Sold To The Dragon Princes: The Novel

by Daniella Wright

  “My lord, I don’t think…”

  “That’s right, Hannah. Don’t think. Just feel. Feel my hands on your body; feel your own body’s response to mine. It wants this. You can’t deny it. I can smell how much you want this. He breathed in deep, the scent of her arousal stimulating his nostrils. He knew without a doubt that when his fingers moved lower, slipping between her delicate folds of flesh to the core of her, she would be slick with her own wetness. And just to prove emphasize his point, he slipped lower suddenly, delving inside her quickly. Her body jerked at his invasion, but she didn’t pull away.

  He withdrew, bringing his fingers up in front of her. Her blush deepened, seeing the proof of her arousal on his fingers, and watching as he tasted her from his fingers. And her blush grew deeper still as he put his fingers to her lips.

  “Open, Hannah,” he demanded and he pressed his fingers harder against her.

  She parted reluctantly, though he saw the way she squeezed her thighs together, no doubt against a rush of arousal.

  “You are by far the most intoxicating taste I’ve ever savored, Hannah.” It was true; nothing he’d ever sampled was half so delectable.

  Her tongue brushed against his fingers in her mouth, and fire blazed in her eyes in response. Damn, the woman was incredible.

  Suddenly, he could wait no longer. He had to have her; he needed to feel her wetness surrounding him. Trying his best to rein in his desire, he grabbed her arms and thrust her toward the bed a few feet away. The backs of her legs hit the mattress and she stumbled back. He was there before she could right herself and he shucked his clothing swiftly. He climbed on the bed, hovering over top of her for the briefest of moments, gazing down at the inferno in her eyes. It blended with the uncertainty that hovered beneath, but she didn’t seek to scurry away from him.

  He lined himself up and in one, fluid thrust, he drove in, sheathing himself in her slick heat.

  Oh no. He felt it too late, the unbroken barrier inside her. He had thrust right through it before he could pull back, but he stilled deep inside her. “Hannah, you’ve never…I thought…”

  She’d been fleeing a man, he was certain of it. And by the way her body had responded to him at the pond, he’d assumed she was not unaccustomed to the needs of a man and a woman. But he’d been wrong, and now he’d taken from her. But oh god, she felt incredible, and he couldn’t bring himself to pull out, to leave her tight heat.

  “Gage?” she whispered and his name sounded like a caress as it slipped from her lips. And though a blush rose high on her cheeks and she looked up at him uncertainly, her body had already begun to move, her hips tilting up toward him in silent need.

  He could not undo what he’d done to her, and as much as he regretted what he’d done, with her lying beneath him, surrounding his cock, he was powerless. He couldn’t help but to give in to what her hips wanted, what every fiber of his body desperately wanted. He began to move, thrusting slowly at first, trying to hold himself in check to give her time adjust to his girth.

  She moaned and writhed beneath him as he picked up his pace, and he reached for her thigh, lifting her leg higher, encouraging her to wrap herself around him. Understanding dawned in her eyes and she wrapped both her legs around his hips, her eyes widening at the delicious angle it provided her.

  He drove them both higher and higher, savoring the tight feel of her every time he thrust in deep. And he lost the battle the moment she screamed his name, toppling over the edge and spasming around him. His own release seconds later had never felt so sweet.

  He rolled off her, and though he’d never been the type of man to linger for long with a lover, he laid down next to her and pulled her close. It felt strangely natural to have her there, her head against his chest, watching the rise and fall of her back with each breath.

  Chapter 8

  He awoke as the first light of dawn began to paint the sky and he was instantly hard. Her body was pressed against his and her feminine hand lay splayed against his chest. He needed to leave for London, but damn it, he wanted to bury himself deep inside her once again, to see her respond with brazen passion.

  Reluctantly, he slipped out of bed, but the movement jarred her awake and she looked up at him, her hair splayed wildly about her pillow. A blush colored her cheeks but she moved to sit up, the cover falling away and baring her breasts before she could pull it back up. He didn’t want her covered; he wanted her in all her naked glory. And the shroud she’d pulled over her body only tempted him to pull it away and reveal the firm, decadent mounds of flesh.

  Without a word, she moved to wrap the blanket tighter around herself and he realized she wasn’t only suffering from maidenly shyness; she was embarrassed—embarrassed about what happened between them, about how she’d responded to him. The thought irritated him in his aroused state and he reached for the cover, yanking it completely off her and exposing every inch of her naked flesh for him. “Don’t ever cover yourself up like that. You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he told her, more gruffly than he’d intended.

  She ducked her head, leaning away just as she had in the stable and in the parlor. She was waiting to feel the sting of his palm against her cheek. He knew it. It angered him to think someone had given her cause to respond in fear like that. And so he tried to temper his response. “What happened…what we shared, it was exquisite. There is no shame in it, Hannah.”

  She nodded and some of the fear seemed to leave her eyes. Eyes that had begun to travel downward, taking in his naked body. He was rock hard already, and though her blush grew deeper, she continued to look. That pleased him immensely.

  He could see her body’s response—arousal filled every fiber of her being. Her lips parted and her tongue came out to lick their dryness, and he couldn’t help but imagine her lips somewhere else. Damn it!

