Her Prince (The Wounded Souls Series Book 6)

by Leah Sharelle

  We had been a couple for eighteen months and engaged for the last six. He was eager to tell our families and get our lives started, but I was still hesitant to tell anyone until I could prove myself to Booth and the rest of the members. I knew Zander would always have my back. All through our childhood, it was Zander and me, getting in trouble, creating chaos around the compound, and driving our parents crazy. There wasn’t really a time I could remember when Zander wasn’t at my back, but there was a small niggle in the back of my mind that the only reason anyone would say yes to my request was that he was at my back, not because they trusted me to lead them. I needed them to believe in me, Shiloh Johnston, before I became Shiloh Stephens.

  “You still with me, Spunky?” Zander’s concerned tone dragged me from my worries.

  Shit, get out of your head, Shiloh, I admonished myself, then nodded my head. My bottom lip caught between my teeth when I realised during my pondering, Zander had removed the rest of his clothes. Gone were the tight denim jeans, revealing his thick, muscled thighs and… oh my, his magnificent cock. Drool pooled at the sides of my mouth as hunger replaced my previous state of mind. Without waiting for instructions, I slowly removed my bralette and let the scrap of black lace fall to the carpet, leaving me in only my pink lace panties.

  “Turn around, Shiloh, and take those panties off nice and slow. Show me what belongs to me.”

  I moaned aloud at the dominance in Zander’s voice. My God, if he asked me to take out the rubbish in that commanding tone, I fucking would. The man had power over me, but only him, only Zander.

  Giving him my back, I slowly inched the lace down my hips and deliberately pushed my bottom out, my whole body shaking with desire. I knew if I looked over my shoulder, I would see Zander pumping his long, thick cock in his hand as he watched my show.

  When the lace fell down my legs and pooled at my feet, I heard a low grunt of approval from much closer behind me. I could feel the heat radiating from Zander’s skin, and when his arm snaked around my neck, and his hand rested on my throat, my body shuddered.

  “You are such a good girl doing everything I asked. I think it’s time for a reward. Do you want me to give you something, Shiloh?” His whispered words feathered against my ear, causing another flood of wetness from my centre.

  “Please, touch me, baby, and put your scent back on me,” I begged, my body craving his calloused fingers to brand me.

  I felt a gentle bite to my earlobe and the slight sting from his teeth, then the exquisite warmth of his tongue as he lathed the area.

  “Hmmm, my princess is begging. Does she want this?” Suddenly, Zander’s other hand found its way between my legs and straight to the promised land. Strong, thick, calloused fingers traced up and down my incredibly wet fold, and a moan burst from lips, echoing in my ears. Oh, he knew exactly how I needed it. With slow, calculated strokes, two fingers rubbed up and down, but he didn’t push them inside me, not yet. No, my Zander did things at his own speed, his own way. I loved that he knew how to pleasure me before I even knew I wanted it that way.

  “Yessssss,” I hissed, answering his question. “She wants more.” I cried out when one finger suddenly dipped inside, and my core automatically clenched around the digit.

  “So fucking tight. So fucking wet.”

  His growled words tickled my ear in a way that didn’t make me laugh. It was sensation overload, and the throbbing and desperate need to come was all too much. Just as I was about to beg for the second time in minutes, I was moved to the bed behind me, my back pushed to the soft mattress as my legs were spread and placed over Zander’s shoulders.

  Before I could process the change in direction, Zander’s mouth landed possessively on my pussy.

  “Zander!” Instinctually, my hips raised higher off the bed closer to his mouth and clever tongue, which was now deep within my channel.

  His approving growl caused yet another gush. “That’s it, princess. Grind your soaking cunt on my mouth. Come all over me.”

  Again and again, with open-mouthed kisses, he feasted on me like I was his last meal. My fists clenched a handful of the sheet as I writhed and gyrated against his devouring lips.

  “Zander, baby, I want to come with you buried inside me,” I whimpered as I fought the delicious release barrelling down on me. My vision was beginning to blur, and I knew I was losing the fight.

  “Mouth then cock,” Zander demanded before diving back to my oversensitive pussy.

