The Prince With No Heart (13 page)

She moaned, because he’d burrowed straight into the wetness between her folds and was making soft rooting sounds. Violet didn’t think she’d ever felt anything so wicked as him sucking their mingled tastes off of her. His tongue probed deep, hands gripping her thighs to keep her open, controlling her as she arched. When he pulled her engorged clitoris into his mouth, when he rolled it against his tongue and pressed the slightest edge of his teeth to it, she came in a long spasm.

His laugh vibrated into her pussy right before he sat up. She hadn’t heard him laugh like that before, so easily and open.

“You think that’s funny?” she panted. “That you can make me come so quickly?”

His eyes were dancing, but his breath caught in the middle of his next chuckle. She was bending toward him, and he guessed what she meant to do.

Or at least part of it.

“Do it,” he urged, backside resting on his heels. “Suck your taste off me.”

Nothing loath, she took the silky head of him in her mouth. She could tell he liked that. As she sank, he jerked his knees wider. His hands came up to her head, gentle but tense as he guided her. She could tell he was fighting not to shove in too hard. The sprawl of his thighs gave her access to his balls, an invitation she was too sensual to refuse.

“Yes,” he hissed as she cupped his sac. “Violet, that feels so good.”

His testicles were tight and hot - no doubt tender from having come so hard. She let her hand baby them. The lightest taps set them swinging, the softest brushes raising thrill bumps along their skin. She stroked the firmness behind them but did not push. Sweetness began to seep from his tip: not seed but tears of new longing.

He gasped as she licked them, pressing more strongly between her lips.

She pulled back, raising one finger to keep him from following. His eyes tracked her motions as she gathered her outspilled hair. The ends formed a tail she dragged slowly across one palm, like a big painter’s brush. Augustin’s powerful thighs quivered.

“You’ll enjoy this,” she said. “It’s like being stroked with feathers.”

He made a little sound in his throat, repeating it as she pulled her gathered hair up his rigid prick. More beads welled from the slit, more goose bumps, more tremors he couldn’t seem to control. She brushed the fan of red to his nipples, tickling the darkened tips. The prince’s hands curled into white-knuckled fists. She sensed she’d pushed him right to the edge.

Because she wanted him to go over, she feathered her hair across his cockhead.

“Fuck,” he hissed between clenched teeth.

Violet leaned in to lick his chin. “I only tease you because I love you so much.”

That snapped through his control. He growled and grabbed her, turning and flinging her so she lay face down. Her heart thumped with excitement as he kneed her legs apart from behind.

Apparently, she’d been teasing a tiger.

“Fuck,” he repeated, shoving one arm underneath her stomach to hitch her pelvis up. “You make me want you worse than ever.”

He seemed bent on proving it. His cock jabbed toward her pussy, missing once before shoving solidly in. Pleasure blinded her as he filled her. She cried out and pushed back at him. Her name tore from him, the frenzy that overtook them just as raw as when he first penetrated her.

“
This
,” he snarled as he humped at her. “This is what I wanted back at the brook. To fuck you. To fuck and fuck my cock in your sweet pussy.”

He was babbling, every slamming thrust both punishment and reward. He slapped one palm to the rattling headboard, his second wrapped tight around her pubis. She loved when he did that, how his big hand swallowed her sex in safety, how he squeezed and massaged her from every side, remembering her no matter how deep his abandon was.

“Please,” she begged, trying to push back harder. “Please make me go over.”

“Oh God.” His cock was swelling, his thrusts so quick he was only pulling out halfway. She arched, canting her hips to put the greatest pressure on the sweet spot beneath his head. He gasped, battering her with the smooth blunt tip. The pummeling felt so good on that tender wall, aching good, swooning good, the angle so perfect she was almost afraid to move. With all her strength, she tightened her sheath on him.

“
Violet
,” her lover moaned.

Then he just screamed for her. His cock let loose a torrent of heat that flooded her deep inside. The sound, the feel, propelled her straight into ecstasy, teaching her the muscles of her pussy were a good deal mightier than she’d known. The orgasm was so forceful it dizzied her. She surrendered and flew, letting her body do what it would. Augustin groaned at the new milking of his shaft.

For just a second, she thought she might have blacked out.

