Her footsteps come closer, and I think I hear her inhale. The lock scrapes open, and the door swings inward. Jolie stands in the opening, her eyes shining and her mouth set in a thin line.
“Your Highness?”
She’s stunning. More than stunning. She’s the embodiment of everything I want, from her thick, wavy hair, to her willowy body. Even the hostility in her face doesn’t put me off.
I take a deep breath. “Can I come in?”
She doesn’t react for a moment, watching me. Then, with a sigh, she opens the door wider. “I guess it’s as much your cottage as it is mine.”
When I’m inside, Jolie closes the door behind me and takes a step away from me. Her eyebrows arch in question.
I take a step toward her, but she holds up her hand.
“Not this again.” She shakes her head, averting her gaze.
“Not what again?”
“You. Not you, your Highness.” She raises her gaze up to mine, and the determination in her face nearly knocks me back. She continues: “You can’t kiss me like that and then scream at me to leave. You can’t treat me like a toy that you can pick up and put down again. If you want me to leave Westhill, I will—but I won’t be treated like that.”
Her shoulders tremble.
“I’m sorry.” I say the words softly, and to my surprise, I mean them. I don’t remember the last time I apologized to someone and actually meant it.
She swallows thickly. “Thank you.”
Neither of us moves, and I feel like I’m being torn apart. All I want to do is wrap my arms around her again. I want to feel her body pressed up against mine again, taste her lips, curl my fingers into her hair. I want to devour her, ravage her, and ruin her until she begs me for more.
But an invisible wall stands between us, and I know that I’m the one who put it there.
“I’m not used to this,” I say.
“To what?”
“To wanting someone like I want you.”
Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and I can see the pulse thumping in her neck.
“I’m just here to take care of the roses until my father is better,” she responds quietly.
“What about the kiss?”
“What about it?”
“I know you want me, Jolie. No one kisses like that unless they want you.”
“What does it matter if I want you?” She shakes her head, scoffing. “Of course I want you. How could I not? Look at you! But I don’t want to be yelled at or treated like a cockroach whenever you feel like you’ve had enough of me.”
My heart squeezes. I exhale slowly, raking my fingers through my hair. “I’m messed up in the head, Jolie,” I say softly. “I have been ever since I was a kid. I don’t know how to think straight sometimes.”
“Oh, okay—that makes it all better. Let’s have sex, then,” she snaps.
I flick my eyes up to hers to see Jolie shaking her head. Anger flares inside me, but a voice at the back of my head tells me she’s right.
Jolie’s deep, brown eyes are full of fire as she looks at me. “I may be nothing but a gardener and a struggling writer. I may be nothing to you—but saying that you’re messed up isn’t good enough. I’ve been with enough damaged men to know that I can’t fix you, and I don’t want to be anywhere near you when you implode.”
I grind my teeth as a flush passes through my body. My ears feel like they’re burning, and I ball my hands into fists to try and hold myself back.
“I’m your Prince,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Congratu-fucking-lations.” Jolie’s eyes flash. “Are you going to command me to fuck you? Because the answer is still no.”
I take a step toward her. “You have no right to speak to me that way.”
“Neither do you.”
“You should be on your knees in front of me.” I take another stride.
“In. Your. Dreams,” she spits.
The air between us crackles. The hair on my body is standing on end, and I can hardly contain the energy buzzing inside me. Jolie stands her ground, eyes blazing, arms hanging loosely at her sides.
When I take another step, my chest brushes against hers. She lifts her chin defiantly, holding my gaze. I bring my hand up to her jaw, and she smacks it away. Her jaw twitches.
And my cock throbs.
My breath is shallow. The two of us stand motionless before each other, the fury pulsing between us. I won’t back down—I can’t back down.
Every breath escalates the tension between us. Without a movement, without a word, without a sound, Jolie makes the aching inside me more painful, until my whole body screams.
Still, neither of us moves…
…until Jo puts her hand on my chest, and I catch it in my own. The feeling of her skin against mine sends heat exploding through my body, and I can’t resist it anymore.
I pull Jo’s body into mine and crush my lips against hers. She melts into me without resistance, moaning gently as the wall between us crumbles, and desire wins over anger.
Our kiss is electric. Violent. Needy. Jolie sinks her fingernails into the nape of my neck and pulls me into her body. I claim her lips, relishing the taste of her mouth as she trembles against me.
Panting, I pull away. “You want this?”
Her nails dig into my neck. “Don’t play the nice guy now, your Highness. Just shut up and kiss me.”
15
Jo
I hate him. I want him. I need him. Anger fuels my desire as I wrap my arms around the Prince’s neck, pulling him in for a deeper embrace.
The Prince grunts, sinking his fingers into my hips as he pulls me closer. His kiss is white-hot, and every touch singes my skin. As he grinds his hips against me, I moan.
The Gardener’s Cottage is small. It’s one large living and kitchen area, with a bedroom and a bathroom opening onto it. It almost feels like this space is too small to contain us both. There’s too much heat in here to be held in by these four walls.
As the Prince walks me backwards, my thighs hit the back of the sofa. His broad, strong body presses into my own. Fire rips down my spine as desire comes over me in waves.
