Sold To The Dragon Princes: The Novel

by Daniella Wright

  She let her body guide her movements, increasing the pace and friction against her clitoris according to its will, but eventually it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t by herself with nothing more than her fingers to satisfy her. Gabriel was there, and she wanted to touch, to taste…to know every part of him.

  She reached for him, and seeming to know what she was asking, he leaned down as his fingers replaced hers and rubbed expertly. At the same time, he teased her lips with his tongue and then delved inside. But he pulled back a moment later.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Tess. I didn’t want it to be. But now, I can’t help it. I want you, like this, every night for the rest of my life. I drove myself mad keeping my distance when you were younger, and now, I don’t have the strength.”

  She was having a difficult time understanding his words, more so now that he’d increased his pace and she was teetering on the edge. But he stilled inside her suddenly, and his fingers stopped moving against her. They lingered there, and she moved, trying to create the friction she so desperately needed.

  He chuckled at her wanton behavior. “Do you understand, Tess? I don’t care that I never intended to marry. I don’t care if you played a part in your father’s ploy. I can’t keep staying away.”

  What was he trying to say? It sounded like he was telling her he wanted more than the cold and distant marriage they’d begun. But a ploy? “What ploy?”

  “My father gambled away a large part of Westmoreland property to your father decades ago. The only way he’d agree to return it to me once I’d righted our finances was by marrying you.”

  He’d only married her for a piece of property? Her heart began to sink, but whether it was the feel of him, so right deep inside her, or the look in his eyes, she grasped onto the other things he’d said. “What you’re trying to tell me is that property isn’t the only thing you want from me anymore.”

  “What I’m trying to tell you, Madam, is that I fell madly and hopelessly in love with you years ago and I am unable to do a thing to change that,” he explained as his fingers began to move against her clit once again.

  Still, though her body rocketed toward bliss, what he’d said had been profound enough to sink through the desirous haze. He’d said he loved her…that he’d loved her years ago and still did now.

  Her plummeting heart soared to new heights, and just when she thought it couldn’t possibly soar any higher, he leaned in close. “I love you, Tessa,” he whispered as he thrust inside her as if to emphasize his declaration.

  “I love you, Gabriel,” she whispered back without a moment’s hesitation.

  His pace increased and everything around them disappeared. She murmured his name breathlessly in between cries of pure bliss. And then the coil wound deep inside her body sprung free and the world splintered into a thousands of rapturous pieces.

  As she floated back down to earth, all that Gabriel had said hit her all at once. The man she loved more than anything loved her back, and had for all this time.

  Inappropriate

  ~Bonus Story~

  A Victorian Arranged Marriage Erotic Menage

  “I’m sorry, my lady,” he apologized, his voice right behind her. He laid a hand on her shoulder and a shiver of desire rippled through her body. No, she had to control it. Though he’d been the one to kiss her, she was equally responsible for what happened, allowing her senses to overwhelm her propriety. She barely knew the man, and yet she’d acted like a wanton woman.

  “It was a mistake, and nothing more,” she whispered feebly. “I assure you, I do not normally…what I mean to say is…”

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  Hannah slipped out of the manor into the dark. Tiptoeing across landscaped paths, she made her way to the stable. Peter, the stable hand, slept in the back room, so she would have to be as quiet as possible or risk him informing her uncle, or worse, halting her escape.

  She found the building in the darkness, and felt her way along it to the door. It was closed but not locked. Opening it noiselessly, she was inside in a flash. She already knew which horse she’d take, which was why she’d hidden the saddle in the stall earlier that day.

  “Easy girl,” she whispered to the horse as it raised its paws and its ears pricked at her intrusion. Although her uncle did not permit her to ride often, the two of them were good friends. She’d spent plenty of time in the past several weeks getting the horse very accustomed to her presence, all in preparation for this very night.

  She saddled the horse easily, the mare standing still beneath her gentle ministrations. She yanked the straps once carefully, just to ensure they were well-fastened. She opened the gate then and led the horse down the center of the barn, out into the night before closing the door behind her. She stood still, listening for any sign that she’d been discovered, but there was no movement in the barn, and she saw no lights lit in the manor. She was just about there, but she couldn’t risk mounting the horse just yet. So, holding onto the reins, she led the mare across the field to the gate beyond. Only once she was out on the dirt path did she stop, hoisting herself up into the saddle and digging her heels in lightly to set off at an easy canter.

  A moment passed and then another, and she heard no sound of hooves racing up behind her. This was it. She’d done it. And though she felt the urge to dig in and let the horse run her hardest, it was too dark, too dangerous to do that just yet. She’d have to continue at this easy pace until the first light of dawn brightened the sky. Then, she’d ride off at breakneck speed, never to return to the manor or her vile uncle ever again. She’d taken nothing more than she could carry in the small pack hooked to the saddle; some money and jewels she’d kept hidden from her uncle all this time, and a little bit of food. She could only hope she’d have sufficient food to get her far enough away that she could stop to replenish her supply without fear of recognition.