When her senses recovered, Augustin’s entire weight was squashing her to the bed.

He groaned again when she squeaked in protest but rolled off her. Neither of them could speak. They were too busy gasping for air. Violet did find the strength to wriggle around and hug him. With a grunt that could not have been more endearing, he dragged her on top of him. He was wonderfully warm and sweaty, the rise and fall of his chest as soothing as a boat rocking on small waves. Violet didn’t think she could have been this purely relieved even if she’d never been cursed.

“That’s it then,” he slurred sleepily.

Violet lifted her cheek an inch. His eyes were half closed. His expression extremely smug. “That’s it?”

“Yes, you’ve had your merry way with me. Now you must make me an honest man.”

Violet returned her head to his chest and smiled. His hand was tangled possessively in her hair. Beneath her cheek, his supposedly faulty heart was pounding as vital and strong as hers. She harbored none of the doubts he had in himself. Her prince would love her better and truer than any princess was loved before. He’d come to like her people, and assuredly they’d love him. Arnwall would be better for his hand steadying hers. One day, perhaps, both their kingdoms would join. She patted the sturdy beating within his ribs. A soft sigh of happiness trailed from them in unison.

“I meant you have to marry me,” he said, in case she hadn’t figured it out.

Violet laughed silently to herself.

“As you wish, your highness,” she said aloud.

THE END

Emma Holly is the award-winning,
USA Today
bestselling author of more than twenty romantic novels, featuring vampires, demons, fairies and just plain extraordinary ordinary folks. She loves the hot stuff, both to read and to write!

If you’d like to know what else she’s written - with princesses and without - please visit her website at:
http://www.emmaholly.com
. She runs monthly contests and sends out newsletters, often with coupons for new books. To receive them, sign up on the contest page on her site.

If you enjoy your heroes with a little something extra, do try her werewolf cop romance,
Hidden Talents
.
The Assassins' Lover
, the latest entry in her red-hot demon series, is also available.

Thanks so much for reading this book!

Werewolf cop Adam Santini is sworn to protect and serve all the supes in Resurrection, NY - including unsuspecting human Talents who wander in from Outside.

Telekinetic Ari is hot on the trail of a mysterious crime boss who wants to exploit her gift for his own evil ends, a mission that puts her on a collision course with the hottest cop in the RPD. Adam wants Blackwater too, but mostly he wants Ari. She seems to be the mate he’s been yearning for all his life, though getting a former street kid into bed with the Law could be his toughest case to date.

Dusk settled over the city of Resurrection like a blanket of bad news.

That’s me
, Ari thought, flexing her right fist beside her hip.
Bad news with a capital B
.

This wasn’t just whistling in the dark. Ari had been bad news to some people in her life. To her parents. To every teacher she’d had in high school.
You’ll come to no good
, they’d threatened, and she couldn’t swear they’d been wrong. Certainly, she hadn’t turned out to be a blessing to Maxwell or Sarah. Because of her, Max was in the hospital with too many broken bones in his arms to count, and Sarah was God knew where. But at least Ari was trying to change that. At least she was trying to be bad news to people who deserved it.

To her dismay, Resurrection, NY wasn’t what she’d been led to believe when she’d looked it up on the internet.

She stood on the crest of a weedy hill outside the metropolis, her presence hidden by the deeper shadow of a highway overpass. She’d been expecting a down-on-its-luck backwater. Storefronts stuck in the seventies. Maybe a real town square and a civil war battlefield. Instead, she found an actual cityscape. The skyline wasn’t Manhattan tall, more like Kansas City. Few buildings looked brand new, but many were substantial. They formed a grid of streets and parkland whose core had to encompass at least five miles. This was definitely more than a backwater. Resurrection reminded her of city photos from the early decades of the last century, when
skyscraper
meant something exciting. What could have been a twin to the Chrysler Building stuck up from the center of downtown, reigning over its brethren.

Finding the Eunuch among all that was going to take some doing.

You have to find him
, she told her sinking stomach. If she didn’t, she and her very small gang of peeps would be looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives. At twenty-six and thankfully still counting, Ari had endured more than enough hiding. She was stronger now. She’d been
practicing
. Henry Blackwater, aka, the Eunuch, wouldn’t know what hit him.