  I should have known Zander would demand this of me since he always insisted my pleasure came first and was most important. Didn’t he know that he and only he was the best pleasure I could ever have?

  “Oh, yes, I’m coming. Ohhh.” Stars burst behind my closed eyes, and my breath was stolen as I cried out and came hard. My body bowed off the bed as all-consuming waves of pleasure pulsed through me.

  “Fucking perfect.” Zander grunted and jumped to his feet, dragging my limp body closer to the edge of the bed as he hooked my legs over his powerful forearms. “And all fucking mine.” With one thrust, his hard cock entered me. My orgasm was barely finished, and my pussy still spasmed as he drove hard into me, burying himself so deeply I felt a slight flash of pain. His hips pistoned in and out of me with fast and powerful thrusts, his face taut with control and his mouth covered in my juices. I ached to lick the gleaming liquid from his lips and taste myself on him. I shivered at the naughty thought. Only Zander could make me think such taboo things.

  “Fuck, those little whimpers and moans turn me the fuck on, Spunky. Keep making them, and you are going to find yourself filled with my cum too soon,” Zander said with a groan as I gave a low moan and clenched around him, making it impossible for him to pull out. “Yes, Shiloh, make me explode. Squeeze that cum right out of me.”

  “I need to touch you,” I whispered desperately. He was too far away. I wanted his big body on me, and my breasts ached to be against his warm skin.

  Letting go of my legs, Zander lowered himself so our bodies could come together to reacquaint ourselves. It had been over twelve hours since I’d had this. During the time we’d spent in the main room, we were careful not to touch each other or let anyone see our connection, fearful the others would be able to tell he was my other half and my reason for breathing. They couldn’t know. Not yet.

  “Kiss me.” The smell of my sweet, musky scent on his mouth hit my nostrils, causing an avalanche of passion from me.

  Without answering, Zander crashed his mouth to mine, and the tangy taste of my desire filled my mouth and lips. Our tongues wrestled for dominance, which Zander’s won, of course, and he took control of the kiss all while his hips ground deep into my mound. His pubic bone pressed hard against my clit, sending shivers and tiny explosions through me.

  “Now!” The bellowed command vibrated against my lips, getting the exact reaction it demanded. My core tightened around his steel hard cock, then the next second, bright lights blinded me again, and a scream tore out of me at the same time a feral roar erupted from Zander as his body went impossibly rigid above me. Even in my current state, I took the time to marvel at the wonder that was Zander when he climaxed, and I felt the hot jets of cum filling me so full, so much. Mine.

  “We need to talk about things, Shiloh,” Zander whispered against my throat, his breathing coming out in heavy pants after our lovemaking.

  I gave a long sigh and held him tighter, not minding that his sweat mingled with mine. Knowing I was being so unfair to him, dread replaced some of the sated feelings. I was expecting too much from him.

  “I know, honey,” I whispered back, my lips pressing to his bare shoulder.

  I felt his head give a slight nod.

  “I love you so much,” he whispered again, making me happy and sad all at the same time. Time was running out. It was time I made a decision and gave Zander what he and I wanted.

  I snuggled deeper into his warmth. “You are my reason, Zander. Always know I love you,” I said quietly, praying that he believed me
and kept believing in me.

  His arms tightened around me in response.

  “I believe you,” he replied sleepily. I laid there in my favourite place to be, wondering how he knew what I was thinking.

  Chapter 4

  Zander

  I was not in a good mood. I should be in a good mood after having made love to my woman the night before, making her come first with my mouth and then my cock, hearing her sweet erotic moans and coming pretty fucking hard myself. Yep, I should be fucking awesome. But when I woke up this morning, I was greeted with an empty bed instead of a warm, sweet Shiloh beside me to help me with my raging morning hard-on.

  I hated spending the night at the compound. The place I grew up that had once held a feeling of safety and family now just pissed me off. It was now a place that robbed me of waking up with my woman in my arms, and that was not something I liked.