  Aside from the pack, all she had were the clothes on her back—a dress she’d stolen from her maid. A lady traipsing around the countryside in an expensive gown risked drawing attention. The maid’s clothing had been her only choice. Still, she’d felt badly enough about her thievery that she’d left one of her own gowns in its place.

  Sometime later, the sun peeked out above the horizon some time later and she dug in her heels. The horse responded, almost eagerly, as if she’d been just as unhappy with the slow pace thus far. She breathed a sigh, relieved to finally be covering decent distance. And she kept it up as long as she could, only stopping when she could tell the horse needed a break. She spied a small stream off to the side of the path and slowed down, directing the horse toward it. She grabbed a slice of bread from her pack and took a few sips of water. She’d have to ration the food carefully, otherwise the few pieces of bread weren’t going to last her for long.

  She didn’t know how much time passed, but eventually she grew anxious to be back in motion, riding further and further away from the wretched home she’d known for the past six years. Hoping the horse was rested enough, she mounted her once again and set them off at the same breakneck pace. The entire day passed in the same manner, stopping only when necessary to rest the horse. She didn’t stop for the day until the sun had long ago set in the sky, but it became too dangerous to travel. If the horse slipped and injured herself, neither one of them were going to get much further.

  So, she tethered the horse near a clearing between trees and sat down on the ground, drawing up her knees and ignoring the eerie sounds from the forest behind her. She’d never slept out on her own like this. Fear coursed through her body, threatening to dispel her composure and melt her resolve. If she turned back, she wouldn’t have to suffer through another night of this. But her life at the manor had been fraught with far scarier threats. Her uncle…she’d rather suffer death at the hands of some wild animal than go back to the wicked man. The man who had betrothed her to a stranger she had never even met! Closing her eyes, she willed sleep to come, but though she was tired, every noise d
rew her attention, holding her on the outskirts of sleep.

  When she finally did drift off, she slept fitfully, waking to every howl, whine, or crack of twigs nearby. Giving up as the first light of day peeked through the forest’s canopy, she mounted her horse. She’d made it through the night all on her own—she could do this.

  And the day continued much the same as the previous one, but her hunger began to wear on her. Thinking about the small bundle of bread that remained made her mouth water, but she had to save it. But by evening her stomach roared loudly and clenched violently in its deprivation. She succumbed to its will, nibbling on a single slice while she nestled beneath a large oak tree for the night, trying to block out the eerie sounds around her once again

  The next two days continued the same as the first, but by the end of the fourth day after leaving the manor, all the food was gone. She took comfort in knowing she’d crossed so much distance, but she needed to make it just a little further. Just one more day of riding. She’d look for an inn then, for a hot meal and a solid night’s sleep. Thinking ahead to the following night gave her motivation to keep going. But as she steered the horse toward a clearing as the sunlight waned, her head grew dizzy. She slouched forward, trying to right the world that spun wildly off its axis…

  And then she was on the ground, staring up at the horse above her.

  She must have blacked out at some point and fallen. Heaving herself up off the ground, nausea rose high in her throat and the back of her head throbbed painfully. She must have hit her head when she fell. Come to think of it, the entire left side of her body ached. No doubt, she’d be bruised black and blue by morning.

  Ignoring her aching body and a stomach that screamed in hunger, she unhooked her pack from the horse. But her head continued to spin, even more violently now, and she found it difficult to maintain her balance. She’d put off finding food for too long, she realized too late. She stumbled as she took a step and fell to the ground once more. She was tired…just so tired.

  Chapter 2

  Hannah opened her eyes, but the bright morning’s sun made her squeeze them shut in response. She’d slept so long? Now she’d have to push the horse to travel even faster, except…where was the horse?

  Oh no. She’d been so tired and so weak, she must have forgotten to tie up the horse. Now all she had was her two feet to carry her further. Pressing back the panic that threatened to overwhelm her, she forced herself to stand despite the weight crushing her heart. But she’d no sooner righted her legs beneath her when she heard a noise in the distance. Her horse! It was coming back to her. Thank goodness.

  But it wasn’t her horse that came into view a moment later. It was black, not brown, and there was a rider atop—a man. He couldn’t have caught up! But as she tried to deny it, the panic she’d held back overwhelmed her. She looked around for somewhere to hide, but she’d fallen in the middle of a large clearing and there was nowhere she would go unnoticed. She could run, but there was no way she’d outrun his horse. Still, she had to try, but her legs were so weak and shaky, her effort only sent her sprawling on the ground.

  She flipped over to see the horse and rider. He was close now, too close. So close she could see the wide breadth of his shoulders and the strong set of his jaw. She swallowed hard, but her throat ached in the process, so dry it felt as if she were swallowing glass.

  He was closer now. She could see the way his forest green eyes surveyed her there on the ground. He looked curious, not victorious—her uncle hadn’t sent him. But the man to which she’d been betrothed? She’d never met him—was it him? Even if it wasn’t, that in no way meant she was safe; he was a stranger in the middle of nowhere. Crying out for help would do her no good…

  “May I be of assistance to you, madam,” the man queried as he came to a halt a few yards from her and dismounted.

