God, I needed to taste him. No one had ever turned me on as much as he did. Every word, every touch, every glance. I wanted it all.
I stared at him with pleading eyes.
Rhys hadn’t finished nodding before I took him in my mouth, savoring his groans and the way he pulled my hair as I eagerly licked and sucked.
“What would your people say if they could see you now, princess?” he grunted, pushing his cock deeper until it hit the back of my throat. I spluttered, my eyes watering from the sheer size of him. “Crawling and choking on your bodyguard’s cock?”
I moaned out an unintelligible response. My hand drifted between my legs, but I didn’t make contact before he yanked me up and captured my mouth in a hard, punishing kiss.
He was still angry about Steffan. I could taste it on his tongue, feel it in the roughness of his hands as he squeezed my ass.
“You’re more than just a bodyguard to me.” I needed him to understand that, even amid our lust-drenched haze.
“Yeah, I can get you off, too,” Rhys said caustically. “Bet none of the lily-livered aristocrats out there can fuck you the way you need.”
I didn’t take the bait. “It’s more than that.”
It was the closest I’d come to voicing what was in my heart.
Something vulnerable flickered in Rhys’s eyes, and his touch gentled for a second before his face hardened again. He spun me around and bent me over the table, pressing his body against mine until every inch of him melded into every inch of me.
He lowered his mouth to my ear and tangled one of his hands with mine. “I want you to know something, princess,” he said, his voice a hoarse rasp against my skin. “There’s not much in the world I want to claim as mine. I’ve seen and done too much shit in my life to believe in forever. But you…” He grasped my chin with his free hand. “You belong to me. I don’t give a fuck what the law or anyone else says. You are mine. Understand?”
“Yes.” I squeezed his hand, my heart and body aching for completely different reasons.
Rhys exhaled a harsh, shuddering breath and pulled back. I was about to protest before he roughly parted my thighs and yanked my underwear down.
The ball of anticipation in my stomach coiled tighter.
“There’s something else you should know.” He dragged two fingers through my wetness before shoving them in my mouth, forcing me to taste my juices. An unbidden moan slipped out at the unfamiliar tang on my tongue. “I don’t like it when other people touch what’s mine. Especially when it’s a date who’s not me.”
I knew I’d been in trouble the minute I said that.
“But maybe you need a lesson to drive that point home.” Rhys rubbed his thumb over my swollen clit before his palm landed where his thumb had been. My body jerked, and a yelp of surprise and pain tore from my throat, but Rhys’s fingers in my mouth muffled the sound.
His palm landed on my pussy again with a loud slap. And again. And again.
I was shaking, my eyes filled with tears as razor-sharp sensation spiked through me. My entire world had narrowed to the pulsing heat between my legs and the man who doled out pain and pleasure in equal measure.
“Who does your pussy belong to?” Rhys removed his fingers from my mouth and squeezed my breast.
“You,” I gasped, clutching the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turned white.
“Say it again.” Hard. Demanding. Authoritative.
“You! My pussy belongs to you.” My voice broke in a sob as he delivered another stinging slap to my clit.
“That’s right. It belongs to me, and don’t you ever forget it.” Slap.
I let out a keening wail, trying to scrabble away and push back harder against him at the same time. I couldn’t tell whether I loved or hated what was happening, only that I was dripping and burning and every scrape of my nipples against the wooden table sent another jolt of heat straight to my throbbing clit.
“Are you going to dance with your date again?” Rhys’s voice sounded remarkably even, if tightly controlled.
I shook my head, the tears sliding down my cheeks.
“Good.” Slap. “You are so wet, princess.” Slap. “You should see how pretty and swollen your clit looks right now. Like it’s begging for me to spank it harder.” SLAP.
It was too much. The words, the brutal, filthy punishment, the fact we were doing this just around the corner and down the hall from my family and friends.
I exploded. Hard. Long. Violent. Ears buzzing, knees buckling, showers of lights bursting behind my eyes. I would’ve fallen to the floor had Rhys not held me up while the strongest orgasm of my life tore through me like an electric storm, and I had to drop my head and bury my face in my arm to stifle my screams.
I was still riding out the waves of my mind-shattering release when I felt Rhys’s tongue gently stroke my clit, licking and soothing until the burn faded.
Just as I gathered myself together, he stood and slowly pushed his cock inside of me. He withdrew equally slowly, until just the tip remained inside, and paused. I inhaled, but my first real breath of the night broke into a squeal when he suddenly slammed into me with a vicious thrust. His fist in my hair kept me in place as he bottomed out with each downward stroke, and the contrast between the gentleness of his entry and the savage fury with which he now fucked me scrambled my senses to the point where I could only hold on to the table for dear life.
In and out. Harder and faster each time until the tingles at the base of my spine came back to life, and I crashed over the edge again.
“Oh, God, Rhys.”
“That’s it, princess.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, his movements growing jerkier. He was about to come, too. “Such a good girl. Come for me.”
I did, endlessly and unashamedly, breaking into a million pieces around him.
And as Rhys, too, came with a loud groan, I wondered if he knew he owned every one of those pieces—not just of my body, but also my heart.
37
Bridget
Rhys and I never made it back to the reception. By the time he finished with me, there was no way I could’ve fixed myself up enough to face other people, so we slipped out a side door and snuck back to the palace. By some miracle, no one saw us.
It was horrible form for a bridesmaid to leave early without a word, but the party had already been winding down by the time we excused ourselves, and most people had been too drunk to notice my absence, anyway.
I did, however, feel awful about leaving Steffan high and dry. I called him the next morning and apologized profusely, claiming my friend’s emergency took longer than expected. He was, as expected, gracious about it. He hadn’t been as jumpy during the reception as he’d been at the hotel, but he’d been distracted, and I suspected he might’ve been relieved by my abrupt departure.
“Where did you go?” Mikaela asked after I wrapped up my call. We were in my room, brainstorming ways to get Erhall to bring the repeal motion for the Royal Marriages Law to the floor. “You disappeared halfway through the reception.”
“One of my college friends called with an emergency.” I avoided her gaze as I studied Erhall’s parliamentary voting record.
“Really?” She sounded doubtful. “Even though you’re in different countries?”