AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Recognition fogs my vision.
Oh, Jesus. That’s Juliet’s mother.
Boyd’s mouth moves furiously as he stops at the edge of the parking lot. I call out after him, guilt pressing down into my skull like being buried in an avalanche.
Just as I reach him, he freezes, and I turn my comms unit back on as Kieran asks if we recognized the woman.
“No, I didn’t stick around long enough. Didn’t want her to recognize me in case she can make a connection.” Boyd sends me a sidelong glance, his mouth pressed into a firm line, and I reach forward, yanking the unit from his ear and tossing mine to the ground, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
“I saw her,” I say into Boyd’s piece, my breathing staggered from running to get here. “That’s their mom. Lynn Harrison, or something? Don’t you remember she fled town right after all that stuff with the senator went down?”
Boyd’s eyes widen, a flurry of activity happening as he pulls his phone from his pocket and dials a number, barking orders that don’t make any sense to me, because I’m still not totally filled in on what we’re even doing here. I just know I was on lookout duty, but I don’t know why.
I had to beg Kieran to even let me do that.
Waiting by a random car for Boyd to finish up, he hooks his phone back into his suit pocket and walks over to me, snatching the comms unit from my ear, wrapping his hand around my wrist again, and pulling me into his hard body.
“Come with me, right fucking now,” he breathes, chest heaving beneath the soft material of his shirt.
He doesn’t wait for me to answer, just starts dragging me toward the side of the church, far from the crowd. I think he’s about to take me to confession when he passes the side doors, heading for a little storage building at the edge of the property.
It’s white and looks deserted, but he kicks the door in anyway, the sudden onslaught of violence sending a shiver down my spine.
Shoving me inside before I have a chance to protest, he slams the door closed, shrouding us in stuffy darkness. I trip over something and my body buckles, my nails scraping against nothing as I fall.
Boyd catches me around the waist and stands me up straight, pushing me into the wall, wrapping his hand around my mouth as if he thinks I might scream.
I relax into his hold, my words from earlier not even on my radar as I sink into the feeling of him against me. His erection digs into my back, long and thick, and I have a hard time catching my breath as he shifts his hips, grinding into me.
“What did I fucking tell you about public tantrums?” he rasps against my ear, his free hand gliding down my body; he squeezes my left breast through the thin material of my dress, pinching the nipple as it beads perfectly for him, then ghosts over my stomach, making the muscles ripple beneath his touch.
Mumbling against his hand, I try to answer, but it’s clear he doesn’t want me to. My heart races inside my chest, beating on my rib cage as it tries to escape, and my throat is thick with arousal, even though I know all of this is wrong.
His anger is being redirected instead of dealt with, and while it might be a good cooldown method, I know too well that everything just comes right back when the high of the orgasm wears off.
But I don’t stop him.
Don’t fucking want to.
When his fingertips skim the hem of my dress, hefting it up over my butt cheeks, I bite my tongue and shift backward, pressing more fully into him. He gulps, hand shaking as it comes back around and dips between my legs, breath hot against the side of my neck.
“I said there’d be no more public outbursts,” he growls. “Said you were to come to me when you needed a violent release. You know what happens when princesses disobey?”
I shake my head, even though his grip around my mouth leaves little room for the movement.
His fingers delve between my folds, the sound of my arousal embarrassingly loud as he strokes and swirls, making my legs tremble.
Pulling out of my panties quickly, he spins me around, not bothering to fix where my dress is hiked up, and places his hands on my shoulders, pressing down. I drop to my knees with a hard thud against the dirty floor and hear the distinct sound of a zipper releasing.
“Their crowns get revoked.”
My mouth waters, desperate for the taste I know is coming, my stomach wrought with butterflies in spite of itself. I’m nervous, but for a completely different reason, and the combination of anxiety and desire is a potent one, making me abandon my morals and thoughts of letting him go.
If I can’t keep him, I at least want this.
