Hollow promises mean nothing to me. Past experience has taught me to expect lies and betrayal, the same as every other man in my life. Many failed relationships have hardened my heart. This marriage is nothing more than a business deal. Man, I'm a cold bitch. I muster a smile. "I hope we can at least be friends."
"Oh, we're going to be much more than that." His gaze drops to my mouth and holds there. The ache between my legs grows into a flutter. The setting sun highlights the details of his face; the small scar above his left eyebrow, another one on his upper lip, and the evening stubble sprouting on his jaw.
At the airport, he threads his fingers between mine and leads me across the tarmac to the silver-and-purple private jet. The staff greets us with cheerful congratulations. Inside the plane, sumptuous white leather sofas stretch along the walls lit by soft gold lamps. All the way at the back, a set of double doors opens into the bedroom and a stunning king-sized bed. His gaze follows mine. We buckle into plush bucket seats facing each other. The engines whine as we taxi down the runway.
His gaze follows mine to the bedroom. A smirk twitches his lips as he reads my thoughts. "We'll get to that later."
"Okay." Heat collects in my face. I brush my hair forward to hide my embarrassment.
"Nervous?" Amusement lightens his customary scowl.
"A little." The words stick in my dry throat. I press my sweaty palms together, trying to hide their trembling. Is he going to take me straight to bed, or will he seduce me first? Either way, I'm ready to get it over.
"Don't be." The nose of the jet tilts upward as the wheels leave the ground. He tugs on the knot of his tie and unbuttons his collar, revealing a triangle of tanned skin and curly hair. "As I promised, you don't have to do anything you don't want to."
But I want to. That's the problem. I want to feel the unbearable friction of his hard cock inside me, bringing me to orgasm, and forcing me to feel anything but the misery of the past few days. Sex is a welcome distraction from my problems. And if history is any indicator, he'll pound every single thought from my head.
Henry watches me through hooded eyes. What mysteries lie behind the veil of his thick, dark eyelashes? Once the plane levels off and the captain lifts the seatbelt restriction, my pulse races. This is it. I'm going to fuck this gorgeous prince, my husband, and I'm going to like it. A lot. Again.
Henry stands and extends his hand. "Ready?"
My knees quake as he shuts the doors of the bedroom, separating us from the staff. We've hardly been alone at all since he proposed yesterday. His Manhattan hotel suite had been filled with assistants, advisors, and handlers. The reality of what I've done hits home with equal parts of terror and excitement. Heinrich Von Stratton, Crown Prince of Androvia, is about to take me into his bed and ravish me. I suppress a nervous chuckle.
He wastes no time stripping out of his shirt. The expanse of his chest is thick with muscle and covered with a sprinkling of hair. A dark trail dips down to his belly then below the waistband of his slacks. His nimble fingers unclasp his belt, slide the leather through the belt loops, then open his fly. I swallow at the massive bulge behind the silk of his boxer briefs. He's already turned on. By the time my eyes return to his face, he's wearing a cocky grin. His pants fall to the floor. He steps out of them and kicks them aside. "Your turn."
Blood rushes through my ears, drowning out the chaotic thudding of my heart. I lift my hair and spin around, exposing the back of my dress to him. "Will you unzip me?"
"With pleasure." The zipper growls and parts. Cool air rushes over my exposed skin. He leans forward, pressing his lips to the curve of my shoulder, sending tingles along my spine. His breath is hot against my back. "I've been waiting for this moment all day, and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it."
I turn around to face him. He's so close, I can see the gold flecks in his blue eyes. The silk dress whispers over my shoulders and puddles at my feet. I lower the straps of the white satin bra, unhook the clasp and toss it onto the floor next to his pants. He steps back. The weight of his gaze crawls over me. The seconds drag by. He takes his time, inspecting every inch of my body, lingering on the tight pink points of my nipples, the small appendix scar above my hipbone, and stopping at the tiny triangle of white lace covering my sex. I resist the urge to cover myself and let him look. After all, this isn't our first time. We've had casual sex twice before. If you can call a mid-day hookup and some light bondage at a voyeuristic club casual. This time, however, this time is different. More meaningful, more intense. When his gaze returns to mine, his eyes are almost black.
"Take your panties off."
