The Dare Collection September 2018. Stefanie London
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door’s impressive-looking dead bolt into place, then spins to face me. “I know this is all a lot to take in. I’m still reeling, myself.” She steps closer. “But we’re stuck here,” she says, unzipping her dress. “Captive in this tiny room.” She lets it fall to the floor, and all that’s left is her exquisite skin, her womanly curves and a—constellation?
“Those birthmarks,” I say, my voice rough as my finger traces the shape they make. An arrow.
“Yes?” she says, her voice hitching. “Damien, are you remembering something?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the dark corners of my memory to come into the light. But as quickly as it came, the sense of recognition fades.
“No,” I say, and I watch her expression fall. “I’m sorry.”
She moves closer, stepping out of each of her shoes as she does. “About our deal in the forest by the stables,” she says. “Where we apparently gave Rosegate quite the tabloid fodder.”
“What about it?” I ask.
“I made some promises to you, that I’d prove my worth to your family—and your worth to yourself. But I did not ask you for anything in return.”
“Except to defend our child with my life. I’d say that’s a pretty tall order.”
Heat floods to her cheeks. “I mean I have not asked anything of you—for me.”
I cock a brow. “And now you’re asking.”
She nods with a shyness that makes my chest ache. “I have been a captive since the day I was born. And if what you and X think is true, it is not because the king and queen were protecting me. It is because they were controlling me. I don’t want to be their puppet anymore. I don’t want to be afraid.” She pauses.
My hands twitch at my sides, and I know that I will explode if I do not touch her soon. But I feel like we are on the cusp of something here, and I need to hear her out.
“What do you want, Juliet?”
She skims her teeth over her bottom lip, a sexy, coy tease.
“I want you to make me your captive. And then set me free.”
She unbuckles my belt and slides it free from my jeans. Then she hands it to me.
“Are you sure?” I ask her.
She nods, then heads toward one of the small beds. She reaches over her head, gripping the metal frame of the utilitarian headboard.
Neither of us says a word as I wrap the leather around her wrists, again and again until it’s tight enough to leave a mark. For a second I wonder if it hurts her, but one look at the grin on her face tells me otherwise.
I slide two fingers between her legs, and she writhes against my touch. Christ, she’s drenched. This is all it takes. My cock strains against my jeans.
“Cover my eyes,” she says with a whimper.
I pull my shirt over my head, rolling it up before I rest it over her eyes.
“Are you scared?” I ask.
She nods. “But I trust you, Damien. I trust you like I never should have trusted my own flesh and blood. But we are blood now. The blood of rebirth. Of new beginnings. Show me that I don’t have to be scared. Show me that I’m not a prisoner anymore.”
I lower my face between her thighs and give her one long slow lick from bottom to top, my tongue flicking her swollen clit.
Her arms jerk, her bound hands straining against the belt.
I plunge a finger inside her again. Then two. And then three.
She bucks against my palm, but I can still feel her restraint.
“You’re no one’s captive, Juliet. Least of all mine. And no one can fucking silence you anymore. So stop silencing yourself.”
I pump my fingers inside her while I lap at her sensitive folds, her throbbing center.
She thrashes with wild abandon, and I can tell she is close.
“Let me hear you, Juliet.”
Then I bury my face in her tangy sweetness as she lets out a fierce, guttural roar.
It is not the sound of a kept princess but that of a mighty queen.
Juliet
I am dying in the darkness, dying of undiluted, absolute pleasure. Western medical science would scoff at such a claim, but it’s the truth. My truth, anyway. My body cannot contain this much bliss. But Damien isn’t content with making me climax once. He won’t stop. And all the while he mutters the most wicked delicious things.
“I love licking you all over.”
“That’s right, baby, writhe against my face. Use me as your fuck toy.”
“I own this sweet pussy.”
It’s as if his depraved language is a key, opening something dark and wild within me.
I would slap the face of any other man who dared address me with such words. But here, tied to a bed, who knows how far under the earth, I can’t get enough.
By my fourth orgasm, soundproof walls be damned, I’m sure every operative in The Hole is ready to high-five my sweet prince.
My hands fall to my sides, and I realize that I’m free. Somehow after the frenzy of my last climax, Damien unbound me without me noticing.
Grabbing me by the waist, he rolls onto his back.
“Sit on my face, Princess.”
My shoulders flag. “I... I can’t come again.”
His green eyes gleam. “You’ve only just begun. In this room, in this second, I call the shots. You’re mine to command.”
Later I’ll spend time trying to decide why words that sound so very wrong feel so very right. But for now, my body obeys his order. I slide up over his chest, until I’m hovering above his scarred yet beautiful face. I pause to admire his chiseled jaw, the arrogantly perfect bone structure, the slash of bold brows.
“Ride me hard,” is all he says, before grabbing my ass and slamming me down on his hungry mouth.
My hips undulate, rocking my clit over his tongue, but this time I won’t take my pleasure alone. Reaching behind, I arch my back and grab his stiff cock in my hand. The tip is slick with precum and that helps my palm glide all the way to the root. He feels amazing and I increase the speed and pressure until he’s growling into my pussy.
Fair’s fair. If he’s my undoing, I am his. Together we might be a disaster, but we can build something beautiful with our bodies.
He jerks and I am so ready to feel his hot release, but that’s not what happens. Instead, he lifts me off him and swoops me down, gliding me over the length of his cock, thrusting against me even as he doesn’t penetrate. If I’d come hard before, it was nothing on these sensations. My pussy walls clench as he pumps his cock against me, driving his ass hard so that I’m bouncing. My breasts bob with the force of his sheer masculine virility.
“Fuck,” he grinds out. “Jesus. Fuck. Shit.”
I gasp, breath hitched, my throat so raw I couldn’t make another noise, even if I wanted. Why am I not stopping, coming off this peak? Surely the ecstasy must ebb, but it’s only growing.
Then he moves his fingers into the crease of my ass; I’m so wet that it’s even reached there.
He presses against my hole and I can’t believe what’s happening. I can’t believe that I am actually bucking into his touch, urging him on. When his finger is fully embedded into my backside, he takes his free hand and shoves it between my parted lips.
“Suck it,” he moans, and I do, reveling in the taste of