If I thought the kiss in his chambers was intense, I had no idea what was coming to me. This is more than intense. It’s electric. It’s angry. It’s viciously needy.
Prince Gabriel drops his lips to my neck. He molds his body to mine as his lips trail down to my collarbone. With both hands, he lifts my shirt off over my head and growls as he sees my body. His hands slide up to my chest, ripping my bra down to my waist as his lips drop to my breasts.
I gasp when I feel his teeth graze my nipples, his hands holding me as if I belong to him.
Right now, I do. I hate it and I love it at the same time.
Running my fingers over his shoulders, I shiver at the feeling of his hard, warm muscles under my touch. His own hands drop to my ass, dragging me closer to him. The hardness of his cock through his pants makes the heat in my belly burn hotter. I gasp. The Prince lets out a low chuckle. His eyes are dangerous and flinty—anger and desire still war within him.
I scramble to unbutton his shirt. He watches me with hooded eyes, letting the garment drop behind him. My hands fly to this shoulders again, and he unclasps my bra, flinging it across the room.
Without warning, the Prince tangles his fingers into my hair and pulls my head back. He crushes his lips against mine, grunting as he grinds himself against me. My skin is on fire. Everywhere he touches sparks.
The press call Prince Gabriel an animal—and now, I see that it’s true. With his hand still gripping my hair, he pulls my head back and watches me, panting.
“Do you still want me to leave?”
“I never wanted you to leave.” My chest heaves and I force myself to hold his gaze. Everything inside me is screaming to submit. To comply. To give myself over to him completely.
His fist tightens in my hair, sending needles of pain and pleasure through my skull. The Prince’s other hand dr
ops to my breast and he brushes my nipple with his thumb. It’s a gentle touch, but the look in his eye betrays something more.
My body screams for him.
As if he can hear it, the Prince drops his hand between my legs. A dark smile appears on his face when he feels the warmth and wetness between my legs, even through the fabric of my gardening pants. Without a word, Prince Gabriel unbuttons my pants and slips his hand down the front of them
Closing my eyes, I let out a long breath as his hand slides through my slit. My body arches toward him, and I know I’ve completely lost control over myself. I want him so badly I can’t think straight.
“Open your eyes,” he growls. “I want you to look at me while I make you come.”
I do as he says. How could I not?
I love obeying his commands. I love the feeling of his fingers curled in my hair, while his other hand drags up and down my wetness. I love the darkness in his eyes as he watches the pleasure bloom across my face.
My heart hammers in my chest. The Prince licks his lips as he moves his hand toward my opening, and another wave of pleasure passes through me. I reach for his cock, wanting to feel its hardness in my hand, but he growls in warning.
“No.”
“I want…”
“I don’t care what you want.” The Prince drives his fingers inside me, and my hands fall to the couch behind me. I grip the edge of it as he pleasures me. When I close my eyes, he commands me to open them again.
And I do. I’d do anything he tells me.
His fingers slide up to my bud and heat explodes across my thighs. My breath catches and a moan slips through my lips.
The Prince can sense the pleasure cresting. He tightens the grip on my hair as I hold onto the couch. My legs buck, my back arches, and my body submits to him.
I come.
As Prince Gabriel brings me to orgasm, he kisses me hard. I moan into his mouth, unable to move, or think, or do anything except ride wave after wave of pleasure. Heat explodes through my veins. The Prince doesn’t stop until I push him away, panting.
As soon as I push his hand away, I miss it. Shivers are still coursing through my body, but I already know I want more. With a quiet chuckle, he brings his fingers up to his mouth and tastes my wetness.
I watch him, struggling to catch my breath. As I lean against the back of the sofa, we stare at each other wordlessly. The Prince’s gaze drops to my bare chest, to my unbuttoned pants, and back up to my flushed face.
“Did you enjoy that?” He grins, arching an eyebrow.
He’s so fucking cocky. I gulp down another breath and shrug. “It was okay.”
The Prince’s eyes flash, and he’s on me again. I yelp when he spins me around, pushing me down so I catch myself on the back of the sofa. He pushes my pants down to my knees as my heart skips a beat.
I glance over my shoulder just in time to see his palm come down across my ass. Yelping, I flinch as pain explodes into pleasure across my skin.
“Don’t you dare move,” the Prince growls. I hear his pants drop to the floor, and the next thing I feel are his hands on my waist.
Then, I feel his cock—thick, hot, and perfect. He slides it between my thighs and groans in pleasure. My pulse quickens and I grip the sofa even harder. I bite my lip, arching my back to feel him against me. He’s not even inside me, and I’m already losing my mind.
The Prince slides himself against my slit, gripping my waist. One hand leaves my waist and comes down on my ass again with a loud crack. I inhale sharply, and then let out a laugh. My entire existence comes down to this moment. Nothing else matters except what the Prince does to my body. The pleasure he delivers to me is everything.
I push my ass back against him, and the Prince grunts. He pulls away, teasing me. I whimper.
“Do you want me?” He asks.
“Yes.”
“All of me?”
“Yes,” I pant.
