Chapter 19

Garrett

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

My brain stops working the second Lola wraps those warm, shapely legs of hers around my waist and all I can think is fuck.

Fuck, I want her.

Fuck, I need her.

Fuck, I have to have her.

I don’t care if this is a bad idea, don’t give a fuck if our relationship is supposed to be for the gossip columns only. The plan doesn’t matter right now. Nothing does but getting inside her and feeling her come on my dick.

I’ve fucked a bunch of women since I lost the throne and none of them made me feel like this. No one has ever made me feel like Lola does—like the whole prince thing doesn’t matter. Like she wants me, Garrett, and not His Royal Hotness.

It’s a strange feeling but an exhilarating one. An intoxicating one.

She shifts a little, trying to get closer, and I slide my hands under her robe so I can cup her ass and support her. Now that I’ve got her exactly where I want her, the last thing I want to do is drop her. Or let her go.

I rip my mouth from hers to say, “Lola, sweetheart, I need—”

“Yes!” It’s almost a wail as she pulls my mouth back to hers.

“You didn’t give me a chance to ask—”

“It doesn’t matter. The answer’s yes.”

“Thank fuck.”

I start walking her across the room and she moans at the motion, tilting her head back so that her long, slender neck is exposed to my gaze. I take instant advantage, sliding my mouth across her jaw and down her throat to her collarbone, licking and nibbling every inch of soft, sweet skin in between. I pause at the hollow of her throat, sucking at the sensitive skin there until I’ve left a bruise that can’t be ignored. Until I leave a mark that can’t be ignored.

It’s not like me, this marking up a woman like she’s my personal plaything. But with Lola, I can’t help myself. I want something tangible on her skin, something I can look at that proves she’s mine. Something that tells every other man out there the same thing.

She calls out when I finally lift my mouth from her skin, then rocks her lower body against mine in a desperate invitation that has me hanging onto control by my fingertips.

She really is the sexiest fucking woman I’ve ever laid eyes—or hands—on. Is it any wonder she brings out every primitive instinct that I’ve got?

I tighten my grip on her ass as I speed my progress across the room and I don’t stop until I’ve got her backed up against the wall. Her legs and arms are still twined around me, but at least now I have the leverage to do what I want with her. Which is every fucking thing I can think of and some that haven’t even been invented yet.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, pressing kisses to her mouth, her throat, the tops of her breasts. “So fucking gorgeous that I can’t believe I even get to touch you.”

She moans, calls out my name. In response, I slide my hands under her rear, run them up and down her spine, and tell her over and over again how hot she is. How much I want her. How fucking sexy she is and how fucking hard she gets me.

By the time I’m done, her breath is coming in a series of hot little pants. Her hands are tugging at my hair, her legs wrapped tight around my waist, her sex nestled hot and wet against my cock. And all I can think is don’t lose it, don’t fucking lose it. Not now, not yet.

Not when I haven’t gotten her there yet.

But already I’m close, so fucking close. Already I want nothing more than to bury myself inside her and feel her clench around me when I come. I thought she’d be disgusted when she saw the scars on my body—God knows I am—but she didn’t say a word. Hell, she barely glanced at them.

I’ve kept them hidden from everyone but the doctors, too ashamed to let anyone see what was done to me. What I let them do to me. But with Lola—she doesn’t make me feel like less of a man for having been tortured. She doesn’t make me feel like less of anything. In fact, she’s just seen them and still she’s practically begging me to take her, to make her come.

No way am I going to disappoint her.

With that thought in mind, I rip her belt open.

Slide her robe over her shoulders onto the floor.

Slam her back against the wall.

Swallow her cries as her bare skin hits the cold wall and she arches against me.

“You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen,” I tell her, kissing my way along her collarbone and over to her shoulder. It’s ridiculous how hot I find this little patch of her—then again, I find everything about her sexy. Especially the little clusters of freckles that dance across her shoulders. And the little mole on the outer curve of her left breast. And the soft pink of her nipples.

“Everything about you makes me hot,” I whisper against her skin. She moans a little, rocks her hips against mine, and I see fucking stars at the feel of her pussy—warm and wet and welcoming—against the hardness of my dick. In self-defense, I grab her hip, pressing more firmly against her in a last-ditch attempt to hold her still as I continue to press wet, open-mouthed kisses across her shoulder and down her bicep.

“The way your skin turns pink when you’re turned on.” I lick across the upper curve of first one breast and then the other.

“The way your nipples always harden before I even touch them.” I take one in my mouth and suck hard enough to have her calling out my name.

“The broken, breathy sounds you make when you want me inside you.” I bite down gently, then lave my tongue around her areola as she lets loose with the sounds I just described.

“The way your hands rake down my back when I touch your pussy.” I slip a hand between us and circle her clit with my thumb.

She cries out then, a loud, desperate sound that has my dick leaking pre-cum and every nerve ending in my body standing on end.

I do it again, reveling in the way her hands clutch at my shoulders.

At the way her head rocks back and forth against the wall.

At the way her legs tighten around my hips and her fingernails dig into my skin as she begs, “Please, please, please.”

“Just looking at you makes me harder than I’ve ever been. And being inside you—” I thrust against the very heart of her at the same time I pinch her clit between my thumb and forefinger. “Being inside you makes me—”

I break off as she comes, her arms and legs and hands tightening around me as she brokenly calls my name.