  We fought hard to be with each other. My age was a small issue at the start of our relationship because Shiloh is four years older than me and thought I needed someone my own age or younger, but I called bullshit on that crap right away. Just the thought of being with someone else made my stomach turn. It had always been Shiloh Johnston, the princess of the Wounded Souls since I was twelve years old. Of course, I never alluded that to her then—after all, I was only twelve, and at twelve years old, that would not have been so good to tell either her or my parents. I felt a smirk on my face as I thought about telling Deck that I was going to claim his daughter even though, at twelve, I looked like a sixteen-year-old. The SAA would have cut my dick off.

  “Zander, that helicopter Mick brought in the other day for a going over? They want to know if you can hold back on working on it for a few days. They want to replace the rotors but are looking into another brand,” Lucky yelled at me from across the hanger.

  I turned my head to the heavens and prayed for patience. Mick was a good mate and a good client—we serviced all his aircraft—but lately, he had been pulling jobs and putting them on hold to search for cheaper parts than the ones we offered. Suddenly, he was all about cost-cutting, aftermarket parts so he could save a few bucks.

  “Well, he could have fucking well said something when he brought her in. I don’t have the workroom for a fucking chopper just sitting there. If he fucking wants shit parts, he can fucking take the fucking thing somewhere the fuck else,” I yelled back, taking the spanner in my hand and hurling it in the direction of the Jet Ranger in question, my aim coming close to hitting the tail rotor. “You tell him WS Flight School and Air Services doesn’t give a shit that he wants to do things on the cheap. If he wants me to work on his piece of shit, he does it my way and my parts,” I added, then stalked over to the piece of shit and picked up the hundred-and-twenty-dollar spanner. Fucking hope Ford didn’t see that. The club’s money man didn’t take too kindly to members throwing things. Booth’s reputation for throwing expensive electronic gadgets was legendary.

  “So that’s a yes,” came the droll reply, making me lift my middle finger to my boss and club brother.

  “Whatever, but from now on, he is upfront about his intentions, and if I am not happy with the parts he brings me, he can go fuck himself and pay for the good ones. I am not working on something only to have it fail because the cheap bastard wants to save his money for his young wife’s plastic surgery.”

  “Got it. Saggy boobs for the wife. Good parts for the helicopter,” Lucky said with a mock salute, turning away quickly before I could throw the spanner at him this time. Fucking smart-arse.

  I walked back to my toolbox to replace the tool when I heard the sweet voice of my mother.

  “Zander Apollo Stephens! Do you have any idea how many F-words you just said?”

  The low grumbled laugh of my father followed seconds later, not that it surprised me to hear him laugh or that he was here—where my mum went my dad followed. I looked over at my parents and smiled, the bad mood I was just in suddenly pushed to the side. These two people in front of me were the best two people I knew. They were amazing together, their love so strong and fierce it had always inspired me to have it for myself. I had that same love with Shiloh, and there was no doubt in my mind about that.

  “Hey, Mama. How you doing, old man?” I quickly made my way to where my parents were standing, ignoring the growl from my dad at the old man comment. I reached out to take my mum’s hand from my father’s grasp and immediately placed her palm on my cheek, she then brought her other hand to my face and did her thing, softly tracing over my lips then up to my forehead, feeling for my mood.

  “A small smile but also a frown. What is wrong, sweet boy?”

  I rolled my eyes and glanced at my dad, his smirk matching my own.

  “Just annoying customers pissing me off, so the usual,” I replied, but my mum knew me better than anyone. She might be blind, but the woman never missed anything when it came to her beloved kids. Her sixth sense or gift, whatever you wanted to call it, was always dead on.

  “Do not lie to me, Zander. Six times you said fuck. A client does not make you that angry.”

  I couldn’t help laughing at the way mum whispered the curse word as if saying it too loud was a bad thing. Being raised in the MC world, swearing was like breathing. Well, it was for the men. For the most part, the women didn’t swear much at all, Aunt Charlotte being the only one who never cursed. She said things like fiddlesticks and fudge or salt and pickles, which I found very amusing because her daughter, my fiancée, had a mouth on her like a sailor when she got going.

