Damien
SHE CRADLES MY face in her palms. Her eyes search mine, and I know what she wants to see. Recognition. But other than a moment of déjà vu, this woman is a stranger to me. A beautiful, headstrong, drive-me-crazy stranger.
She reaches up, rubs a thumb along the scar above my brow.
“Does it still hurt?” All of the earlier haughtiness disappears from her voice.
I shake my head.
She strokes a finger gingerly along my nose, and I close my eyes.
“Why does this injury seem fresher than the others?”
“It didn’t heal correctly,” I tell her, then blink my eyes open to meet her gaze. “After weeks of recuperation, I was rewarded with having the doctors break it again. Though I’m not quite sure I approve of their handiwork.” I grab her wrist and lower her hand, but for some reason I don’t let go. “Still crooked, but it’s the best they could do with how badly it was injured.” I paint on my devil’s grin. “Now I have a whole face full of reminders of all that I’ve done to put my family in danger.”
“You’re beautiful,” she blurts.
Her words are too unexpected for me shutter my reaction. My eyes go wide.
“I don’t see your scars, Damien. I don’t see your past. All I see is a man who has punished himself for far too long. A man who suffered great loss in his life before I even met him—and who suffers even more so because of me.”
A tear streaks her cheek, and I instinctively wipe it away. Whatever happened or did not happen between us, she suffers now because of me. And I can’t help think that in her eyes, I have failed her.
Just like I failed Victoria.
My father and brothers.
“Are you still angry at me?” I ask, releasing her hand.
She lets it fall against my chest. “Furious,” she says, but there is no fury in her voice. “Are you not angry with me for barging into your life and messing it up even more?”
My hands rest on her hips, my fingertips kneading her soft skin beneath her riding clothes. “The angriest,” I lie. Because the truth is, while I am definitely in one royal fucking mess I don’t know how to clean up, right now I care nothing for the fate of Edenvale or Nightgardin. I care only that this woman has not run from me screaming. This woman I do not know who claims she carries my child.
“Juliet,” I say, my mouth going dry.
“Damien,” she responds.
“I—” I don’t know what the hell to say, so I brush my lips against hers, testing the waters, and she whimpers, and that is answer enough.
I scoop her into my arms, and she yelps with laughter.
“What are you doing? Do you not have broken ribs that are still healing?” she scolds.
“I don’t care,” I growl, leaving the horses to drink while I take her to a place I have not been since I was a young teen. We weave through a copse of trees until we emerge at a circular clearing small enough that most would pass it by, but I know better.
Before fast cars, there were horses. As much as I loved my brothers, it was when I grew older that I realized I’d always live in their shadows—that there was no true place for me in the palace. So I’d ride far and fast until I found a place I could get lost.
I set Juliet on her feet, and she spins to take in the lush green canopy of the tree branches, the purple wildflowers that grow at the bases of the trunks, and a small space where a fourteen-year-old boy could hide away from the life of a prince—and where a twenty-five-year-old man can get to know the stranger who is his wife.
“Damien,” she whispers. “How did you know this place was here?”
She spins to face me, a wondrous smile spread across her face.
“Let’s just say I was a broody teen,” I chuckle.
She brushes my hair from my forehead. “So not much has changed, then?”
I narrow my eyes, then hook a finger in the belt loop of her body-hugging jeans. “Are you teasing me, wife?”
She skims her teeth over her bottom lip, and I wonder for a second if I’ve seen her do this before. I wonder how many firsts she experienced with me that I don’t even remember. And it’s this that makes me step away.
“We should go,” I say.
Juliet squares her shoulders. “Why, Damien? Why now are you running? I am your wife. Do you still think I have ulterior motives? That I am here to be the ruin of Edenvale?”
“I don’t know!” I snap, but she doesn’t shrink away. She is every bit the regal princess. “I don’t know you. But if you are telling the truth, then I have already failed you in so many ways. And if you are lying, then I have failed my entire kingdom. So tell me, Princess. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
She presses a palm above my heart. “What does this tell you?”
“Christ, Juliet. It’s not that simple.”
She doesn’t falter. “I have never in my entire life believed that love was real. Only duty. My own parents would sooner hang me than show me an ounce of affection, and the one man I thought could change my mind does not remember me or trust me. Yet I’m still willing to hope. So tell me again, Damien. What does your heart tell you?”
I pull her to me, then lower her to the ground, spreading her out on her back. Her hair spreads above her like a wild crown, this princess and almost queen.
“It tells me to forget about trust and just take what I fucking want.”
“Do you want me?” she asks, chest heaving.
“Yes,” I grind out.
“Then take.”
Juliet
He hesitates, and for a moment I think he is going to climb off and stalk away with one of his famous scowls. But then his shoulders slacken, tension releasing as he loses whatever silent battle he wages with himself. Uttering a muffled curse, he slants his full lips over my mouth. I moan as his hot tongue slides over mine in a punishing caress. He tastes like coffee and cinnamon and a flavor that is so deliciously and indescribably Damien that my heart contracts, squeezing until I’m writhing in equal parts agony and pleasure.
He presses his hips down, pinning me in place with the raw power of his erection. I’ve been starved of feeling, frozen like a block of ice. He burns away my defenses. I can’t resist his heat.
My hands fly to his buckle as if they have a life of their own. Despite our three days of passion two months ago, I’m not an expert in the art of initiation. Instead, I fumble with the clasp, my growing determination overcoming my artlessness.
Dear God, I need to feel, to have a cathartic release.
“Juliet. No.”
“What more damage can be done?” I protest. “I’m already with child.”
“I don’t have sex, not the way you want.”
I roll my eyes, molars locked in frustration. “Hate to repeat the bad news, but you already did with me. Countless times. Multiple positions.”