  She eyed him warily, though her dizziness made it difficult to see him clearly. “I’m…I’m quite all right, thank you,” she tried to reassure him, hoping that he would be on his way.

  “It seems you are not quite all right,” he observed dryly. “Allow me to escort you somewhere,” he offered.

  “That won’t be necessary, but thank you for the offer,” she told him, shifting her weight and forcing herself to her feet once more. Her legs shook with her weary effort, but she refused to succumb to their weakness.

  “You can’t possibly expect me to leave you here.”

  She needed a story. Any story that would send the man on his way. “There is nowhere for you to take me, sir. I am a maid and my employer died recently. His son dismissed all the staff he felt was unnecessary and would give no recommendation. I had no choice but to venture out in search of employment.”

  “And so you ventured out into the countryside?”

  “Yes, well, my employer’s manor wasn’t far from here, I think…or maybe not…but I was hoping to find employment at a nearby property.” The lie tasted foul on her tongue, but she couldn’t risk the truth. There was no guarantee he wasn’t one of her uncle’s men, or that even if he wasn’t, that he wouldn’t send her right back to him if she confessed the truth.

  “And how long have you been venturing out in search of employment?” he queried softly.

  “Only four days, I think. Maybe five.” The hours and days mingled in her dizzy head and she couldn’t be certain.

  “You’ve been wandering around aimlessly by yourself for the past four…or five…days?”

  “Yes, well, I had a horse, but it seems she has sought out greener pastures,” she teased, giggling at her own humor, wondering how on earth what she’d said was at all humorous.

  “I insist you come with me. Weymouth manor is less than five miles from here.”

  “Go with you, sir? I do not even know you,” she told him, as if the idea was preposterous—more preposterous than a lone woman wandering about forest and countryside for days and nights.

  But despite her protest, he was reaching for her, and she found herself without the strength to protest. He lifted her in his arms as if she weighed nothing at all, and hoisted her up on his horse. Her eyes closed and her body swayed forward when he released her. She was just so tired.

  “Damn it!” he cursed and it brought her wide awake, nearly jolting her off the horse and back onto the dusty ground. But he caught her, holding her steady by her waist. She felt him against her back a moment later, and even in her weary state, a wave of awareness rippled through her body at the feel of his hard thighs and solid chest pressed intimately against her.

  “Madam, I fear we are not going to be able to ride like this, especially not with you passing out in front of me,” he told her and she thought maybe he’d put her back down on the ground, unable to help. And it seemed to confirm her assumption when he grasped her by the waist, but as he lifted her, he turned her sideways, arranging her in his lap. He held her against him with one arm, her head pressed against his firm chest, while his free hand held the horse’s reins.

  “Now you may faint as often as you feel necessary,” he told her and she could hear the humor in his tone. She liked his voice; it was deep, husky…it lulled and roused her at the same time.

  She must have fallen asleep against the man, listening to his heartbeat, because when she opened her eyes next, an enormous manor stretched out in front of her. It was beautiful, immaculately kept, and even larger than her uncle’s.

  “Did you have a nice nap, my lady?” he queried with the same humor in his tone as before.

  She tried to right herself, but he was there, adjusting her position, hopping down off the horse and reaching up to help her down. “Welcome to Weymouth Manor.”

  “It’s beautiful, my lord,”

  “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Gage Kensleigh, Lord of Weymouth. And you are?”

  Kensleigh? The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She hadn’t thought to have a name ready for him. She could give him her first name, couldn’t she? “My name is Hannah, my lord.” Her
knees buckled then, though she caught herself before she hit the ground.

  “Forgive me. Please, let us get you inside and worry about getting acquainted once you’ve had a chance to rest.”

  He didn’t wait for her to respond, but took her arm and lead her inside the manor. It was even more beautiful there, though she had a difficult time focusing her gaze on any detail in particular. The ground blurred beneath her as he guided her toward a tall staircase, but she stumbled on the first step. Before she could right herself, he’d swept her up in his arms and he was carrying her up the stairs. She would protest the impropriety of it, but she was too tired. His breathing didn’t become the least bit labored despite the burden he carried, she mused as she drifted off once again.

  Chapter 3

  Hannah awoke to a knock at the door and the feel of smooth sheets around her. She bolted upright. It couldn’t be. It hadn’t all been a dream, had it? She couldn’t be back in her uncle’s manor. But as her gaze darted around the room, her panic ebbed. The walls, the furnishings, the tapestries, none of it looked like her own bedroom. But where was she?

  And then she remembered; the man who had found her, the indecent ride to his manor, the way he’d carried her up the stairs. She had no idea how long she’d slept, but the sun that had been high in the sky when they’d arrived had long since set. She must have been sleeping for hours. She swallowed hard, but the action drew attention to her parched throat. Though she’d slept, she’d neglected her other needs even longer, and now her stomach knotted even more painfully and her cracked lips ached.