Royally Unexpected: An Accidental Pregnancy Collection

by Lilian Monroe

  10

  Damon

  Despite how it might seem, I didn’t plan this. But now that we’re here and Dahlia is a multicolored, sopping-wet mess on top of the Throne of Farcliff, I’m not mad.

  This is definitely the hottest thing I’ve ever done.

  Dahlia reaches between my legs and lets out a soft gasp when she feels my hardness. I’m practically bursting out of my pants.

  How else would I be? The woman of my dreams just came for me, on my command, when I held her down on top of the throne. Her legs clamped around my ears and her whole body convulsed as I tasted her orgasm for the first time.

  Of course I’m fucking hard.

  She glances up at me and then unzips my pants. My cock springs free and Dahlia slides my pants and underwear down. Her delicate fingers wrap around my shaft and a lump forms in my throat.

  No, I didn’t plan this. Yes, I’m one hundred percent happy with the outcome.

  I watch her lips part, and mine open in response. Her tongue swipes across her lower lip, and I do the same to my own. I can still taste her orgasm on my lips, and it makes my cock throb in her hands. She smiles, flicking her eyes up to mine.

  I would watch this girl hold my cock in her hand any day of the week.

  When she closes her eyes and takes my crown in her mouth, I nearly lose my mind. Her mouth is warm, and wet, and so fucking perfect it makes my head spin. She sucks my cock deep down into her throat and I lean over to catch myself on the back of the throne. My eyes stayed glued on this perfect pixie girl as she works her lips up and down the length of my shaft.

  I don’t remember the last time I was this turned on. My cock throbs against her lips as she swipes her tongue over the tip. My shaft is glistening with her saliva as she wraps her fingers around the base, squeezing gently as her tongue continues to tease me.

  Holy-fucking-Farcliff, Dahlia Raventhal is unreal. My pulse is hammering. My arm is trembling as I hold myself up on the back of the throne. I can’t do anything except stare at her mouth as she takes my length inside it once more.

  When her eyes dart up to mine and her lips curl into a smile, I almost explode. All I want to do is pull my cock away and cover her in ropes of my cum. Across her plump, pink lips, over her flushed cheeks, into her pastel hair. If she keeps looking at me like that, it won’t take long for me to do just that.

  I grunt when she pumps her hand up and down my shaft and take a step back.

  Her eyebrows shoot up. “You okay?”

  “I’m good,” I say, gulping down a breath of air. “I’m better than good.”

  Sweeping my arms around her, I lift her up off the throne so she’s standing in front of me, and I crush my lips against hers. I curl my hand into her hair and pull it back until she gasps, and then I take her lips again. Dahlia rolls her hips toward me and I can’t wait any longer.

  I reach to the back of her dress and pull down the long zipper that goes down the length of her spine. She pushes my pants off the rest of the way and I kick them away. I kiss her again, more frantically this time. I need her. Dahlia reaches for my shirt, but I put my hand over hers to stop her.

  She frowns. “What?”

  “Just—leave it on.”

  “You’re self-conscious?” Her hands feel my body through my shirt. “Because let me tell you, Your Highness, you don’t have to be. Your body is gorgeous.”

  I smile, kissing her. I can’t tell her that I don’t want her to see my scars, my bruises—the evidence of the darkness inside me. As close as I feel to her, I’m not ready to show her that side of me.

  We spin around and I fall back onto the throne, sitting in the one seat that will never be mine.

  Dahlia’s eyes sweep down to my cock, and then she unclasps her bra and lets it fall to the floor. She stands in front of me as I sit on the throne, and for just a moment, we stare at each other.

  Her pubic hair is a neatly trimmed, perfectly shaped pastel rainbow, and all I want to do is watch my cock driving in and out of it. Dahlia reaches over to me, sliding her hand over my cock again.

  I can’t wait any longer. I grab her by the waist and pull her on top of me. Her legs nestle in next to mine, and that multicolored slit brushes up against my hardened cock.

  I shiver in anticipation and my breath catches. My chest is heaving. My hands sink into her thighs.