“Right,” she said sarcastically to herself. She’d be lucky if she got out of here alive.

But faint heart never vanquished fair villain. Ari knew she’d been born the way she was for a reason. Maybe here, maybe soon, she’d find out what that reason was.

No one messed with people who belonged to Adam Santini. Unless, of course, the person messing with the person was also Adam’s relative.

“You. Ate. My. Beignets.” To emphasize his point, Adam’s irate cousin, Tony Lupone, was bashing his brother’s head against the squad room floor.

Since Rick’s skull was made of sterner stuff than the linoleum, he laughed between winces. “What sort of cop -
ow
- eats beignets anyway?”

“Your faggot brother cop, that’s who. Your pink-shirted faggot brother cop who’s whupping your butt right now.”

Amused by their exchange, Adam leaned back against Tony’s cluttered desk. The precinct’s squad room was a semi-bunker in the basement. A mix of ancient file cabinets and desks were balanced by some very revved-up technology. Grimy electrum grates on the windows protected them, more or less, from things that went bump in the night outside. The hodgepodge suited the men who manned it better than most workplaces could. Rough-edged but smart was the werewolf way. At the moment, Tony was so rough-edged his eyes glowed amber in his flushed face. His big brother could have defended himself better than he was, if it weren’t for his rule against hitting his siblings.

“Ow! Lou!” he complained to Adam. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. Aren’t you going to call off this squirt?”

“You’re the one who ate his fancy donuts.”

“All dozen of them!” Tony snarled, his grievance renewed. “I brought them in to share.”

“Shit,” said long-haired Nate Rivera, Adam’s other cousin, once removed. “Now
I
want to whup you.”

Considering even-tempered Nate was growling, Adam judged it time to end the wrestling match. “All right, you two. Enough. Rick, I’m docking your next paycheck for the price of his beignets. Dana, if you’d be so kind, raid the coffee fund and pick up another batch for tomorrow night.”

“None of which
you’re
going to enjoy, Mr. Pig!” Panting from the exertion of trying to give his brother a concussion, Tony rose and pointed angrily down at him. “You can choke on your damned donuts.”

Wisely, Rick remained where he was while his little brother stalked back to the break room, where his heinous crime had been discovered. The dress code for the detectives was casual. Rick’s gray RPD T-shirt was rucked way up his six-pack abs. His concave stomach didn’t betray his gluttony. His fast werewolf metabolism saw to that.

“My head,” Rick moaned, still laughing. “Come on, cuz. Give your beta a hand up.”

Adam sighed and obliged. None of his wolves were small, but Rick was six four and all muscle. Even with supe strength, Adam grunted to haul him up. “Some second you are. You had to know this would cause trouble.”

“I couldn’t help myself. The box smelled so good. Plus, he was totally obnoxious about bringing them in for everyone.”

“So you knew you were stealing food from my mouth?” Nate interjected, not looking up from his paperwork. “Not cool.”

“He’s sucking up. Ever since he came out, he’s been -” Rick snapped his muzzle shut, but it was too late.

“Uh-huh,” Nate said in his dry laid back way. He’d spun around in his squeaky rolling chair to face Rick. “Ever since he came out, your brother stopped being a butch-ass prick. In fact, ever since he came out, he’s been the nicest wolf around here. You don’t like that ’cause you’re used to being everyone’s favorite.”

“Crap.” The way Rick rubbed the back of his neck said he knew he was in the wrong. Being Rick, he couldn’t stay dejected long. A grin flashed across his handsome olive-skinned face. “Can’t I still be everyone’s favorite? Do I have to turn gay too?”

“I don’t know,” Nate said, returning to his work. “So far only gay boys bring us good breakfasts.”

Seeing Rick’s private wince, Adam patted his back and rubbed. Touchy-feely creatures that werewolves were, the contact calmed both of them. He knew Rick was still working on accepting his little brother’s big announcement. Werewolves were some of the most macho supes in Resurrection, a city that had plenty to choose from. Adam knew Rick loved his brother just as much as before. He suspected Rick was mostly worried Tony would end up hurt. Being responsible for policing America’s only supernatural-friendly town made the wolves enough of a target. Turning out to be gay on top of that was as good as taping a target onto your back.