  “Everything all right, boy?” my dad asked. For as long as I could remember, Dad had called me boy, and even today, at twenty years old and a good six inches taller than him, he still referred to me as a boy.

  Sighing, I shook my head at my dad, then kissed the inside of Mum’s palm.

  “Got a lot of shit on my mind, that’s all. We are flat out here in the workshop, the flight school is booked to capacity with students, and with Cole going to Puckapunyal, I am down one pilot. Mick is being an arsehole, and I have to plan the route for the run we have planned next week,” I told them, ticking off each grievance on my fingers. They weren’t the main reasons I was in a foul mood, but they were legitimate all the same. I was overbooked with students and services, and I was down a pilot with my brother joining the army. Lucky taught my brother Cole and I to fly when we turned sixteen. By the age of seventeen, I had my private helicopter licence, and by eighteen, I had my commercial licence. Cole did, too, then he got a job here and had been flying scenic flights and deliveries, giving me a chance to finish up my aviation mechanics apprenticeship. Now he was out, and I was pulling triple duty.

  “Uh-huh, and Shiloh?” Mum asked, her scary intuition rearing its head.

  “Angel,” Dad said with a growl, which held no heat. Just a gentle warning. Mum tended to act like a grizzly bear mama when it came to any of her kids. Cole, Dane, Chase, and our little sister, Willow, all enjoyed the sweet over-protectiveness from our mother. Willow had it a little harder than us boys because, from the day she was born, our dad went into crazy alpha mode—more than his usual—and she was never far from his sight when she wasn’t at school. At fourteen, she was the youngest and the most protected of us kids. My dad was not a man who apologised for the way he loved his family. Before my siblings and I were born, Dad had another family. My mum used to be his sister-in-law, but unfortunately, Dad lost his first wife and their unborn child in a horrific motorcycle accident. After that, he kind of went off the grid when it came to being in love. That was until my mum pulled his head out of his arse. According to Mum, there was a time when Dad never smiled, which I found so hard to believe. In every childhood memory up to now, my dad was always smiling, especially if Mum was around.

  There was one thing he still didn’t do, though. He never took a pillion passenger on the back of his bike, and I mean never. I loved the feeling of having Shiloh pressed close against me on my bike. Her soft body moulded to mine, her arms wrapped around my waist, her
long, sexy legs… Jesus Christ, just imagining those sexy legs had the wrong effect on my dick at the worst possible time. Mum wouldn’t see me adjusting myself, but Dad certainly would.

  “Apollo, don’t Angel me. Our son is having a crisis.”

  I rolled my eyes at hearing that. Mum thought everything concerning Shiloh was a crisis. My parents knew Shiloh and I were in a relationship, but they had no idea about the engagement. That did not sit well with me. One of the main rules we lived by at the club was honesty. It was an essential part of our brotherhood, and here I was, breaking it every single day by lying about what Shiloh was to me and how I felt about her. It was a fucking frustrating situation to be in, and I hated it. Shiloh’s time was quickly slipping away. She had to tell the guys about us and her intention to lead the club as the president soon. For some fucking reason, she thought that with her being a woman, she wasn’t going to be taken seriously. She thought if the brothers knew I was her fiancé, they would be more accepting of her leadership. Again, I called bullshit on that.

  The Wounded Souls wasn’t a conventional motorcycle club, and we didn’t operate under the usual guidelines. Our club worked on respect and loyalty, no matter what gender. Booth was in agreement with Shiloh taking over, and so was I, and being a patched officer, I had a vote. I wasn’t voting yes just because I shared a bed with the princess and planned on sharing a life with her. I was voting yes because she deserved to lead the club. She loved it with a passion. It had been her whole life, literally, since birth, and she had endured enough pain for it in her childhood.

  All the Souls kids knew about Rogue and what he cost the club members, how he terrorised the women and Shiloh, and even Mum suffered at the hands of the bastard. Both Mum and Shiloh were present when one of the favourite members of the club was killed by Rogue. Pregnant with me at the time, Mum was there when a four-year-old Shiloh watched her beloved bodyguard, Darth, die.