  Dahlia reaches between us and angles my cock against her opening. When she sinks down onto it, we both exhale in unison.

  Buried inside her to the hilt, I pause. I can feel her body adjusting to my girth, stretching and pulsing and squeezing me as she lets out a sigh. Dahlia’s hands slide over my shoulders and her eyes meet mine. A smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and I know I’m in heaven.

  I thrust myself into her—hard. She yelps, squeezing my shoulders and falling into me. Her lips brush my neck as I drive myself inside her again and again. Dahlia catches herself, then, and uses the throne behind me to lift herself up.

  Then, I learn just how wild Dahlia Raventhal really is. She bounces on my cock like no one I’ve ever seen. She hangs off the throne of Farcliff and spears herself with my shaft, gasping and whimpering as our bodies collide. Her tits bounce, her back arches, her legs buck, and we fuck each other hard and fast.

  My breath is ragged and my heart is on the verge of exploding in my chest.

  Without warning, Dahlia spins around so we’re both facing the same way. She leans her back against my chest and grinds herself against me, moaning and letting her head fall against my neck. Her body fits perfectly against mine.

  My hands are on her in an instant—one hand across her breast, teasing her nipple. It’s hard as a pebble between my fingers and Dahlia moans when I take it between my thumb and forefinger. My other hand drops between her legs, circling her clit. She rewards me with another whimper, rolling her hips against me as my cock sinks even deeper inside her.

  Dahlia’s hands grip the sides of the throne and I fuck her mercilessly. She’s a rag doll on top of me, bouncing at every thrust as I drive myself inside her. I can’t think. I can’t speak, I can’t do anything except focus on her silken walls gripping my shaft and her perfect, petite body pressed against mine.

  I don’t want to come yet. This is too good. It’s too intense. Too fucking perfect for me to stop.

  So, I don’t.

  Not until I feel her walls contract around my shaft. Not until her body stiffens and her toes curl. Not until both her legs are shaking and she lets out the most gorgeous, perfect scream of ecstasy I’ve ever heard.

  Only then do I let go. With a roar, I empty myself inside her, splashing my cum deep into her as I clutch Dahlia against me.

  The only sound in the throne room is the thumping of my heart and the deep, ragged breaths that Dahlia and I take. We sit atop the throne, naked and speechless.

  Finally, Dahlia stirs against me and lays a soft kiss against my neck. She lets out a contented sigh and nuzzles her face against my chest.

  “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting that,” she says.

  “Neither was I,” I respond, “but I can’t say I hadn’t dreamed about it.”

  She chuckles weakly, and then peels herself off me. Squeezing her legs together she shakes her head. “Is there a bathroom nearby? I’ve got to clean this mess up,” she grins.

  “Just out that door, but we’d better get dressed first.”

  Dahlia leans over to pick up her damp, crumpled-up panties and shakes her head. “You owe me a new pair of undies.”

  “I will gladly buy—and ruin—as many pairs of underwear as you want.”

  Dahlia laughs, glancing at me sideways as she slips the rest of her clothes on. I do the same, and then tap the console to unlock the doors.

  “This way,” I say, glancing once more at the throne. Apart from one damp spot on the seat, it looks untouched—but I know I’ll never look at it the same way again.

  Dahlia follows my gaze and a flush creeps over her cheeks. “I can’t believe we ju
st did that.”

  A voice calls out from behind the throne.

  “Did what?”

  Dahlia and I both freeze, and the blood drains from her face. From a doorway behind the throne, Aunt Malerie steps out of the shadows and into the throne room.

  11

  Dahlia

  Malerie Farcliff gives me the creeps, especially when she looks me up and down two minutes after I had the bejeezus screwed out of me on top of the Throne of Farcliff.

  I know I’m blushing. I wouldn’t even call it a blush. I’m so red I probably look like I just did an intense sprint in August heat, and also have a sunburn. ‘Tomato’ doesn’t even come close to describing how my face looks right now.

  Lady Farcliff steps into the throne room and glances from me, to Damon, and back to me again.

