Page 11 of Royal Protector

“Fuck, I say, pulling at my dick with long strokes, panting as I gulp for air. “Isabella. My Isabella.”

Using my teeth and tongue, I trace down the skin of her throat, bared to me in submission. I nip gently where I would put her mate mark before dancing down toward her collarbone and sucking on the soft skin there.

Then, I move onto her breasts, curvy and firm, beautiful and soft, with reddish-brown nipples pointing toward me, hard as a rock with her arousal. I go for the right one first, swirling my tongue around the nipple before sucking on it without mercy.

She arches backwards, forcing her breast closer to my mouth. Her delicate fingers wrap themselves in my hair, and she guides me around her body, so I can love her where she wants it most. She tastes amazing, and she tastes like mine.

When I let my index finger brush over her opening, I find it damp with desperation and need. She shudders at my pleasurable invasion. I swirl the silky liquid of her desire around the soft skin before dragging it upwards and rubbing it into her clit. She bucks against my hand and keens, tossing her head side to side, her face twisted with want.

“You want me, Isabella,” I murmur, and I insert my thick finger inside her. Her walls clamp down around me, and she cries out at the invasion. Then, she begins to rock her pelvis on my fingers, letting my hand give her pleasure, the heel pressing into her sensitive bud.

“More,” she whispers, her body shaking, her voice quivering. I grin down at her. More is something I can always do. I trail kisses down her body until I’m on my knees. Water swirls around my feet, and my face is flush with the intimate vee between her thighs.

“Has any man ever done this for you before?” I ask, pressing a kiss to her thigh.

“No, Antoine. Only you.” She circles her clit in frustration with shaking fingers. “This is only for you.” She cries out again when I trail my tongue from the sensitive skin of her thigh to her slit, her knees nearly buckling.

“Lift your leg,” I say, and she does, hooking her knee over my shoulder while bracing herself against the wall and standing on her other leg. Her face flushes with embarrassment for a moment, but she won’t feel any of that soon. Instead, she will only feel the pleasure I can give her—only me.

I blow on her clit and she jolts at the sensation of both air and water hitting her at once. Then my rough tongue laps at her, and I groan. She tastes like honey, the sweetest taste I’ve ever known. I want to be gentle, but it’s not going to happen.

“Please,” she begs. “I need to come. Make me come.” Gladly, princess. I start feasting on her like she’s my favorite meal, and I’ll never get tired of it. She’s crying out loudly now, her sounds echoing throughout the shower, the sound reverberating against the damp walls.

I dip my fingers into her sweet core and begin fucking her with them, all the while sucking on her clit and watching her every reaction. Her head sways from side to side, her thighs starting to shake. She moans out the wordsplease please pleaseover and over again until she screams, a long throaty cry punctuated by stilted gasps.

Her entire body seizes, her inner walls clamping around me, milking my fingers in a way I know will feel amazing around my dick when I’m finally inside her. When she’s done riding out her bliss, I grab my angry cock, jerking as fast as I can, until at last I’m flung over the edge, my desire pumping out of me and splashing over her belly.

And then it’s over. I come down from the high, come down from the fantasy, and once again I’m alone. Isabella was never here, and it was all just a childish dream, something for me to touch myself over while I wait for my life to fall apart.

Still, if I can only have Isabella in my imagination, it’s better than never having her at all. I get out of the shower and dry myself off, noticing the dark circles under my eyes in the mirror. I look haggard, like I’ve aged more in the past day than I have been in the past ten years.

Sighing, I head to bed, and try to fall asleep on what feels like the longest night of my life.

* * *

The next day,I stay away from Isabella as far as I possibly can. I am under direct orders from Jack to rest up this morning and afternoon, because after the kickoff gala tonight, I won’t have more than a few hour’s rest for a long time.

Usually, that’s okay with me, as I thrive on the adrenaline of a dangerous job. But in this case, a new, unwelcome distraction requires me to be even more vigilant.

I know I should tell Jack what I’ve discovered about Isabella and me. Hell, there’s probably a law somewhere that says I should have told him immediately. But that means I would be taken off of Isabella’s security detail, and I can’t help but want to keep her safe. And if I get to be around her, even for a few days, then I’m going to soak up every minute.

Isabella is staying in her cabin all day as well. Jet lag is no joke, although she had a meeting with Jack and Anna in her cabin around lunchtime. Bastien was the guard at the time, and he didn’t report any disturbances, so I assume everything went well.

Tonight, we ride into the city again. It might seem inefficient to drive back and forth from the Bayou to the city over and over again, but much of the city is vampire territory. It puts us at a disadvantage if we stay there twenty-four seven. In the bayou, we are on our own terms, and it’s a place where we can be ourselves—both human and Rougarou.

Anna picked out a tuxedo for me to wear tonight and for two other galas, spread out throughout the duration of the conference. I don’t think I’ve worn a suit since my parents’ funeral, and I’ve never worn a bow tie ever.

I eventually have to call Maura to my cabin to tie it for me. She tries to explain it to me, but I don’t pick up the intricate fold overs and knots. There’s no point anyway. There is not going to be a lot of tux wearing after this week.

When dusk falls, it is time to leave. I strap on my holster over my dress shirt and then put the suit jacket over that. Guns barely kill any supernatural creatures unless the bullets are silver, and it’s a species sensitive to it. But it slows people down, which sometimes can mean the difference between life or death if you’re trying to escape or get someone to safety. I’ll take what I can get.

As I lock the door to my cabin, I hear a similar sound echo across the path. I turn, and suddenly I can’t breathe.

Isabella stands in front of her cabin, her eyes downcast, her hair pinned up in a scoop of curls. Her dress sparkles in the moonlight, a beautiful starlight blue that looks amazing against her olive skin.

She glances upward and catches my eye for a moment before casting her eyes down again. I can see the defeat in her shoulders. She must think all this is her fault, and I can’t let her think that.

I stride forward, meeting her halfway. Her mouth parts, her red lips glossy and begging for a kiss. Instead, I offer my arm to hers, and she hesitantly takes it.

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