  He lunged for her, kissing her lips and leaning her back on the bed with her legs dangling over the edge. Spreading her thighs, he thrust into her tight heat, and despite her obvious embarrassment a moment before, within seconds, she had wrapped her legs around his hips and she threw her arms around his neck, kissing him with equal fervor to his own.

  His pace increased rapidly, her moans driving him onward until he lost his rhythm, thrusting into her in a frenzied rush, driving them both upward fast. He leaned up and fit his hand between them, finding the nub of sensitive flesh through her soft curls and rubbing at the same frantic speed. He saw it in her eyes, felt it in her body; she was so close.

  He gritted his teeth and forced himself to hold off. And she didn’t even seek to rein it in this time, her back arching and her hips jerking as she screamed his name and toppled over the edge. She was the most amazing creature he’d ever seen. And with that thought in his mind, he found his own release, spilling his seed deep inside her.

  He withdrew reluctantly, knowing he had no more time. He sought out his clothes, getting dressed in a hurry. He saw out the corner of his eye as she reached for the covers again but her hand stilled, no doubt remembering what he’d said, and she lowered her hand to the bed. Rising instead, she retrieved her dressing gown and slipped it on, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, not like she was trying to cover herself up. He smiled and let it be, not wanting to scare her again. Though why the woman felt her body should be covered up was beyond his comprehension.

  He pulled her into his embrace, breathing in her scent and realizing he had no desire to leave—that he had no less need for her now that he’d taken her again and again. Sated only moments before, already he wanted to bury himself inside her warmth. He breathed heavily, tucking away the thought for now. “It’s still early. You should go back to bed,” he told her and then placed a kiss atop her jasmine-scented head. He knew he would never be able to smell it again and not think of her.

  “I won’t be gone long,” he whispered, realizing he intended to make this trip as quick as possible. “Now, put aside your maidenly shyness and kiss me like you cannot wait for my return.”
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br />   She hesitated for just a moment and then did what he asked—with far more fervor than he’d expected. “It seems I am more anxious for your return than I should be,” she confessed, obviously uncomfortable, but brave enough to be honest nevertheless.

  And if he didn’t leave that very moment, there was no way he would be able to anytime soon. “Goodbye, my love,” he whispered, and then left without another word. He wouldn’t even allow himself to look back.

  Chapter 9

  She was alone in the manor—his manor. What was she supposed to do? She had no idea how to feel about what happened…about what she’d allowed to happen multiple times. She was beginning to understand the power she’d sensed in him, but was also certain she’d only gotten a glimpse of wait laid beneath. But did she want to see more? He had forbid her from leaving while he was gone, but he knew nothing of her real situation. What would he think of her if he one day learned the truth? Was he the type of man who would understand her predicament and forgive her lies? Would he throw her out or strike her in his anger at her deception? In some ways, she felt like she knew Lord Weymouth so well, and in others, not at all.

  No more answers came to her as she wandered about the manor for the next three days. Each morning she arose knowing she should leave, and every night she went to bed wondering what had compelled her to stay. Feeling restless the next morning, she dressed on her own and left the room, heading for the stable. Maybe she could see what she could do with the unbroken stallion. But as she approached the wild beast, a stable hand halted her, informing her he’d been given direct orders not to let her near it. Why, that high-handed…

  It was absolute proof she should flee now while she still could. She’d run from one high-handed beast of a man to another who sought to control her life.

  But Lord Weymouth was different, wasn’t he? As confused as her mind was, her body wasn’t. Every moment he’d been gone she had missed the feel of him. She’d wanted to feel him deep inside her, arousing sensations she’d never imagined possible. And she was weak…so weak…because she allowed her body to keep her there, anxiously awaiting his return.

  She had the stable hand saddle the horse Lord Weymouth hadn’t forbade her from riding, and allowed him to hoist her into the saddle. She needed to ride, to feel the wind in her hair and let it blow away all the confusion that riddled her mind. She dug her heels into the horse’s sides and let her take them where it willed, spending the better part of the day in the area surrounding the manor. She was back by dinner, but ate in her room. The dining room had seemed too big and lonely since Gage left. Intending to retire early, she dismissed Violet and began dousing the lights in the room. Realizing she was still too restless to sleep, she wandered out into the hall, but froze abruptly after closing her door behind her.

  Lord Weymouth. He had come back from London already. He stood at the end of the darkened hall, but he didn’t say a word. He stared at her, and she stared back, but something wasn’t right. He was dressed more casually than she’d seen him before, but more than that, his clothing was dirty. Had he suffered an accident trying to get back to her?

  “Are you all right,” she whispered, but his reply was so quiet she couldn’t make it out.

  And then he was there, kissing her. His lips were gentle, probing, asking for permission to enter, so unlike the way he’d taken her mouth before. Perhaps he was extremely tired after a long journey, fraught with trouble. His hands ghosted up and down her arms, but he didn’t crush her against his hard frame. He took her hand then and pulled her into the room across the hall. This wasn’t his room.

