Page 29 of Defiant Princess

Even if I manage to convince him to back off and let me take the throne alone without a fight, he’s still part of my pack and one of my people. And I don’t see that changing. For all his hatred of Hammer, Ford is desperate to go home. He didn’t come to Zion until he was older, but he smells like one of us, thinks like one of us. He craves the sea in the summer and the mountain snow in the winter like a wolf who was born and raised in our little piece of paradise. As pack Alpha, I’ll have the power to banish anyone for any reason I see fit, but I could never deny Ford a place in a pack where he so clearly belongs.

Belonging is important, especially for wolves, and we’ve both had enough loneliness and isolation to last a lifetime.

Which means there will be no escape from him. From his touch or his scent or all the out-of-control things he makes me feel. Every moment I share with him like this is ammunition he can use against me later, a link in the chain he’s building with every sigh he wrenches from my throat against my will.

“I can’t do this.” I try to sit up, but Ford pulls his hand from between my legs and presses it gently to my chest.

“Yes you can,” he says. “You’re not broken.”

“I didn’t mean that. I’m fully capable of having an orgasm, I just—”

“I didn’t mean that, either,” he cuts in, guiding the strap of my dress off my left shoulder. “I meant that you can get out of your head. You can stop worrying that letting me make you feel good is a trap or a cage.”

I press my lips together, not liking how easily he seems to be reading my mind.

“I’m not here to trap you.” He pulls the strap lower, until the top of my dress draws away from my skin, exposing my breast to the cool evening air.

I knew I should have worn a bra, but I couldn’t find one that didn’t show behind the thin strap. Now, Ford has one less obstacle on the path to dismantling my defenses.

His fingers skim around the edge of my nipple, making the emptiness between my legs feel even more unbearable as he adds, “This is a gift. No strings, no demands.” He bends his head, flicking his tongue over my tightly puckered skin. “After, we can pretend it never happened if you want.”

My fingers are in his hair again, clinging to him as he continues to lick and tease, making me even wetter.

And weaker, a fact I prove as I confess, “I don’t know if I can forget. It’s never felt like this.”

“Like what?” His hand is back between my legs again, gliding down the front of my panties as he drags his teeth over my nipple.

I gasp and spread my thighs wider, begging for him to fill me again, a silent plea he answers by driving two thick fingers into where I ache. My head falls back even as my fingers dig into his scalp, holding him to my nipple as he sucks it deep into the wet heat of his mouth and stars dance behind my eyes.

“Like what, Juliet?” he asks again, but I can’t remember what he’s talking about. The past and the future are both falling away as he fucks me with long, easy strokes of his brilliant fingers.

“Don’t know,” I breathe, my hips lifting into his touch with increasing urgency. “God, I don’t know, Ford. Just please, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

“Never,” he promises. Then he drags the other side of my dress down with his teeth and sets to work tormenting my other nipple and I’m reduced to a panting, trembling, moaning mess. I writhe beneath him, whimpering and gasping as he brings me to the brink and keeps me there for what feels like forever, teetering on the edge, but not letting me go.

“Please, oh please,” I beg, my nails now digging into his shoulders through his shirt. He has one of my legs trapped beneath his thick thigh, pinning me on the lounge as he penetrates me with harder thrusts of his hand, but it isn’t enough.

I want more. I want to disintegrate. I want oblivion and peace and bliss, and I sense I’m only going to find that with him inside me.

I reach down, dragging my nails over the rock-hard bulge beneath his jeans. “Fuck me, Ford. I want your cock in me.”

He brings his lips to mine, kissing me as he says, “I told you. My pants stay on.”

“No,” I say, popping the button on his jeans and dragging the zipper down. “They’re coming off and you’re coming inside me.”

He groans into my mouth. “Don’t say shit like that, Juliet. You have no idea what it does to me.”

“I didn’t mean come inside me.” The small scrap of common sense still functional in my brain hurries to add, “I meant I want you to be my first. We can use a condom.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Then you can pull out,” I say, my breath rushing out with relief now that I’ve managed to get my hand down his boxers and wrapped around his erection. “Just pull out and come on my stomach, but I need to feel you inside me first. Please, Ford. I need it. I need you.”

“And I need to feel you come on my cock,” he says, his thumb rubbing my clit again as his fingers thrust faster inside me. “And then I need to keep fucking you, riding you, marking you with my scent until I can’t take it anymore and I come buried so fucking deep in your pussy, Juliet. If I fuck you right now, I’m not pulling out. I’m going to shoot every drop inside you.”

I moan and buck harder into his touch, torn between being horrified by what he’s saying and so turned on I can’t bear it.

“I’d try to fuck a baby into you,” he continues, building the twin flames of horror and hunger. “Because I can’t think of anything hotter than you pregnant with my child, showing the whole world what I do to you behind closed doors. That I make you spread your legs and beg me to come in you bare because that’s how you need it. How you need my cock. You need just you and me and nothing between us.”

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