  Her eyes are sharp, and her gaze makes me feel naked. Not in the ‘I’m at home and I don’t care who sees’ kind of way. It’s a shameful, embarrassed kind of naked feeling that I’ve never experienced before.

  Damon clears his throat. “Aunt Mal,” he says. “Nice to see you.”

  I glance over at him and notice two of the buttons on his shirt have come undone, revealing a sliver of his bare chest. I cringe.

  It’s painfully obvious what we’ve just been doing, and if Malerie Farcliff decides to use this bit of gossip to her advantage, I could be in deep, deep trouble. Worse trouble than I’m already in by being involved with Prince Damon. What we just did… that could land me in jail. I could be banished, just like my mother.

  Maybe it runs in the family.

  Although, something tells me that my mother never did what we just did.

  Lady Farcliff takes a step closer to us and my heart beats faster.

  “I never thought I’d see the day that another Raventhal was invited to Farcliff Castle.” She arches an eyebrow. Her gaze sweeps up and down my body, freezing me on the spot. Even if I wanted to run away, I don’t think I could.

  I gulp. “The King was very gracious to invite me.”

  “Gracious,” she repeats, swinging her eyes to Damon. “Indeed.”

  Damon clears his throat. “Is there… Can we help you with anything, Aunt Malerie?”

  Lady Farcliff shakes her head so slightly I almost miss the movement. “I was just on my way back in and I heard something… strange. I wanted to make sure no one was in trouble.” Her eyes flick to the throne, to that little wet patch on the seat. If the ground opened up at my feet and swallowed me whole right now, I wouldn’t be mad. I’d welcome the oblivion with open arms.

  Prince Damon, thankfully, notices my discomfort. He puts a hand on my lower back to support me, and the warmth of his skin warms me through the fabric of my dress. With a small bow to his aunt, he gestures to a door on the side wall.

  “If you’ll excuse us, Aunt, I was just giving Dahlia a tour of the castle. We still have lots of ground to cover.”

  “Of course,” she says, painting a false smile on her face. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  I feel her eyes on my back until the door closes behind us, and I let out a sigh. I turn to Damon and smack his chest with my palm.

  “What’s that for?” He asks, catching my hand.

  “We should never have done that. She knew.”

  “She can’t prove anything.”

  “There’s no CCTV in there?”

  Damon laughs, catching my chin in his hand. He lays a soft kiss on my lips and wraps his arms around me. “If I wanted to film you, I’d ask you first.” His eyes flash. “I mean, if you’re into that kind of thing…”

  “I’m not,” I say, pulling away. My heart is still racing.

  This is all wrong. So, so wrong. There is nothing right about this situation.

  Not the throne room, not Malerie Farcliff, not me—a Raventhal—being at the castle.

  It’s wrong.

  The only thing that felt right was Damon’s lips on mine, and his shaft buried deep inside me. That? That was right. That was perfect.

  My breath hitches and I squeeze my eyes shut.

  If Malerie Farcliff even whispers a word of this to anyone, it would cause a scandal of epic proportions. It could ruin Damon’s chances of becoming a well-respected doctor.

  It would kill my mother.

  “Hey,” Damon says softly, stroking my arm. “Come on. It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay, Your Highness,” I whisper. “I should never have come here.”

  “Come on,” he says, taking my hand. “The restroom is just down here. We can get cleaned up and then we’ll both feel better. Don’t worry about Aunt Mal. She’s grumpy and easily offended, but she’s not dangerous. Her bark is worse than her bite.”

  I force a smile, but I don’t quite believe him. Judging by how my family only said her name in hushed whispers, I suspect that Mal Farcliff’s bite is very much as bad as her bark.

  Damon leads me to a bathroom. “I’ll wait out here,” he says. “You go first.”

  “Thanks.” I push the door open and pause, glancing back at him. “Your shirt came unbuttoned, by the way.”

  “Shit,” he says under his breath, looking down at himself. I catch a glimpse of a long, white scar across his chest and I frown, but he buttons his shirt too quickly for me to look more closely. Is that why he didn’t want to take his shirt off?