  Inside, the room was dark, and once he closed the door behind them, not even the low light burning in the hallway lit up his tall frame. Just the moon shining in through the window.

  He stripped her slowly, taking the time to unfasten her gown and shift, and slip them down her body. And then his hands grazed over her curves, caressing her hips and her waist, cupping her breasts in his hands. He was so gentle with her, it should have made the sensation exquisite, but it didn’t. Something wasn’t the same. He wasn’t the same as he’d been the other night when he’d driven her wild and turned her into a wanton woman. Still, she focused on the friction of his hands against her, willing her body to respond, desperate for the all-encompassing passion he’d wrenched from her.

  He stepped back then, and she watched as he disrobed, remembering the sight of his hard shaft erect against his abdomen the other morning when he’d taken her without warning. He’d been frantic with desire and a thrill had raced through her knowing she had done that to him.

  He drew her back to the present as he lifted her in his arms, laying her down gently in the middle of the massive bed. She focused on the feeling of him between her thighs as he climbed up and settled over top of her. And he drove in slowly, so unlike the way he’d buried himself to the hilt before. When he was deep inside her, he stilled, shuddering as he groaned low in his throat.

  He began to move and she wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to draw him deeper. He leaned down, kissing along her jaw, her neck. As he moved lower and encircled her nipple with his tongue, it elicited a similar jolt of desire to the one that had rocketed through her before, and she tilted her hips to guide his friction against the place she needed it most.

  His pace increased, and she focused on the friction, the rub against her womanhood that kindled the fire. He groaned above her, and she latched onto that, too, focusing on the way she was making his body respond. His ragged breath against her ear, she felt it begin to build slowly. She wanted to ask him to roll, to settle her on top of him like he’d done before so she could help to guide her own pleasure, but this would have to be enough.

  And finally, it was. She was almost there. Just a little more. If she could just…yes. Yes, that was it. The coil wound tight inside her and then sprung free, and she whispered his name as she floated back down.

  He stilled inside her. No, his whole body froze, and she wondered what was happening. He withdrew and in the dim light she could see what he was doing. He’d grabbed hold of himself, still right there between her legs, and he mimicked the friction her body had given him, groaning loudly a moment later as he spurted his seed on her intimate folds.

  And then he stood without a word, dressed and left the room. He never glanced back; he never spoke. He left her naked and utterly confused there on the bed in a strange room, recovering from a release that had been nothing like that soul-wrenching climax he’d driven her to before.

  She laid there for a moment, thinking he would return, but when he didn’t she wiped away his seed and dressed, leaving the room for the sanctum of her own, hoping it would relieve some of the confusion inside her. Once there, she laid down on her bed. It wasn’t long before sleep sought to pull her under, and she didn’t resist having found no answers to what had just happened.

  ***

  The next several days passed uneventfully, though her own thoughts were anything but. She sought to make sense of the other night over and over again, but she couldn’t—particularly since it seemed Lord Weymouth had not returned from London, nor was he expected to for several days. So what on earth had happened that night when he’d appeared at the top of the hallway? Had she imagined it? Dreamed it?

  It was the only logical explanation, and yet she could still remember the tentative touch of his fingers, and the slow thrust of him inside her. But as more days past, she accepted it as the only reasonable conclusion. She’d wanted Gage so much that she’d conjured him in her dreams. And it explained her lackluster response to his touch—it was still so new to her that her mind had difficulty conjuring a recollection of it in her dream.

  When he finally returned, she had the matter settled in her mind. She’d started down the stairs after breakfast, intending to visit the stables like she’d done every morning for the past several. He stood in the doorway and saw her there right away. It bothered her a little that he didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see her the
re. He’d ordered that she stay, and no part of him had doubted she’d follow his command.

  But then his eyes swept over her and the fire she saw blaze to life in his gaze threatened to scorch her, even with the distance between them, and she forgot everything but the man in front of her.

  He dismissed his man as she descended the stairs, and she hadn’t even made it off the last step when he caught her up in his embrace, his firm hold enveloping her and molding her against his hard frame. She sighed, realizing the fall she’d taken from a proper lady only weeks before. Now, she longed for his fervent lips and impassioned caresses.

  His hands swept over her body in urgent need and her body responded in kind, her anticipation growing exponentially as he carried her to his room. He tore her gown from her body the moment he closed the door behind him, and he didn’t even bother to undress. He pressed her body back on the bed and freed his massive shaft from his trousers before covering her body with his. He drove in deep in one, smooth thrust, and she revelled in his urgent need for her. She was home. There was nowhere else in the world she’d rather be. Home.

  Chapter 10

  A week passed and then another, and still Gage waited for it to be enough. He waited to get bored with her, but every time he buried himself deep inside her was like the very first time. If he could have, he would have spent every waking moment since he’d returned immersed in her body. But at the same time, he treasured the memory of seeing her face light up in innocent delight when he presented her with her very own Andalusian. He’d surprised her with it the afternoon he’d returned, finally emerging reluctantly from his bedroom after he’d taken her again and again. And he immensely enjoyed watching her intelligent mind at work when they played a game of chess. He could tell when she was feeling most competitive, her brow furrowing in her deliberation of each move.