The Dare Collection September 2018. Stefanie London
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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