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Lone Prince

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A WICKED SMILE PULLS the corners of Wolfe’s lips as his hands slide over my hips. His fingers are hungry as they sink into my body, tugging me against his broad frame. “We’re alone,” he growls, the sounds reverberating through my chest.
“You’re unbelievable,” I huff, glancing over my shoulder. I’ll never get used to state dinners, not in huge, ornate manors like this one. And definitely not when Wolfe pulls me into empty rooms with sin dancing in his eyes.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Glad to see your ego is still nice and healthy.”
“Rowan,” he whispers, brushing his lips over my ear. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”
I mash my lips together to stop from smiling. He knows me too well. He knows I want this—him. He knows every time he threads his fingers through mine and ducks behind a closed door, he’ll have me undone and panting within minutes.
“That’s what I thought.” His hands slip lower, gripping my ass as he pulls me close. “We should be quick, but you know I want to take my time. That dress of yours is doing something to me.”
“What, this old thing?” My smile widens as I shimmy my shoulders, glancing down at the beautiful, deep purple chiffon gown. I never thought I’d get used to the gowns, the clothing, the jewels—and three years after our wedding, I can’t say I’m completely comfortable in them, although I do enjoy the way Wolfe’s eyes darken when he sees me.
Grasping my wrists, he backs me against the wall and pins them above my head. “You love this as much as I do.” It’s not a question. He knows I do. Wolfe’s lips trail down my neck, his teeth brushing the sensitive flesh between my throat and my shoulder. A shiver of desire tumbles down my spine and my hips buck despite myself.
“They’ll be wondering where we are.”
“Let them wonder. Let them imagine all the dirty things I’m doing to you.”
“Wolfe…” I meant for his name to sound like a warning, but it came out more like a plea. With my hands above my head, my husband lets his lips drift over my shoulder, my neck, my jaw. Heat knots in my stomach as he lets out a feral, low growl. My eyelids flutter closed, heart thumping in my chest.
Shifting, Wolfe presses his body against me and holds both wrists in one of his large hands. His other hand drifts down my cheek, thumb running over my lip.
“You’ll smudge my lipstick.” I’m breathless, body winding tighter.
Wolfe’s eyes darken. “Good.”
That one word sends lava spilling through my veins. His hand drifts down my chin and over my chest, teasing my breast so gently I barely feel the brush of his fingertips. My body trembles, pulse hammering. Back arching, a moan slips through my lips.
“I love you like this,” Wolfe says slowly, letting his hand drop down between my legs. The chiffon bunches as he cups his hand between my legs. “Moaning. Trembling. Wanting.”
The heat of his hand does something to me. My stomach clenches hard, heat unfurling in tight pulses low in my stomach. I grind against his hand as Wolfe’s breath coasts over my shoulder. He drops his lips to my neck, scraping his teeth gently, so gently. His hand presses harder and I can’t help myself. With layers of chiffon and underwear between us, I buck my hips against his touch.
“Are you wet for me, princess?”
My head is spinning. Beyond that closed door, just across the hall, a long table is set with fine dinnerware. A visiting emissary from Farcliff is here, along with a dozen other guests. They’re having the first course, probably. Our two empty chairs must be a blaring signal of everything we’re doing.
But Wolfe doesn’t care. He tugs at my dress, still pinning me against the wall. Finding its hem, he slides his hand between my thighs and groans when he feels the heat gathered there. His palm presses against my sensitive bud as a gasp slips through my lips. I’ll never tire of his touch. The tips of his fingers brush the crook between my leg and my center. Gently. Torturously. Everything is far, far too sensitive.
I can feel every inch of him against me. His hand on my wrists. His chest against mine. Powerful legs caging me against the wall as I quiver with need. Lips finding mine, Wolfe groans against my kiss. His palm rubs me through my underwear and I’m almost embarrassed at how tight he winds me. I haven’t even felt him against my skin. Haven’t even had him inside me, and I’m ready to come apart.
We should be sitting at a dinner table having polite conversation. We should be doing our best to welcome the visiting nobles, knowing they could agree to expand the architecture scholarships to universities in Farcliff. We should be doing our duty, but Wolfe pulled me into this room before I could protest.
And why would I protest? Before Wolfe, there was nothing but work. Nothing but architecture. And it wasn’t enough.
My life before Wolfe wasn’t enough to make me feel sated and happy. Not enough to have a smile on my lips when I wake up in the morning. Not enough to make me feel whole.
Somehow, still, Wolfe knows what I need. While his kiss is gentle, his hand is rough. He tugs my panties to the side and groans when he feels my wetness. “I knew you wanted this.”
“Of course I want this,” I snap. I glance at the door. We really should get back. We’re hosting these visitors. We should be there. It’s my scholarship they want to expand to new countries. “But—”
His fingers sink deep inside me and it takes all my self-control to stifle a cry. Sensing how close I am to losing control, Wolfe drops his hand from my wrist and covers my mouth with it, wicked light gleaming in his eyes. Mouth parted, he watches my eyes as his hand works magic between my legs. His hand muffles my moans, which start to sound a lot like grunts. Feral, animalistic noises that come from some primal place inside me.
