The Dare Collection September 2018. Stefanie London

      I’m surprised. I never expected to see this notorious playboy seem uncertain.

      “Here’s the deal,” he says. “I don’t know what’s happening here. But since I saw you in that alley, it’s as if I’ve left the real world and entered some kind of dream.” He crawls over me, tangling his hands in my hair. “Life suddenly feels brighter. I swear I smell roses and hear snippets of music. What the fuck are you doing to me, Princess?”

      “This.” I wrap my legs around his trim hips, and he presses right at the center of me, positioning himself at my wet, but tight, entrance.

      “You’re sure you want this?” He searches my face, and I do the same with him.

      I know what he’s really asking. Do you want me?

      And god forgive me, I do. I really, really do.

      He is so beautiful, scars and all. “I wanted you before I knew you. After all, you’re very handsome,” I admit shyly. “But now after meeting you... Damien. I need you. I need you to be the one.”

      He presses his forehead to mine, and as he gives me a deep, lush kiss, a shudder rocks him. “I don’t know what the hell I’ve done in my shitty life to deserve you, but whatever it is, I’m grateful.”

      I laugh softly. “You promise you won’t go for the, you know, back door?”

      The corner of his mouth quirks into a roguish grin. “I am a man with sexual urges. I make no apologies for that,” he says. “But I’ve only been inside one other pussy, and that was a long, long time ago.”

      “I imagine it’s like riding a bike,” I say, fighting for a levity that I do not feel.

      His eyes darken as his tip parts my intimate lips. “Gorgeous, trust me. It’s nothing like riding a bike.”

      And then, slowly, inexorably, he begins to enter me, inch by slow inch.

      “Oh!” I gasp. There’s a sharp bite of pain and then... “Oh.” I moan. “Oh God.”

      He starts slow and gentle, sliding in to the root and then out again with such care it makes me ache.

      Ache for him. For more.

      “Christ, Princess,” he says, sinking into me again, and I run my fingers over the taut muscles of his arms, his abdomen. And then I squeeze that perfectly sculpted ass.

      It’s glorious.

      “I didn’t know.” My voice shakes. “I didn’t know what I was giving up. And now that I do—”

      He gives me a searing kiss before I can finish, and it’s a good thing. Because if I spoke what I know now is the truth, I’d damn us both.

       I don’t ever want to give you up.

      I’m being cared for. Revered. Worshipped. Damien slides a hand between my legs and works my sensitive pearl while filling me with every last perfect inch of him.

      Sweat sheens our bellies. I can’t be quiet. I try, but it’s impossible. You might as well ask me to catch a rainbow between my fingertips. I buck and arch, my body moving like a wild thing that cannot—that from here on out will not—be tamed. I’m drenched and swollen with need. My inner thighs soaked with my own arousal, creamy for his granite erection.

      He pulls me up and falls back on his knees, still joined to me and takes my breast into his mouth, sucking at my hardened peak in hot, confident pulls until I cry out, a sound so guttural I wouldn’t know it was human if it hadn’t come from my own lips.

      “Fuck me, Damien,” I whimper, and he raises his head, his eyes meeting mine, his gaze narrowed and intense.

      “Louder,” he orders.

      “Fuck me!” I command, riding up then slamming down over him until he’s filled me to my core.

      He answers me with an animal roar, lifting me off the bed completely and pinning my ass against the wall, his cock still buried inside me, nestled against some hidden bundle of nerves.

      He kisses me hard, and I bite his lip, tasting the coppery tang of blood. His thrusts come hard and fast, each expert stroke coaxing me to buck against him until my vision threatens to go black.

      Then—I explode. I am a million pieces, every nerve so sensitive I fear the slightest touch now will bring me to tears. I’m not sure I’ll ever be whole again.

      I lower my legs to the floor, but Damien still holds me, as if he knows I might fall.

      “Juliet.” He whispers my name in my ear. “That was god damn beautiful.”

      His voice is full of the same wonder that courses through my veins.

      I can tell it is with a groan of regret that he pulls from me, and I feel a flood between my thighs.

      “Shit,” he hisses.

      “What happened?” I dip my head to see milky white liquid running down my legs. “Have I done something wrong?”

      He should be smiling, but his expression is grim. “No, gorgeous. You were perfect. More than perfect. But the condom broke.”

       CHAPTER FOUR

      Damien

      I SHOW A shaken Juliet to the bathroom, and she locks herself in. I press my palms to the door, my head falling against the heavy wood, and I hear the shower start.

      “Fuck. What the hell have I done?”

      I’ve most likely ruined the future queen of Nightgardin. I haven’t set her up for banishment. I’ve put her on the path to execution.

      Somehow I make my way to the edge of the bed where I sit, head in hands. Two women. I’ve only been with two women like this, and I’ve likely now sent both to their graves.

      I hear the click of the bathroom door, but I don’t dare move. How can I look her in the eye?

      “Damien,” she says softly, resting her warm palms on my bare thighs. “Damien, look at me. Please.”

      I lift my head, realizing the emotion that overwhelmed me when I was inside her was not merely from sex. Because at this moment I realize I’d do just about anything for this woman—this stranger whose life is forever changed because of me.

      I expect her cheeks to be tear-soaked, the whites of her eyes to be bloodshot. Instead, I find a crystal-clear gaze coming from a woman I almost don’t recognize.

      “Juliet?” I ask like a fool. Of course it’s her.

      “Everything will be okay,” she says with a sureness that makes my chest ache. Because she could not be more wrong.

      She’s wrapped in a plush white hotel towel, her rich brown locks dripping onto her shoulders.

      “I fucked up,” I say, cradling her cheeks in my hands. “Don’t you see? This is who I am. I ruin anyone and anything I care about.”

      She grins and strokes my hair from my forehead.

      “Are you saying you care about me, Damien Lorentz?” Then she lets the towel fall.

      “What the hell are you doing?” I ask as her gaze falls to my cock, hard as a rock, my body betraying me.

      “I am not fertile,” she says. “At least, not right now. My governess taught me to chart my fertility the day I first bled. Orders from the king and queen. They wanted to be sure that as soon as I turned twenty-one and they handed me off to Nightgardin’s next king that he would plant his heir in me on his first try.” She grabs my cock, squeezes my shaft in her now-expert grip. “Of course I have not tested the method’s effectiveness before tonight.” She bats her long lashes at me.

      My