by Tracy Wolff
“If you won’t let me be part of the raid, at least let me be in the helicopter waiting for him. I want him to see my face when they get him on board. I want him to know I’m there. Please. I need to be there when they get him.”
“You want to be there because you want revenge on the people who did this to him. You can try to sell me—and yourself—a bill of goods about why you really want to be there, but I know the truth. And so do you.”
“Justice, not revenge.”
“Of course.” My father lets out a disbelieving snort. “Tell that to someone you don’t have so much in common with.”
“We don’t have anything in common!” The words are out before I can even think to stop them. Then again, I’m not sure I even would have tried, had I known they were brewing.
“Keep telling yourself that, boy. Maybe you’ll actually believe it someday.”
“If anyone is like you, it’s Garrett. He’s smart and careful and—”
“The perfect crown prince, and so on. I am aware. You need to remember that your brother is exactly what I trained him to be. But you—”
“I was untrainable.”
“Completely incorrigible,” he agrees. “You listened too little and cared too much.”
“Then how—”
“You think I was born like this?” he demands. “This stodgy old ruler with no sense of humor who always puts duty first?”
“Actually, yes.”
He laughs. My father actually laughs at something I said. Trust it to be the one time I wasn’t going for levity.
“Kian, from the time you could walk, you’ve been running from your birthright. And I let you, because Garrett was firstborn. And because he had the temperament to rule in a way you never have—”
“Excuse me, sir?” We both look up to see my father’s assistant, Darius, hovering by the doorway. “The generals are here and they request your presence in the conference room.”
My father and I exchange a look and I feel my stomach sink as fear sets in. Now that the mission I’ve been pushing for over the last several days is imminent, I’m terrified something will go wrong.
Intel shows that Garrett is being held in one of two places, both in the north. While the officials are convinced that he’s being held in a small compound outside of Bayeux, there’s a farm in the Rennes area that has raised enough flags that we’ve decided to hit both places at the same time.
“I want to go to Bayeux.” I make one more pitch to my father as we walk toward the conference room where we’ll be briefed one more time. If everything is as it should be, my father will order the mission a go, and in a few hours, my brother will be on a helicopter back to the palace. I want to be on that helicopter.
“I’ve already explained why that’s impossible,” he says, impatience rife in his voice. “Now stop whining about it like a child and start acting like a prince. What we’re about to do entails risking the lives of more than two dozen Wildermarian soldiers. That is not an order you should ever give lightly.”
“You think I don’t understand that? I am a Wildemarian soldier.”
We arrive at the conference room before he can say anything else. Then again, there really isn’t anything else to say right now. Not when he refuses to budge. No matter what my stance is on the issue, no matter how impeccable my military record is, if he doesn’t want me on one of those helicopters, I won’t be on one.
It infuriates me even as I replay my father’s arguments in my head. What infuriates me more is, if I leave emotion out of it, I can see the logic in what he said. I may not agree with him, but I do understand that putting me in danger when we know nothing about the state of Garrett’s health is a danger to Wildemar. And no matter how much I wish it wasn’t so, my duty is to protect my country in whatever way necessary. Even if that means keeping my ass at home instead of on the helicopter bound to rescue the true crown prince.
The briefing doesn’t take long. One more look at intelligence that was uncovered regarding the militia group—and the two most likely places that Garrett is being held. A rundown of what the two concurrent missions look like, and though it hurts, I keep my mouth shut about going along with them.
And then they’re asking for the go order and my father—the king—is giving it. Within seconds, it’s under way and there’s nothing that can be done to stop it.
“What happens next?” I ask General Marceau, director of Wildemar’s Royal Air Corps and one of two men in charge of this mission.
“Now we wait, Your Highness. The choppers will be taking off in the next fifteen minutes. If things go as planned, they’ll drop the infiltration team in approximately three hours. After that, we’ll need to take things as they come. See how it all plays out.”
“That doesn’t sound very confident,” I growl. The last thing I want to hear when we’re talking about my brother’s life are words like ‘play.’ ”
“Actually, I’m very confident, sir. But it’s in my nature to be cautious, and the truth is, we won’t know until we know.”
He’s right. I’ve run enough missions of my own to know he’s right, and still I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin. Still I feel like I’m caught in some kind of nightmare that just won’t end. Every second that passes is an eternity, and as the generals head out to do whatever it is they will do until the mission goes live, I know that I’ll go insane if I have to stay here in this room and wait, just wait, for three excruciatingly long hours.
Grabbing my phone off the table, I hightail it out of the room and down the hall. I text Lucas while I walk, so that he, Niall and Avery are waiting for me when I make it downstairs.
One look at my face shuts them up completely. No joking around, no asking about Garrett, nothing. The thirty-minute ride feels like death. I pray it isn’t a sign of what’s to come.
It’s not until Lucas—who I let drive because my head is so messed up—pulls over to the curb in front of Savvy’s cottage that I realize I didn’t even call to give her a heads-up. Or ask her if it was okay for me to come by. I just fled here like a wounded animal looking for comfort, for someone to make it all better. I’m not sure what it says that Savvy is that person for me and right now, I don’t give a shit. All I want is to see her, to hold her, to lose myself in her to forget that I might very well lose my brother today.
