn’t catch it, “Will I be eternally thanking you for stepping in on his behalf?”
Marc watched in appreciation as she settled the scarlet fabric of her tunic around her slender legs. “I don’t know,” he answered with a low laugh, sitting next to her and resting his hands on the arms of the chair. “It depends on whether or not he behaves himself after his appointment.”
“Then I suppose my gratitude is doomed to be eternal,” she murmured, her profile clean aristocratic—chin lifted just slightly, lashes lowered, her expression serene. “I swear, I want to kick him half the time. Brilliance, as you call it, is not an indication of good sense.”
Her disgruntled tone made him twitch a smile. “But not necessarily mutually exclusive. Let’s see how he does, shall we?”
* * * *
His critics wore various expressions varying from skeptical to downright forbidding, but Damon had to give Kartel credit. If the situation could be presented in a light the old guard of the Anasta ruling body would consider, he’d just done it with a few facile words.
Wolfe, Annabel - Secrets of a Reckless Princess [The Starlight Chronicles 4] (Siren Publishing PolyAmour) Page 6