Making her come could easily be my new obsession.
I’ve had a lot of women in my life, have used my name and charm and looks to get whomever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Have used sex to keep my demons, and my failures, at bay.
But sex with Savvy is different. Because Savvy is different, a primitive voice in the back of my head warns even as it urges me on. Thrusting my tongue inside of her, I send her over the edge to one final climax before skimming my mouth across the curve of her hip to the flat plane of her stomach.
Unable to resist, I suck on the soft flesh of her waist until I mark her, relishing the high-pitched cry she doesn’t even try to hold back. I soothe the small hurt with my tongue and lips before pulling back.
“What—” she asks, dazed. Confused. She’s trembling, but I know it’s from an overload of pleasure instead of cold. Her skin is flushed and nearly feverish.
As am I. My balls are on fire, my cock burning with the need to bury itself in the wet, silky heat of her. Lowering her back to the ground, I turn her so that she’s facing the wall.
“Kian, please! I need—”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Determined to get inside her—to stay inside her—I press on her upper back so that she’s leaning forward, her ass thrusting back for me. Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out a condom.
I unbutton my pants, ease out my aching dick, and roll it on. And then, intertwining my fingers with hers, I thrust into Savvy from behind.
She cries out, arches wildly, tugging as if to free her hands from my grip. But I hold on, covering her body with my own. I couldn’t let her go now if she begged. The moment I’d slid into her, everything else had stopped.
The voice in my head that always screams that I’m not good enough.
The terror I feel for my brother every waking hour.
The fear that I will never be half the man he is, never be good enough to take his place on the throne.
It all goes away, drowned out by the beauty and the power of this moment.
I’m rough with her, rougher than I’d intended on being, but I lose control. Any gentleness I’d had in me was used up in the long, sexy moments of going down on her. But even as the pleasure swamps me, I make sure that every cry I pull from her is a good one, make sure that every slam of my body into hers takes her one step higher.
I wrap an arm around her to make sure she’s protected from the rough finishing of the wall, and then I ride her hard and fast. Each thrust is a frenzy of raging desire, each stroke a declaration of control and ownership and vicious, violent need.
And Savvy takes it. No, she doesn’t just take it. She begs for more, her muscles clenching down tightly around me.
I reach down, push her legs farther apart. I need to go deeper, need to drive my cock so hard and deep inside of her that I’ll never forget the feel of her. Never forget the power and the peace pouring through me.
Sobbing, Savvy digs her fingernails into my hands, hanging on for dear life as my thrusts pound into her. “Do it!” she gasps, her body shaking uncontrollably as her sex clenches tightly around my dick. “Please. You have to.”
The music gets louder. My body screams for relief. But I refuse to give in—not now, not when she’s so close to coming again. I’m desperate to feel her orgasm, to feel her body as it spasms wildly around my own.
Easing back a little, I bring my hand down, gently stroke her clit. “No, baby, you have to,” I whisper, following the words with a desperate lunge inside of her. “Come on, Savvy, sweetheart. Let it take you. Let it—”
She screams, her back arching beneath me like a bow as the waves explode through her. Gritting my teeth, I keep up the hard, steady strokes until sweat streams down my body. Until my muscles cry out for relief. Until yet another orgasm whips through Savvy and she cries out my name again and again and again.
Only then do I give myself up to a release so violent, so strong, so overwhelming, it’s like power itself.
Chapter 22
Savvy
“Are you busy today?” Kian asks as we sit around my kitchen table stuffing pancakes into our mouths. I feel a little guilty about not inviting Avery and Niall to join us, but Kian’s in a towel and I’m in not much more. I could change, I suppose, but I’m enjoying the way Kian’s eyes keep skimming over me while we talk, the way he drifts off mid-sentence sometimes because he gets distracted by one part of my body or another.
It surprises me how much I like it, in fact. I’ve always wanted a man to be interested in me because of my brain, because of what I think or what I have to say. Kian gives me that and I love it. But there’s something to be said for being with a man who loves my body as much as Kian does. Who is turned on just by watching me eat or talk or breathe.
God knows, I feel the same way about him. Everything about this man was designed for sex. From his smoking hot body and inexhaustible curiosity to his very talented mouth and utter unselfishness in bed. What he did to me last night—
“Are you even listening to a word I’m saying?” he suddenly demands. And then his face is right in front of mine, his green eyes blazing with laughter and enough heat that I can feel my panties growing damp while I sit here.
“I’m listening, I swear.”
“Bullshit. You were looking at my abs.”
“Actually, I was looking at your V-cut and thinking about how much I really want to lick it. But your abs are nice, too.”
His eyes go that crazy shade of neon that gets me every time. “I can probably free up some room in my schedule if you want to make that fantasy a reality. I mean, if it means that much to you, far be it from me to deny you.”
“Wow. Look at you.” I reach out and pat his cheek. “Always putting somebody else before yourself.”
“What can I say? I’m a giver like that.”
“Now that, I won’t deny,” I say, my voice dropping a little as I think of just how many orgasms Kian gave me last night.
“You keep looking at me like that,” he says, his voice dropping right along with mine, “and I’m going to forget all about being self-sacrificing and take you right here on your kitchen table.”