  Damon sighs. “I was wondering why she was staring at me like that.”

  “I think it’s obvious what we were doing in there, Damon.”

  His eyes lift up to mine and a smile flashes across his face. “You called me Damon.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. “Did you not hear me? She knows what we were doing.”

  “We’re supposed to be two lovebirds dating each other,” he says, leaning against the wall. “We’re in the honeymoon phase, remember? We should be having sex everywhere and anywhere, multiple times a day.” A roguish smile tugs at his lips, and a strand of hair falls across his forehead. My heart skips a beat. Why does he have to be so damn handsome?

  Damon reaches over to me and strokes my cheek. “Come on, Dahlia. It’s fine. She can’t hurt you—no one can. I promise.”

  “Anyone ever tell you not to make promises you can’t keep?”

  Damon leans over and kisses my forehead. “I’ll be right here. Hurry up, I have to pee.”

  “Is that how the Prince is supposed to talk to his lover? I thought we were still in the honeymoon phase.”

  He smiles again, and my heartbeat quickens. Damn my heart and damn him! Why couldn’t this be easy? Why did he have to be so perfect for me—and so wrong at the same time?

  With a deep breath, I turn away and head into the bathroom. I lock the door behind me and head to the sink, where I splash water on my face to try to calm myself down.

  I lean against the marble vanity with my head dropped onto my chest. There are so many emotions warring inside me. My heart and my mind are tugging me in opposite directions.

  Heart—and body—toward Damon. Towards the euphoria he creates in me. Towards the mind-blowing orgasms that he gives me.

  But my mind holds me back. It reminds me of my upbringing, of the pain of not growing up with my parents, of the danger that my mother always warned me about.

  I think of all the questions that remain unanswered, and the feeling in my gut that I shouldn’t trust anyone in the Farcliff royal family…

  …and I know that my mind has to win.

  As much as it kills me, this has to stop. As much as Prince Damon has wriggled his way into my heart, I know it can’t go any further than this.

  He’s not the square, clean-cut guy I thought he was—he’s so much more. But I’ll never find out exactly what’s underneath his proper exterior, because I can’t get involved with him.

  If only for my mother’s sake, I need to keep my distance.

  12

  Lady Malerie

  Malerie watches Damon and the Raventhal girl disappear through the doorway, and her stomach sours. Her li
ps turn downward as she shakes her head.

  Fifteen years later, she has to deal with yet another Raventhal bitch trying to sink her claws in the royal family. Malerie saw the way Damon looked at Dahlia before their dinner. She saw the way he put his arm protectively around Dahlia when Malerie stared.

  He cares about her.

  Sweet, stupid Damon.

  Wasn’t it enough to deal with the death of the Queen? Didn’t the Raventhals learn their lesson? Farcliff has had fifteen years of peace, and now it’s the same set of problems cropping up all over again.

  Well, Malerie won’t let it happen again.

  Stepping lightly around the throne, she casts an eye over the ornate chair.

  Because that’s all it is—a chair.

  For how many years did she wish she could sit in it? How many times did she resent the fact that her ape of a brother got the title, and the glory, and the power?

  Disgusted, Malerie walks across the Great Hall to the opposite side. Her steps echo in the empty room, and she feels so, so alone.

  Damon won’t get a chance to sit on the throne, either. He’s like her—wretched number two. Charlie, the eldest, has always been a king. Everyone knows it—including him. He’s been treated like he owns the palace since he was an infant. Gabriel, the youngest of the brothers, has too much of his father in him. Brutish and dark, he’d never make a good ruler.

  But Damon? He’s different.

  He’s like Malerie. How she wishes she could teach him how to enjoy his life! She could show him what it means to make the most of a bad hand.

  When she reaches the other end of the room, she glances back toward the door through which Damon and the Raventhal girl disappeared. A snarl twists Malerie’s lips, and she vows to protect Damon from the girl. Whatever it takes, there won’t be another Raventhal slithering around the castle.