Thank God.

“Fuck, Lola.” I keep my thumb on her clit, working her through it even as I slip two fingers inside of her because there is nothing, nothing, that I love more than the way she clenches around me. The way her body holds onto a part of me like she never, never wants to let it go.

I hold her there, pressed against the wall, until the tremors stop.

Until her breathing returns to normal and she sleepily opens her eyes.

Until she smiles at me and reaches a still shaking hand up to cup my cheek.

“You okay?” I ask her, pressing a kiss to the soft, tender spot where her shoulder meets her neck.

“More than okay.” She rocks her hips against me. Once, twice. Then again and again, until it’s all I can do to keep from coming like a fucking fourteen-year-old before I ever get inside her. “But you didn’t—”

I slam my mouth down on hers, cutting her off with a kiss. Because if I hear her say the word come right now, there’s no way I’m going to keep it together. No way I’m not going to wrap her legs around my waist and shove myself inside her. No way I’m not going to fuck her and fuck her and fuck her, until neither one of us can breathe, let alone stand and talk and function.

She kisses me back, bites at my lip, then thrusts her tongue deep in my mouth to tangle with mine.

And then her hands are fumbling between us, guiding me to her.

“Lola—” It’s all I can say, all I can think, as her hand closes around my rock-hard dick. “Lola, Lola, Lola—”

“Fuck me, Garrett. Please.” Her voice is breathless, her eyes pleading as she starts to jack me off, her thumb rubbing back and forth over my tip. I’m so turned on that I’m leaking pre-cum and I know if I leave her to it—if I let her keep doing this for much longer—I’m going to blow like a fucking teenager with his first girl.

The thought takes me higher and I can feel the heat starting in my back, can feel it gathering right at the base of my spine and working its way through my dick. Through my drawn-up balls.

I try one more time to pull away, to set her down. “Condom!” I gasp out with my last bit of willpower. I need to protect her.

“I’m on the pill and I’m clean.” She wraps one hand around my hip and cups my ass in her palm. Her other hand is on my dick, lining me up at her entrance so that all I have to do is take a deep breath and I’ll be inside her.

I hold my breath, try to stay completely still. But it’s so hard, so fucking hard, when she’s spread right in front of me for the taking. I’ve never trusted a woman with birth control before, not when I’ve been schooled since puberty not to take the chance of bringing an illegitimate heir into the picture. But this is Lola and I do trust her, probably more than I should. Definitely more than I want to.

“I’m clean too,” I tell her.

“Then what are you waiting for?” she demands, those beautiful sky-blue eyes of hers fuzzy and a little wet as they stare imploringly into mine. “Garrett, please. I need you, IneedyouIneedyouIneedyouIneedyouIneed—”

It’s the last straw. My control deserts me and with one forward thrust of my hips, I’m buried deep inside of her.

Her wet heat clamps around me and she feels so good—so good—that I nearly come with the first stroke.

With the first lift of her hips against mine.

With the first moan that falls from her lips.

But this is Lola and I need to make it good for her. Need to make her come one more time before I finally let go of everything slamming around inside of me.

“Lola, sweetheart.” I kiss my way up her neck, pausing occasionally to lick at the rivulets of sweat that are running down her skin. Her sweat. My sweat. At this point I can’t tell whose it is and I don’t give a shit anyway. Don’t give a shit about anything but feeling her come around me.

“You feel so good,” I tell her as I kiss the sensitive spot behind her ear. “I need you so much. I need—”

“Then fuck me!” she demands, using her free hand to grab my other hip and yank me against her, inside her, hard. She cries out and so do I. Then I’m pumping inside of her in a hard, steady rhythm that has both of us gasping for air as sweat continues to pour down our bodies.

I’m so close that the need to come is a fire in my blood, a haze in my brain, a drive deep within me that I couldn’t hold back even if I wanted to. Being inside Lola feels so good that I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but feel as she tightens her beautiful legs around me and takes me again and again and again.

Dipping my head, I draw her nipple into my mouth. I suck hard at the same moment I slide my thumb around her clit and start to stroke her.

She cries out then, and it’s my name on her lips. My name beating through her blood as she rocks her head against the wall and lets me take her higher. Lets me take her all the way to ecstasy.

She’s coming now, her body clenching rhythmically on my own, and it feels so good that I lose my last tenuous hold on control and fly right over the edge with her. Lola feels it—feels me—and she arches her hips, bites down on my shoulder.

The sharp little stab of pain takes me even higher, has me gasping for her as my orgasm goes on and on and on.

I hold her tight as I empty myself inside of her, pressing my fingers into her hips and my lips against the side of her breast. But she holds me too, her arms wrapped around my shoulders, her fingers tangled in my hair.

“Garrett.” She whispers my name against my skin as she strokes over the scars on my back, delicately tracing them with her fingertips.

My defenses break wide open.

In those moments, when I’m deep inside of her—when she’s wrapped around me so tightly that I can’t tell where I leave off and she begins—I feel the first piece of the wall I built around myself when I was kidnapped start to tumble down.

I feel myself start to fall for her, really fall for her. And as she calls out my name, coming on my cock for what feels like forever—for what feels like a stolen moment out of time that belongs to just the two of us—I can’t do anything to stop it.

More than that, I’m not sure I would do something, even if I could.