My hips buck, back arching, body moving of its own will. His fingers are deep inside me, palm pressing just hard enough against that bundle of nerves to make me see stars. All the while knowing that not ten feet away, the dinner party awaits.
It’s enough to drive me mad.
“You love this, Rowan. You can’t lie to me.” Wolfe’s teeth gleam in the low light of the room as he smirks.
I can’t answer. His hand still covers my mouth, and all my strength is occupied holding myself upright. I cling onto his broad shoulders, nails sinking into his freshly pressed shirt. I’ll wrinkle it. Everyone will know.
And… And I don’t care.
Release hits me hard, his hand doing nothing to silence my cry. I cling onto my husband, hips bucking, giving him the orgasm he demanded from me. But when I lift my eyes to meet his, I know he’s not done. He drops the hand from my mouth and tugs me close, his other fingers still deep inside me.
His lips taste like danger, and I’ll never get enough of them. I writhe in his arms as he gently skates his thumb over my bud, once, twice—and another orgasm crashes into me without warning.
Wolfe lets out a low growl, the sound sending tremors rushing through my veins. Everything is hot, flushed. My mind is reeling with the pleasure of it all. The wrongness of doing it here. The rightness of his touch.
I hear the jingling of his belt as my eyes clear, a smile tugging at my lips. “You’re so bad, Wolfe.”
“Why else did you marry me?” Lifting a leg over his hip, he pins me against the wall and in one, swift, strong movement—enters me. My head knocks against the plaster behind it as Wolfe thrusts himself inside me. Deep. Filled.
I’d answer his question if my tongue worked. I’d tell him I married him for a thousand different reasons. I married him because my love for him is endless. Because he makes me feel whole. Because he showed me another way to live, and he gave me two beautiful sons, the second arriving eighteen months after Wren. Because he kisses my C-section scar every chance he gets and worships the stretch marks on my stomach.
But this—yes, I married him for this, too. To be fucked against a wall and made to feel alive. To have him inside me, against me, on top of me. To feel so completely his.
Rough hands slide to my breasts and tug my dress down. The cool air is so sensitive against my heated skin. Wolfe’s thumb teases my pebbled nipple as his lips leave trails of kisses down my neck. He pistons in and out of me, grunting, neither of us caring about the noises we’re making.
Tangling my fingers into his silky strands, I pull his head back up to mine. My kiss is hungry. Needy. I scrape my teeth across his bottom lip as he fills me up, rumpling my dress and my hair and my makeup.
“I love you so fucking much,” Wolfe says against my lips, his fiery golden eyes flashing.
“Language,” I say instinctively, and he answers me with a hard thrust. “Fuck,” I pant.
A low chuckle is the only response I get as his movements grow frantic. His hands are everywhere. My lips kiss everything they find. Hair, earlobe, neck, lips.
Then—release. Heat flooding through my stomach, exploding through my body. His strained grunts, body tense against mine. The tightening of…everything…inside me. My core, my breasts, my throat, my back. I arch against him, taking him just a bit deeper as my orgasm splits my world in two then stitches it back together again.
Then we collapse. My leg falls from his hip as he slips out of me, hands clawing at the wall behind me for some semblance of stability. My chest heaves, breasts still exposed, pushed up by the bunched fabric beneath them.
Wolfe grins at me, big, bad Wolfe. His hand slides up my side and tugs my dress in place again, covering my breasts as he struggles to catch his breath. “You’re incredible.”
I blush, then marvel at the fact that those words, out of everything, are what brought blood to my cheeks.
My husband leans in, kissing my lips, then reaches between my legs to slip my panties back in place. “I like knowing I’m inside you, leaking out of you, while you go out there at sit at the table like the proper lady you are.”
“You have a dirty, dirty mind, Wolfe.”
His smile widens, and a jolt of heat passes through my heart.
“I can’t help that the sight of you in a pretty dress makes me want to put another baby inside you.”
“Is that what this is about?” I laugh, shaking my head. “There are better ways of bringing up the fact that you want a third.”
Wolfe catches my arms, curling them over his own shoulders before wrapping his arms around my waist. He nuzzles my neck, chest rumbling. “What if I did want a third?”
My heart does a backflip as I rest my cheek against his chest. “Two sons aren’t enough for you?”
“I want a daughter. A baby Rowan with bright, coppery hair like her mother.”
“I can’t promise that.” I smile, resting against his strong chest, swaying softly in the silent room.
Wolfe holds me tight, all the naughtiness gone from his touch. He’s tender now. Gentle. His fingers sweep up my spine, drifting over my shoulders and back down my arm. Goose bumps prickle, and I smile against his chest.
After a while, he speaks in a low voice. “We can try,” he says softly. “Try for a third and see what happens.”
“We really should go to dinner.” I pull away, looking at Wolfe’s unique eyes, smile widening on my face. “I’ll talk to the doctor about removing my IUD. I…I’ve been thinking about another baby, too.”
Wolfe rests his forehead against mine, a smile gracing those full lips. He cups my cheeks and a delicious warmth wraps itself around my chest. When Wolfe speaks, his voice is nothing but a low rasp. “I am so in love with you, Rowan. With or without a third child. You make my life worth living.”
“And boring state dinners a bit more fun.”
“A lot more fun,” he corrects, grinning. Then, with a soft brush of his lips against mine, we straighten ourselves up and head across the hall to dinner.

Queen Penelope meets a childhood friend turned enemy…or lover?

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