Tempting the Crown(29)

“Ohh, Damon.”

I felt like I was being taken. Claimed. And I loved every second of it. Every stroke he delivered. My body had yearned for something like this. Thirsted to be worshipped. He kissed my calf as he fucked harder and with more speed.

“Fucking come on my cock, baby.”

I groaned with pleasure. The ecstasy was overwhelming. My core was where the epicenter began. It was tightening and twisting with tingly pulses.

My hips tilted up with every pump of his glorious cock. Damon slid one hand from my ankle along my leg, coasting along my thigh and rounding over my ass. He pressed against the tiny ring of muscles on my backside. I zinged with a new wave of pleasure and pressure.

Oh shit. Was he? Was he going to go there?

I moaned, reveling in just how good it felt with the added pressure. His thumb breached my rosebud again. The sudden jolt of pain turned to pleasure as he eased out and in again.

He bit his lips. “Fuck, I’m going to come hard.”

I was there with him. Fighting to hold on to my orgasm, but it was pointless. I couldn’t resist how it felt to have him fill my pussy so fully while he stretched my forbidden zone. It was something I never knew before. I convulsed around him wildly.

One.

Two.

Three.

He pumped inside me. “Fuck, Molly.” His voice echoed in the room before his release hit him. Damon collapsed on top of me. Our bodies pulsing with violent aftershocks.

I gasped for air.

“Fuck, love.” Damon rolled next to me. His hands slapped against his chest. “I swear, I would rather have spent the last two days with you than that boring ass of a prime minister.”

I laughed. “I believe you. I do.” I was completely convinced.

He reached for my waist, pulling me on top of him.

I looked into his sexy as sin eyes.

“I hope you understand now, what it means to be summoned by the king.” He breathed heavily.

“I think I’m starting to get it, Your Majesty,” I teased.







When I awoke, it was still dark. The covers next to me were flat. I patted them with my eyes closed, searching for Damon under the sheets.

I sat forward. He wasn’t in the bed. Or in the bathroom. I pulled one of his T-shirts over my head and walked into the apartment.

I found him in the study. A banker’s light illuminated a small sphere on his desk. He was working in a pair of pajama pants.

“Is this normal?” I asked, walking toward him. “Do kings work all hours of the night?”

He frowned. “This one does.”

I recognized the look on his face. It was the same one I wore when I was buried in research.

“Is there a problem?” I sat on the edge of the desk.

He looked up. “Nothing for you to worry about. I’ll come back to bed soon.”

“It must be a big deal if you’re working this late. Or is it early?” I had no idea what time it was. “Maybe I can help,” I offered.

He sat back in the chair. I could see the ridges of his abs. He folded his arms, his biceps bulged. He was unbelievable.

“All right. Maybe you can come up with an idea to pass funding for my irrigation program.”

I blinked. Was he serious? He was asking for my opinion on an official Galona matter. “Ok, what kind of irrigation?”

“Olive groves,” he explained. “Spain is our top competitor. I know we could double our production with irrigation in these areas.” He pointed to locations on the map of rural areas of the country. “But half of my cabinet disagrees with allocating more funds to the groves. I need a majority for approval.”

He looked at me, waiting for a suggestion.

“Well, why don’t they want to fund it?” I needed more information.

“They’d rather push the money into other areas. They don’t see the need to support the groves like I do.”

“Hmm.” I twisted my lips together. “But the other half does support it?”

“Yes. I’ve managed to convince half.” He exhaled. “The other bastards are stuck in the past. They don’t want agricultural upgrades. They claim we’ve never had them before, so why start now?”

“That seems short-sighted.”

“It is.”

“What do the farmers say?” I questioned.

“What do you mean?”

I tugged on the hem on the T-shirt. There was no way it would come close to covering my thighs.

“Well, have they spoken to your cabinet? Have they argued in an open hearing?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “No.”

“Maybe try that?” I shrugged. I wasn’t a political analyst, and I didn’t pretend to be.

He chuckled. “You make it sound so simple, Molly.”

“Maybe it is.” I smiled. “If you can’t bring the farmers here, why not at least bring their stories to the cabinet?”