Oh, dear lord. I'm ready to combust from the bite of his command. I hook my thumbs into the elastic strings on my hips and lower them, taking my time, teasing him. He studies my bare pussy for a minute then runs his tongue over his bottom lip. I like the feeling in control of his desire, of having the upper hand after being a pawn in everyone else's game. The power is dizzying.
He steps forward, bridging the gap between us. The scent of his cologne is spicy and sharp. "No more shaving this." The heat of his palm cups the space between my legs. "Is your hair red here too?"
"Yes." My throat aches at the gentle glide of his fingers over my inner thighs. The backs of his knuckles brush my sex. I draw in a breath, waiting for the sing of blood to subside in my ears.
"So beautiful." His hands skate along my hips and press against the small of my back. He pulls me against him, flattening my breasts against his hard chest, and drops his lips to my ear. His voice buzzes against my earlobe. "Breathe, Everly. Relax."
The circle of his arms releases the wariness in my muscles. I nuzzle my nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling the masculine fragrance of his skin. In his embrace, I feel protected and safe. And I need it badly—even if it's an illusion. My eyelids drift closed. The length of his cock presses against my belly. He's heat and hardness and strength, a refuge in the shitstorm of my life.
"Don't let go." In a tempest of uncertainty, his large body anchors mine. I need to forget the mistakes I've made, the trusts I've broken. Just for one night.
In direct opposition to my request, he backs up a few paces. My body sways, drawn toward him by an invisible magnetic force. He lifts a hand to prevent me from following him. "Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you tonight?"
The moisture evaporates from my mouth. After dragging my tongue over the rough surface of my lips, I try to speak. "I can't even guess." The second time we had sex, he'd strapped me to a bench, spanked my ass until it glowed, and fucked me from behind. The memory of it soaks my panties.
"I've thought about it a lot—how I'm going to throw your legs over my shoulders and sink so deep inside you that you scream my name." One of his hands slips into his black boxer briefs to grip his cock. He strokes it—up and down, over and over. The crown peeks above the waistband, eager for freedom. "But before we begin, I need to make a few things clear about what I expect from you."
The authority in his voice dissolves the strength from my knees. In the background, the jet engines hum, echoing the sing of adrenalin through my veins. "You're scaring me."
"Fear can be healthy." He grabs his discarded belt from the corner of the bed, doubles it, and smacks the loop against his palm, like he's testing it. The thwack of leather against skin reverberates through my body. "But fear isn't what I want from you."
"You want to dominate me." Aside from his hand on my bare bottom, no one has ever hit me. It's a few yards from where I stand to the closed bedroom door. Even if I make it there, where will I go? We're cruising above the clouds over the ocean. My pulse escalates until I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. "I'll warn you now. I'm not very good at taking orders."
"You see, what turns me on isn't cable ties or whips or pain." The angles of his face sharpen as he lowers his head toward mine. With the tip of his nose, he traces the curve of my jaw then nuzzles aside my hair. The softness of his lips brushes across the shell of my ear, light enough to
send a shiver down my back. His breath heats my earlobe. "What I want is much more precious and infinitely more difficult to acquire. I want to own you. Inside and out."
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Also by Jeana E. Mann
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THE REBEL QUEEN DUET
The Royal Arrangement
The Rebel Queen
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AVAILABLE NOW
The Exiled Prince Trilogy
The Exiled Prince
The Dirty Princess
The War King
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Pretty Broken Series
Pretty Broken Girl
Pretty Filthy Lies
Pretty Dirty Secrets
Pretty Wild Thing
Pretty Broken Promises
Pretty Broken Dreams
Pretty Broken Baby
Pretty Broken Hearts
Pretty Broken Bastard
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Felony Romance Series
Intoxicated
Unexpected
Vindicated
Impulsive
Drift
Committed
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Standalones
Monster Love
Dirty Work
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Short Stories
Everything
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About the Author
Jeana is a USA Today and Publishers Weekly bestselling author from Indiana. She gave up a career in the corporate world to write about sexy billionaires and alpha bad boys. With over twenty books, three series, and many awards beneath her belt, she’s never regretted her choice to live out her dream. She’s a free spirit, a wanderer at heart, and loves animals with a passion. When she’s not tripping over random objects, you’ll find her walking in the sunshine with her rambunctious dogs and dreaming about true love. Subscribe to Jeana’s newsletter and get the inside scoop on new and upcoming releases, giveaways, and much more! CLICK HERE
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