Page 111 of Filthy Royal

Fuck him.

Scarlett’s words gutted him anew.

It was bullshit.

She’d drugged him, betrayed him, gotten his friend killed, joined herself to someone else, stolen money, and plotted with his family’s worst enemy.

Where the hells was the care in that?

But her confession, combined with the heady scent and sound of her and the beauty of witnessing her swollen, wet, and arching into his touch, was seared into his brain, and he could not shake it loose.

Every cell in his body screamed at him to turn around. Drag her to her hands and knees. Give her what they both wanted. Slide his dick into that sweet pussy after waiting for so long. Rut and knot her until they both came—then do it all over again.

Fuck. Him.

This was not the taming chain’s intended objective. It was meant to break her, not enslave him.

Yet here he was, one heartbeat away from losing their battle of wills, while she’d managed to elude all his critical questions.

No one did that to the Enforcer.

Since his major screwup at the Golden Dome, he’d made it a priority to stay on guard, to avoid additional fuck ups, and to always deliver what his family needed—through whatever means necessary. He hadn’t exactly been happy, but he’d been effective. Fueled by anger and rage, he’d used his fists to give as good as he got. Striking out before the universe struck back at him again.

Except… he couldn’t do that with Scarlett.

He’d pretended he could.

But the truth was, he… just… couldn’t.

Still, she didn’t know that. And the fact that she’d resisted in the face of his hardest play yet shocked him.

Grown males like Prince Jai blubbered and broke within moments of being in his presence.

But not Scarlett.

He didn’t remember her being this strong.

She’d always been a survivor, but somewhere along the way, she’d become a fighter too.

On one level, it worried him, sending wariness coiling through his gut. Because character shifts such as that didn’t happen unless there was a damned good reason, and Damien had no idea what had prompted this evolution in Scarlett.

On the other hand, it frustrated the fuck out of him because not only was this new scrapper stubbornness impeding his mission, but it was also maddeningly, all-consumingly sexy as fuck.

As was everything about Scarlett.

Always had been. Always would be.

On a low curse, Damien knocked his head against the door.

Then, leaning back, he undid his laces and gave in.

He’d never get the intel he needed in his current state.

He was too worked up to do what needed to be done. Too keyed up from having her on her hands and knees, wet and needy, all silky skin and soft curves, to be any kind of interrogator.

Too close to breaking.

All he wanted was her. All he saw was her.

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