If I haven’t already.
I pull out my phone, think about texting her, but I don’t have the energy or the patience to wait for her to answer. And so I all but fall out of the SUV and stumble up the front walk to her house. Lucas and Niall are right behind me. They don’t speak, but then, they don’t need to. They’ve been with me long enough to know just how messed up I am right now.
I knock on her door—pound is probably a better description—and it flies open after a few seconds. Then Savvy is standing here in an oversized purple T-shirt that reaches her thighs and not much else.
She looks surprised to see me, but one look at my face turns that surprise to alarm. “Kian? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Her gaze darts from my face to Lucas’s and Niall’s. I’m not sure what she sees there, but suddenly she’s reaching for me, pulling me inside. Slamming the door on my detail.
“Kian? Baby?” she murmurs as her arms wind around me. “What can I do? What do you ne—”
I cut her off with a kiss, and not just any kiss. I slam my mouth down onto hers, then take her backward so fast that even my head spins. I don’t stop until her back is against the closed door, and even then all I do is cup my hands under her ass and lift her up so that her sex is pressed against my suddenly very hard dick.
She gasps in surprise, even as she wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips.
“I need—” I break off as her lips part under mine. And then I’m fisting a hand in her hair, pulling her head this way and that as I savage her mouth and mutter incomprehensible things against her. Into her.
“Take it,” she gasps out when I finally give her the chance
to breathe. “Take whatever you want. Whatever you need.”
I don’t know how she knows that’s what I need to hear right now, but I take her at her word, reaching a hand beneath her shirt and ripping her underwear off with one sharp tug.
Then I’m lowering her feet back to the ground, dropping to my knees in front of her. And burying my face against the slick, wet heat of her.
“Kian!” This time when she says my name it’s high-pitched and trembly. It hits me where it hurts, has lust shooting through me like a rocket until all I can think about—all I can hear or see or feel—is her.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” I put her right ankle over my shoulder and start to kiss my way up the inside of her leg. She gasps, startles a little, but I pet her hip until she relaxes back against the door again.
But I still have one hand in her hair and I tug on the ends a little, keep her face tilted down toward me. I need to see her eyes, need to know she’s as much a part of this as I am, need to be sure I’m not just sweeping her along in the maelstrom of my own emotions.
Her brown eyes are nearly black as they look down at me, her pupils dilated wide with need. Her lips are parted, her skin flushed a soft, sexy pink, and her hands are clutching desperately at my shoulders. It’s enough to tell me that she’s right here with me, that she wants me as badly as I need her.
I can feel my control slipping as she stares down at me, can feel myself start to give in to the urge to take her right now and to hell with the consequences. God knows, there’s a part of me that wants to rush wildly for the prize, to bury my face in her pussy and sink my tongue deep inside of her. I want to taste her, to lick her, to get her off again and again and again until all she remembers is me. Until all she knows is the pleasure I can give her.
But that’s not enough. Making her come isn’t enough. Taking her isn’t enough.
That voice inside of me keeps demanding that I claim her, keeps roaring that she’s mine. No matter how short a time it’s been since we met, no matter that she belonged to Garrett first, no matter what happens next, Savvy is mine. And right here, right now, I want to claim her, want to brand her as mine in the most primitive way possible.
More, I want to get as deep inside of her as she already is in me. So even though she’s right here, even though I could be tasting her right now, making her scream right now, I take a deep breath. Force myself to get a grip. To go slow and savor her the way she deserves to be savored.
Kissing my way up her leg, I caress her ankle, her calf, the sensitive spot at the back of her knee before finally moving back up. I lick my way along the insides of her thighs, pushing her shirt out of the way as I go higher and higher and higher until I finally reach her sex. I inhale then, savoring the sweet, musky smell of her before placing my mouth as close to Savvy’s clit as I can get without actually touching her.
She moans again, arches away from the wall a little as her hands tangle in my hair, pulling hard enough to sting. It’s a good hurt, though, one that ratchets up my need another notch or twenty and I put my hands on the insides of her thighs, spreading them wider so I can look at her. So I can see every part of her.
Transfixed by her beauty, I look between her face and her pussy. She’s so vulnerable like this, so open, and I need to know it’s okay. More, I need to know that she’s feeling what I’m feeling. Needing me the way I so desperately need her.
And though she’s blushing, Savvy doesn’t look away. Doesn’t push me away. Instead, she holds steady, eyes locked to mine, and waits for whatever I’m going to do next.
The level of trust she’s giving me—it nearly breaks me. I, who have fucked more women than I can ever hope to count and done nearly every position in the book, am completely undone just kneeling at this woman’s feet.
I’m so undone, in fact, that just looking at her—just watching her watch me—nearly has me coming, untouched, on the fucking carpet like some fifteen-year-old kid with his first girl.
And that’s not how I want this day to end.