“Promise?”
“Oh, I promise.” He stands, and in one fluid motion grabs my hand, pulls me up and then twirls me around so that my back is pressed against his front. “And I always keep my promises.”
One of his hands sneaks up to cup my breast while the other delves between my thighs. I gasp at the first touch of his thumb against my clit, then moan a little as he grinds the heel of his hand against my mons.
“This isn’t what you promised,” I say, barely able to speak through the pleasure.
“Is that a complaint?” He squeezes my nipple between his thumb and forefinger for emphasis.
“No complaint,” I tell him. “Just—” I break off as he slips two fingers inside me.
“Just what?” he asks, his breath hot against my ear.
“Just trying to keep you honest.”
This time when he laughs, he sounds anything but happy. “If you’re looking for honest, I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong brother.”
“I don’t,” I tell him, as I move to capture his mouth in a kiss that makes us both sweat. “Besides, even if I did, I’ve got the only brother I want.”
—
“What flavor would you like?” Kian asks me hours later, as we wait our turn at an ice cream shop on the beach.
We’re in disguise—or I should say, Kian’s in disguise as no one knows who I am. He’s wearing board shorts and a surfing T-shirt in shades of hot pink and aqua, a pair of the goofiest sunglasses I’ve ever seen and a big, floppy brimmed white hat the likes of which you normally only see on old women trying to avoid the sun. He looks ridiculous, but the pièces de résistance are the stripes of pink and yellow zinc sunscreen he’s drawn across his cheeks and down his nose.
He doesn’t blend in by any stretch of the imagination, but he looks so outrageous and nerdy that people are to
o busy looking at all the separate pieces to pay attention to who is under them.
“That’s the key,” he’d told me when Lucas showed up at my house this morning with all of this in a bag. “To hide in plain sight. No one would ever imagine Prince Kian wearing something like this in public, so as long as I keep my head down and don’t make eye contact with anyone, I’m golden.”
“No one would imagine His Royal Hotness wearing that anywhere,” I’d answered. “And why do you need a disguise, anyway?”
“Because I want to take you out. And the last thing I want is for us to be hassled while I do it.”
I’d be lying if I said that hadn’t given me a moment’s pause. It was so like something Garrett would say that for a moment I felt like I was back there with him, a dirty little secret that no one was supposed to know about. But Kian isn’t Garrett, something I keep reminding myself of when doubts creep in.
Besides, it’s been a good day. We rode bikes along one of the big nature trails in Avignon, then had a picnic on the beach that ended up with us spending a ridiculous amount of time playing tag with the waves and each other.
At one point Kian bought a dragon kite off a kid—and while I don’t even want to know what the kid told his parents when he showed up at home sans kite and with the Wildemar equivalent of a hundred dollar bill—it was a crazy amount of fun to fly the thing.
It was even more fun to watch Lucas (dressed in street clothes meant to help him blend in) climbing a tree to get it down after I got it stuck up there. Kian had planned on getting it, but Lucas, Malik and Avi (new bodyguards that I met for the first time today) were having no part of that. I guess the idea of His Royal Hotness falling out of a tree and breaking his neck was too much for their security oriented souls to handle.
And now, apparently, it’s ice cream time, only Kian’s doing it all wrong—something I’m going to have to correct.
“Don’t you know that’s not how you order ice cream on a date?”
His eyebrows disappear under the gigantic hat. “There’s a right and a wrong way to order ice cream?”
“There’s a right and a wrong way to do everything, dude. But yes, there is definitely a right way to order ice cream when you’re trying to impress a woman.”
“And that is?”
We’ve finally reached the front of the line, so instead of explaining, I ask, “Can I show you how it’s done?”
“By all means.” He waves his hand in obvious invitation.
I check out the board and the myriad flavor options and combinations offered there. Then I turn back to study Kian. Finally, I say, “I think he would like a double scoop of turtle cheesecake and chocolate cherry chip in a chocolate dipped waffle cone.” I glance back at Kian, who is staring at me a little wide eyed at this point. “And he wants that topped with hot fudge, whipped cream and two cherries.”
“Two cherries?” the girl behind the counter repeats.
“Actually, make it half a dozen. He likes to have lots of choices..”
Beside me Kian chokes a little on thin air, but he doesn’t say another word until she hands him his cone and spoon.
“Thanks so much,” he says, shooting the girl the grin that’s dropped at least a million panties. “My girlfriend would like a triple scoop—”
I laugh. “A triple?”
“What can I say? You’re a greedy one.”
I start to tell him that I am very definitely not greedy, but the wicked look in his eyes reminds me of this morning in my kitchen—and just how many times I begged him to make me come.
Okay, so maybe I am a little greedy…
“What would you like on the triple?” the girl asks me.
“She doesn’t get a vote,” Kian says as takes a scoop of ice cream and slowly, deliberately licks it off his spoon.
He’s just fucking with me now, messing around and probably trying to embarrass me. And the truth is, if any other guy did that, it would probably gross me out. But somehow Kian manages to look crazy hot doing it—even with the hat, the colored zinc and the ridiculous sunglasses.