The Prince slides his hand between my legs, groaning when he feels the wetness dripping down my thighs. I try to widen my stance, but the Prince stops me.
“I told you not to move.” He smacks my ass again. “Stay right there.”
His fingers slide inside me, but they’re not enough. They’ll never be enough. When he takes them away, I feel empty.
“Please,” I whisper.
The Prince steps closer, pressing his cock against my ass as he leans over me. “What?”
“I want you,” I whisper. “Please.”
“You didn’t want me earlier.”
“I did—always.”
Those words are enough to get me what I want—what I need. The Prince slides his cock inside me, inch by inch, until I’m completely filled. I squeeze my thighs together, arching my back as he moves even deeper.
It feels better than I expected. My fingers curl into the couch and I grip it as tightly as I can. I know what’s coming. I can feel the power coiled inside the Prince, and I know it’ll be unleashed upon me.
I want it. I’m begging for it.
I push back into him and hear him exhale softly. His fingers sink into my waist and we stay there for just a second.
Then, the beast emerges. The Prince drags himself out of me and thrusts—hard. I gasp as pleasure explodes inside me, squeezing my eyes shut as a smile stretches over my lips. Then, he does it again, and again, and again.
The Prince’s hands hold me in place while he drives his length inside me. I moan, gasping when he brings his hand down on my ass cheek.
He’s rough, and I can’t get enough of it. I brace myself against the sofa and slam my body back into his. Roaring in response, the Prince brings his hand down on my ass again. I scream, living somewhere between pleasure and pain.
Is it hatred between us? Or lust? Are we simply acting on a mutual desire, or am I giving him exactly what he wanted by submitting to him? Am I losing myself?
Do I care?
He drives his cock inside me again and I see stars. I scream once again, and the Prince runs his fingers over my ass. When he slides his thumb inside me, I make a noise I’ve never made before. He teases my most forbidden spot while his cock fucks me mercilessly, and I know I’m his.
I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t lie to myself and say that I don’t love this. I’m a doll in his hands, and everything he does to me makes my body burn.
“Come for me,” the Prince demands.
I obey.
My orgasm crashes into me without warning. My legs quake as fire rips through my veins. It steals the scream from my lips as my whole body contracts.
The Prince grunts in response. Just as my orgasm begins to fade, and I start to go limp, I feel his body stiffen behind me. I gasp as he comes inside me, filling me with his seed as we both tremble against each other. It takes all my effort not to collapse until the Prince lets out one last growl. Then, I fall to my knees with a sigh.
16
Gabriel
Jolie is broken on the floor, and I’m struggling to stay standing. I suck in another breath and put my hand to my chest. My heart is racing so hard, I think I might faint.
With one more breath, I’m able to see straight. Jo is still panting on the floor with her pants around her knees. I lean over, pick her up, and carry her around to the front of the sofa. Flopping down on the couch, I cradle her in my arms. Her head lolls forward and rests on my chest, and we stay there for a while without speaking.
Jo’s hand moves to my chest. “Your heart is beating like crazy,” she says quietly.
“I thought I was going to pass out earlier.”
“I think I did pass out.” She laughs weakly, melting into my chest.
We doze off for a few minutes, or maybe longer. Finally, Jolie pushes herself off me. She tries to stand up, but her pants are still around her ankles. Stumbling, she lets out a cute little yelp and trips over herself. Catching herself on the edge of the couch, she manages to half-fall, half-lower herself down to the ground before dissolving into a fit of laughter.
“Was that graceful enough for His Highness, the Prince of Farcliff?” She grins, pulling her pants up and standing up.
“You should teach finishing classes.”
Jo laughs and pours herself a glass of water. She takes a sip before offering it to me. I look at the glass, frowning.
Jo’s eyebrows arch, and she laughs again. “Oh, I’m sorry Your Royal Highness, are you not used to drinking out of the same glass as us peasants? I don’t have any crystal handy for you, and we did just fuck each other’s brains out, so…”
I take the water with a wry grin. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not too repulsive for you?”
I take a sip to prove to her that it isn’t, and then hand the glass back. She watches me, grinning, and then has another sip for herself.
I’d never tell her this, but that’s the first time someone has done that. Is that how normal people treat each other? I watch as Jo puts the glass down on the kitchen counter and pulls her shirt on. She picks up my underwear and pants, tossing them at me.
“Put some clothes on, Your Highness. What would people think?”
“Probably the same they already think about me,” I grin. I dress myself, and look up to see Jo watching me.
“What?” I ask.
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Enjoy what?”
“Riling up the media like you do? Being the bad guy?”
I avoid her eye by focusing on zipping up my fly, and then rake my fingers through my hair. I shrug. “No, I wouldn’t say I like it.”
“So why do you do it?”
“I don’t do it on purpose.”
“Are you sure?” She tilts her head, searching my eyes.
I shift my weight from foot to foot and clear my throat. Reaching down to grab my shirt, I throw it on and start buttoning it up. “You think that just because we had sex, you know me now?”
I know I’m being harsh, but I don’t like the way she’s speaking to me. I’m the Prince of Farcliff, and who is she? The gardener’s daughter.
Knocked Up by Prince Gallant Page 10
