Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
With a curt nod, he says, “Thank you. I wish you good night.”
“Good night,” I reply and watch as the king leaves my room—noting two agents in the hall ready to escort him—and noting further that Dmitri doesn’t move.
I arch an eyebrow.
“I know about you and the princess,” he says flatly.
I don’t say a word.
“Apparently, one of the agents caught you on the drone kissing her in Wyoming,” he continues, pausing to see if I’ll admit anything.
I don’t. I’m also glad it wasn’t Paul who ratted me out. But I expected this might happen.
Dmitri sighs, and for the first time, I notice that he actually looks stressed. He’s taking these threats as seriously as I am, and it’s weighing on him.
So I cut him a little slack. “Nothing will happen to her, I promise.”
I get a curt nod in reply. “I was going to move you to a room next to hers. I assume I don’t have to do that now.”
“No,” I admit. “I’ll be in her room all night.”
Another long sigh and he heads for the door.
“Does the king know?” I ask.
Dmitri glances back at me. “No. And it’s a good thing too. Rumor has it there’s a secret dungeon under the throne room—with a guillotine.”
“Funny guy,” I mutter.
“Who said I’m joking?” Dmitri replies with a flash of evil in his eyes, and then he’s gone.
As soon as the door closes, there’s another knock and I open it. It’s a waiter with my meal, complete with silver dome over whatever sandwich they sent up. I’m happy to see the opened bottle of beer with a frosted pilsner glass beside it.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I nod toward the dining table. “You can set it over there.”
While the waiter makes a production of laying out linen napkins, silverware, and a set of crystal salt and pepper shakers, I think about the extra time I’ll be spending with Camille, and I know it’s only going to make it harder to leave in the end.
CHAPTER 20
Camille
Tremors rocket through my body. I’m on my hands and knees, in the middle of my bed, turned perpendicular to its length. Jackson is behind me, one hand on my hip, the other one woven through my hair where he’s gripping it tight so I’m forced to hold up my head.
It’s forcing me to look into the dressing mirror that sits in the corner of my room that I’ve never before used to look at myself. It’s always just been a piece of decorative furniture since I have a dressing mirror in my actual dressing room.
But tonight, Jackson thought it would be a good idea—and at this moment, I don’t disagree—to take me from behind and make me watch.
At first, I couldn’t.
When he ordered me to watch us in the mirror, it was too overwhelming to see him driving into me and the emotions washing over his face. The way his arms flexed and his neck muscles strained as he worked me hard. Hearing his sounds and watching as they matched the pleasure on his face, it was just too much.
I dropped my head, squeezed my eyes shut, and threw myself backward onto him to increase the force.
“No, no, no,” Jackson chided softly, and that’s when he took me by the hair. His demand was simple. “Watch.”
I obeyed, and within just a few seconds of my eyes connecting to our reflection, my orgasm furled inward before pulsing out in torrential waves of pleasure that had me crying out. And now I’m watching with bleary eyes as he continues to drive into me.
Jackson laughs darkly. “I bet everyone in the palace heard that.”
He continues to pump his hips hard, and I can tell by the staccato vibration in his voice he’s getting close. And I find it fascinating that he doesn’t seem to care that I might have been heard.
Not sure I care either. That orgasm was worth the doors being knocked down by all the agents in the palace.
“Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again,” Jackson says gruffly as he abruptly pulls out of me and leans over the side of the bed. Before I can voice my displeasure at the loss of him inside me, he’s back on the bed with his hands on my jaw, forcing my mouth open. I think he means to kiss me, as he often does when his hand works my jaw like that, but instead he shoves in my panties that he pulled off me not long ago, stifling a muffled sound of surprise. He grins and kisses me on the cheek. “That should keep you quiet.”
I’m reeling at how unbelievably domineering and sexy that was, as well as downright playful. He moves his big body behind me again, and I watch in the mirror as he lines up and drives back in deeply.