At first I think it must just be me—considering how many times he’s used that tongue on me in the last thirty-six hours—but a quick glance at the ice cream dipper tells me Kian’s sex appeal transcends his ridiculous disguise. The girl can’t be much over eighteen, but she looks like she’s ready to drop her panties for him too, right here in the middle of the ice cream shop.
“You’re ridiculous,” I hiss at him, crossing my arms over my chest to hide the sudden perkiness of my nipples.
He just grins, then turns back to the girl and says, “I’ve finally decided. My girl wants a scoop of butter pecan, a scoop of mocha fudge and a scoop of white chocolate raspberry in a Butterfinger-dipped waffle cone, covered in whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. And absolutely no cherries.”
“That’s mean,” I tell him with a little pout.
But he just grins. “How am I supposed to get you to lick my cone if I don’t have something over here to tempt you with?”
“You’re disgusting,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Besides, it’s going to take more than cherries to get me to lick your cone.”
“We’ll see.”
It takes five minutes for her to build the monstrosity Kian ordered for me, but when it’s finally done, we sit down at one of the corner tables to eat.
“So,” he asks after a second, “is there a method to this madness? Or is the goal just to make the craziest concoction you can think of?”
“I think that depends on the person.” I take a bite of mocha fudge. “Is that what you did for me?”
“Does it feel like that’s what I did?”
“Dude, I’m not one of your subjects. I don’t have to bow and scrape—which means you don’t get to ask all the questions here.”
That startles a laugh out of him. “Okay, I’ll go first. I picked the butter pecan because I saw some in your freezer and I wanted you to have at least one thing you liked in case I totally blew it with the rest of the cone.”
The sweetness of that makes me a little gooey inside, but he’s just getting started.
“I picked mocha fudge because it’s pretty common flavors—coffee, chocolate, cream—but when you put them together they become this complex, layered deliciousness that packs a huge punch—which is totally what you do.”
“Is that your way of calling me common?” I ask, trying to keep things light when he just gave me what might be the best compliment I’ve ever received.
But Kian’s having none of it. Leaning forward, he strokes the back of his hand down my cheek in a gesture so tender I feel it in my bones. “It’s my way of calling you extraordinary.”
And that, right there, is how I slip into love with His Royal Hotness in the middle of a crowded Wildemarian ice cream shop.
Holy. Fucking. Shit. I am soooooo screwed.
My heart is pounding out of my chest, my blood racing through my veins so fast I can barely keep from squirming. Still, I try to play it cool. Try to pretend like Kian hasn’t just destroyed me with a sentence. “And the white chocolate raspberry?” I ask after I clear my throat a couple times and finally pull myself back together.
His wicked grin is back in spades. “That one’s just because it’s my favorite. And I wanted to know how much better it would be if I tasted it while kissing you.”
For long seconds I forget how to breathe. And then I’m shoving my chair back from the table, dumping my ice cream in the nearest trash can and all but yanking him from the building.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks as I drag him down the sidewalk.
I don’t answer him.
“Savvy? What’s wrong?” he asks again. Then, “Did I say something wrong?”
I turn on him then. “Wrong? Did you say something wrong? No, you didn’t say anything wrong.”
“Then what…”
“You said everything right.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“It is if we’re in the middle of a crowded ice cream shop!”
“And why is that exactly?” He looks and sounds completely confused.
“Because if I don’t get you inside me in the next five minutes, I’m going to lose my mind.”
“Oh.” His eyes go wide in surprise before taking on the wicked gleam I’ve come to love. “Well, in that case, I’ll race you to the car.”
Chapter 23
Kian
“I want to go.”
“That’s out of the question,” my father says as he pours us both a scotch, neat.
“It’s not out of the question. You’re the king. I’m still a captain in the Royal Navy, albeit on leave. I’ve been on hundreds of missions and have contributed to all of them. I have every reason to go on this op.”
“Every reason except that it might very well go bad. And then Wildemar will have both of its princes in grave danger. That’s not going to happen. Not just because I say it won’t happen, but because your duty to Wildemar prevents it from happening.”
“Fuck Wildemar! He’s my brother!”
“And he’s my son.” My father spits out the words like they’re poison. “Do you think I wouldn’t be there if I could? Do you think I would be waiting here in this palace like a prisoner if there was any way around it? He’s my son, as are you. And there is no way I’m letting you put yourself in this kind of danger. Not when I may still lose one son.”
“You? Or Wildemar?”
“Does it actually matter? For all intents and purposes, we’re one and the same.” He holds his glass up in a mock salute, then downs the scotch in a couple of easy swallows.
“In your mind, maybe.”
“In everyone’s mind. The king is Wildemar, as is the rest of the royal family.”
“Wildemar is so much more than just our family.”
“Don’t be naïve, Kian. It doesn’t become you as you sit poised to ascend to the throne.”
“Only for another few hours. Once we get Garrett back—”
“Once they get Garret back, we’ll see what kind of state he’s in. He may not be ready, or able, to take on his old duties. In which case, you will remain Crown Prince of Wildemar until he is.”