Taking a few deep breaths, I get myself back under control before I lean forward and slowly, slowly, slowly, lick my way along her pussy to her clit.
Chapter 24
Savvy
Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod.
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t—
“Oh God!” I gasp out as Kian circles my clit with his tongue.
He lifts his head immediately, his green eyes electric as he stares up at me. “Okay?” he asks.
I nod, even though I’m not sure I am. But then, I’m not sure of anything right now except that I want his mouth on me again. I need his mouth on me again.
I don’t say that, but my desperation must be showing because he grins a little before lowering his mouth and licking his way along my sex again.
I gasp at the sensations washing over me, dig my foot into his shoulder as I arch my hips in an effort to get closer. To get more. More pleasure. More Kian. More everything.
And he gives it to me. God, does he ever, as he thrusts two fingers inside me at the same time he gently sucks my clit between his teeth.
It’s all I need and I come with a scream, my body spiraling completely out of my control as I break into a million pieces. I can’t talk, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel as pleasure careens through me, going on and on and on.
I buck against Kian’s mouth, against his hands, not sure I can handle all the sensations flooding me at once. But after a quick glance up at my eyes, he holds me still and works me through it, so that even as the pleasure ebbs it starts to build again.
“Kian!” I gasp, my hands tangling in his hair. “I don’t think I can—”
“You can,” he tells me, his voice lower and harsher than I’ve ever heard it. This time, I’m the one looking into his eyes, and I’m trapped by the heat I see there…and the tenderness. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
And then he’s ducking his head again, and his tongue—his wild, wicked, wonderful tongue—goes from long, luxurious licks to deep thrusts that have painful ecstasy slamming through me all over again. He delves deep, licking his way deep inside of me until I can feel my fear crumbling under the pleasure, falling in pieces around us. Until all I can think about, until all I know, is the heat and the pleasure and the joy that comes from being at His Royal Hotness’s mercy.
He closes his mouth around my clit, sucks deeply as he slides first one finger and then another inside of me. He’s stroking me, thrusting, taking, giving, driving me closer and closer to the edge of another orgasm as I arch and shudder against him. He finds my G-spot, runs his finger over it again and again. The pleasure is overwhelming now, swamping me, dragging me down, and I cry out even as I hold him more and more tightly.
He pulls back a little, starts flicking his tongue against my clit as he runs his thumb over my anus. I gasp, bucking against his hold as I look down at him, wide-eyed and wild.
He just arches a brow at me, his gaze hot and wicked as that thumb circles me again and again, setting fire to nerve endings I never knew existed before this very second. Pleasure crashes into me, slamming through me like the waves of the Mediterranean and I call out his name just as he slides his thumb inside of me.
I go into sensory overload then, another orgasm ripping through me—fast and hard and never-ending—and this time I can’t stop myself from crying out.
I can feel him grinning, his lips curving against my sex as he once again pulls my clit into his mouth and starts to suck. I’m nearly boneless with pleasure at this point, boneless and overwhelmed and exhausted. I collapse against the wall, wanting to rest for just a minute—or forever—to recover—but once again, Kian stops me, his free hand sliding around to my lower back and holding me forward.
“Stay like this,” he growls, and I do because right now I can’t deny him anything. Don’t want to deny him anything even though I’ve never felt so exposed. The intimacy of this moment—of staring down at him between my knees while he l
ooks up at me even as he continues to go down on me—is soul-stirring and overwhelming and terrifying and amazing all at the same time.
He’s sucking me, licking me, spearing his tongue deep inside me again and again and again, until all I can feel is pleasure.
Until all I can feel is him.
The more sensitive I become, the more he gives—and takes—until I’m bucking wildly against him, twisting and pushing in an effort to get away from the ecstasy that is burning through my every defense and turning me to ash. But he still doesn’t stop, still doesn’t let me go. Still makes me come. Again and again and again.
Finally—finally—when I’m on the brink of insanity and my entire world is reduced to Kian and this moment and the pleasure that coasts along my nerve endings, he pulls away. Then he’s fumbling in his back pocket and pulling out a condom before lifting me into his arms and carrying me to the couch.
“Come here,” he says, his voice low and guttural as he rolls the condom down his length and pulls me on top of him.
He’s almost completely gone, chest heaving, hands shaking, body trembling with the need tearing through him. And still he waits for me to take him instead of thrusting inside of me and taking what he wants. The knowledge breaches my last barrier and I feel myself falling as I give over to him yet another piece of my heart.
I have a pretty good idea where this is going to go—royalty doesn’t marry commoners is a lesson I learned years ago—but right now I don’t give a shit. Right now, all I care about, all that matters, is Kian and making him feel as good as he’s making me feel.
I straddle his hips, reaching between us to guide him inside of me. His hands are on my ass as he lowers me onto his cock. Despite the desperation I can feel rolling off him in waves, he takes it slow, keeps me from taking all of him in one downward plunge of my hips. Instead, he watches my face closely for any sign of pain or discomfort, those green eyes of his burning into mine as he lets me take him inch by excruciatingly slow inch.