“I’m not denying your words.” He frowns, sweat sheening his temples. “But if I can’t remember being inside you, then it might as well have never happened.”
“You have taken so much from me,” I yell in his face, raking my nails into his neck. “Must you take even my few memories of happiness?”
One of the horses stomps in the distance, snorting a restless breath.
He blinks as if in surprise. “Juliet. I didn’t mean to—”
“Forget it, Damien. Forget it...and...go fuck yourself.” I choke out the profanity.
Something gleams deep in his eyes. “You’re a hellcat under that prim exterior.”
“Oh I’ve got claws.” I dig deeper, and he hisses, nostrils flaring. “And if you’re this committed to being miserable, then you aren’t a Backdoor Baron at all...you’re a Brooding Baby.”
His eyes widen. “No one speaks to me this way.”
“I just did.”
He does something then that I never would have expected. He bursts out laughing.
This only frustrates me more. “What is so funny?”
He shrugs, a gesture so un-him. “It feels awesome to have someone bust my balls,” he says. “Normally I intimidate people or piss them off.”
I shoot daggers with my glare. “Well, I’m going to bust your balls with my left knee if you don’t allow me to pick up what remains of my dignity and return to the stables.”
“Wait one minute.” He eyes me, thoughtful. “I’ll let you go if that’s what you truly wish. But if you do truly need...a physical release... I can help you.”
My heart rate speeds up. “You’d make love to me?”
A shadow crosses his gaze. “I cannot. But I can give you pleasure. Relieve some dynamic tension.”
I purse my lips. “Oh? I’m listening.”
He ducks his head, inches from my face, and presses his cock right where I need it most.
I whimper. “That’s not bad.”
“Is that a challenge, Princess?” A wicked grin spreads across his face.
“Most assuredly.” Damn the eyes of this infuriating man. I half hate him and half want him more than my next breath.
He frees his cock from his jeans and it’s every inch as magnificent as I remembered. Long. Thick. Cut.
My mouth waters.
“Just as I suspected. Inside every good girl there is a bad girl waiting to come out,” he drawls.
“Then free me, Prince.” I roll my hips up, eager for attention. “Let’s see you do your worst.”
He has my pants around my ankles before I can think a coherent thought.
“These are cute.” He takes in my Nightgardin-issued white cotton panties with a wolfish expression.
“Please,” I plead. “I need... I need...”
“This?” He fists his cock, giving himself a slow stroke.
“You said I couldn’t have that.”
“Not inside,” he mutters, working his fist from root to tip. “Outside? That’s a whole other matter.”
“Outside?”
He yanks my innocent panties to the side. “Look at your sweetness,” he rasps. “Is all that honey just for me?”
Then he slides the head of his shaft over my slit. The pressure is extraordinary. He uses his length to massage my sensitive damp skin, finally centering on my bud, rubbing me in relentless circles.
I moan.
“You are a noisy one, wife of mine,” he observes, eyes bright with something like approval.
“So I’ve been told.” My toes curl. By you, I mentally add, before grabbing his head and hanging on as if I am drowning.
He doesn’t stop or slow, and soon both of our breaths are coming fast.
He pushes his tongue into my mouth while opening my shirt, popping open the clasp to my bra.
“Jesus.” He pulls back, shaking his head twice as he drinks me in. “How the hell could I forget these perfect tits?” He dips to lave one of my nipples until it pebbles and stretches taut. He is sucking me straight to heaven. Despite the sun, I swear that I see stars. The aching clench of need between my legs migrates to my chest until my entire body is primed. Even though a part of me knows that I am damned, I can’t retreat from this madness. For better or worse, this man has stolen a piece of my soul. More than any spoken vow. As if we were formed of one flesh and cleaved apart in some primal severing.
Soon I feel it. The release. It hovers before me, tantalizingly close.
He taps my clit with a clever finger, pulling back the hood and stroking the delicate bundle of nerves with all the pressure of a butterfly’s wing.
I lean up and suck his neck, licking his flesh and reveling in the tangy taste. He grunts and flutters against me again and it’s enough. It’s more than enough.
“Damien,” I moan again, unabashedly as I come as fast as an arrow shot from a quiver. “Oh God, Damien.”
But even as I’m lost in this need, a new hunger builds inside me, wicked and insatiable. He has feasted on me countless times. It’s my turn for a taste.
“What are you doing?” he asks as I slide down between his powerful thighs, nuzzling his steel-like erection, breathing in his hot musk.
I look up and smile at his darkly dangerous gaze. “I am going to devour you.”
Then parting my lips, I do just that. My cheeks tighten, sucking him in deeper, tasting the salty skin, the burst of precum.
He pushes his hands deep into my hair, wrapping the thick strands around his fingers. I slide my tongue along his thick veins, working him gently down my throat.
I’m in many ways an innocent, and yet I know on a primal level how to do this, how to please this enigmatic man. I grip his hips and lock my gaze on this.
He seems enraged. And yet I sense it’s simply a look of ultimate concentration. He’s even harder now, but I’m not stopping until every inch is mine.
“You’re killing me, Princess.” He thrusts between my greedy lips, fucking my hungry mouth. “How am I ever going to survive you?”
I squirm as my pussy reacts to the base need in his voice and double down on the movements. I’m artless but determined. I want to bring this powerful man to his knees with pleasure.
His balls are heavy beneath my chin and I reach out and stroke the underside.
That’s enough. He goes rigid a moment before his movements grow more ragged as he spills his climax down my throat and I keep going until he’s milked dry.
He closes his eyes. “When we were together before? Was it that good?”
“Better, my prince.” I whisper into his ear, biting the lobe. “Even better.”