Princess's Pregnancy Secret

There was no easy. ‘Please,’ she begged, trying to rock her hips beneath him to rouse him into action. ‘Please.’

She needed him to move—to take her hard and fast and break the terrible tension gripping her. Because this was too, too good and she was going insane with the desire for release.

‘Damn it, Eleni.’ He growled and rose on his hands, grinding impossibly deeper.

Passion washed over her. It felt so good she all but lost her mind in the fire that burned out of control so quickly. She was like dry tinder. With one spark the inferno licked to the bone. But suddenly, blessedly, he flared too. Ferociously he rode her. She moaned with every panting short breath until they bucked in unison. Waves of ecstasy radiated through each cell in her body with every one of his forceful thrusts. Fierce and fast she arched, taut and tight around him.

‘Eleni.’

She loved the way he ground her name through his clenched teeth. Over and over he stroked her. She clenched her fists as the shuddering rush of pleasure started. Gasping for breath, she revelled in the floods of release as he shouted and thrust hard that one last time, pressing her flat against the wooden floor.

Her emotions surged as the waves of her orgasm ebbed. It was shocking how good he made her feel. How shattered. She didn’t think she could possibly find the energy to stand, let alone smile. And she wanted to smile. More than that, she wanted him again. Already. She struggled to catch her breath before it quickened, but there was no reining in the rapacious desire that he’d unleashed within her. Only then she felt him moving—away.

* * *

Damon winced. Every muscle felt feeble. He’d meant to go more gently and ensure she was with him every step of the way. Hell, he’d meant to make her come first and more than once. But she’d provoked him, and he’d wanted her too much, until he’d taken her like this on the floor—unstoppable and unrestrained and so damn quick all over again.

He rolled onto his side to see more of her lithe, passion-slick, sated body. And this time she turned her head to look back at him. Letting him see her. Her green-blue eyes were luminous. His mouth dried as he read the craving within them. For all his teasing, he understood how much she wanted this. As much as he did. Something shifted inside—a warning that this was far too intense. But it was too late.

If he was any kind of a good guy he’d have wed her and then left her right alone, because, as he’d told her, sleeping together again would lead to complication and she was so inexperienced he didn’t want to mess with her emotions. But he wasn’t a good guy.

Not a prince, remember?

Fortunately he’d recovered from the whim to carry her into the apartment. That action had turned her soft skin pink, so he’d had to remind her of the reality of their situation. His words had snuffed the starry-eyed look from her face. Now all that remained was the flush of raw desire. Because that was all this was. Romance wasn’t real. Love didn’t last.

So, better him to be doing this with her than some other jerk, right? At least he was the one she wanted.

He was determined to please her. The sound of her sighs and the fierce heat of her hold were his ultimate reward. The intensity of their chemistry both angered and enthralled him. Now his exhausted body roared with renewed energy. He scooped her into his arms and stood. He’d ached to have her this close. To have her unable to say no to him, wanting and welcoming him—and only him.

He walked through the ornate lounge room, going on instinct to find her bedroom—a surprisingly simply decorated room. He was just so glad to see the bed. He placed her in the centre of it, gritting back the primal growl of victory. His skin tightened as his muscles bunched. Now they’d solved the problem of their immediate future, they could thrash this attraction that burned between them. An understanding of pleasure was the one thing he could give her. The enjoyment of what their bodies were built for, with no shame, no reticence and no regret. Just passion and play.

Satisfaction oozed as he started to tease that wild response from her again. He loved finally having her on the bed with all the time in the world to explore her properly. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes gleamed—dazed, passionate, willing.

He’d had her. He’d have her again. But something ached—something that was missing despite the almost intolerable ecstasy of the last orgasm they’d shared.

‘Eleni.’ He uttered a plea he hadn’t meant to let free.

He’d coerced her into this marriage, but while she’d finally agreed—and accepted that it was only a contract—somehow he wasn’t appeased. Not yet. Not even when he made her writhe uncontrollably. Not when she moaned again or when her hands sought to hurry him. Because he refused to be hurried. Not this time. He was slow and deliberate and determined to touch and taste and tease every last inch of her. But even when he’d done that, the nagging gap still irked.

Finally he allowed himself to invade her body with his own again. Helplessly groaning at the unbearable bliss, he locked into place. The driving need to get closer consumed him. He craved her heated softness and tight strength.

‘Eleni.’ He strained to stay in control.

‘Yes.’ Her sweet answer rasped over his desire-whipped skin and he drove deeper into her fire. Every muscle tensed as he fought the urge to give in already.

Too soon. It was too soon.

‘Damon.’ She tracked teasing fingers down his chest until he caught her hand and held it close and she whispered again. Sheer lust vocalised. ‘Damon.’

His heart pounded. That was what he wanted. His name on her lips. Her eyes on his. Her body drinking his in. Her whole focus only on him. She arched, willing and sultry, and suddenly her enchanting smile was broken by her release.

‘Damon!’

His name. Screamed.

A torrent of triumphant energy sluiced through every cell as the last vestige of his self-control snapped. He could no longer hold back, growling his passion as he furiously pounded his way closer. To her. To bliss. His world blackened as rapture hit and satisfaction thundered.

He had won.

CHAPTER TEN

DAMON QUIETLY PACED about the lounge in Eleni’s apartment within the palace. His bags had been delivered before the ceremony yesterday and he drew out his tablet now.

The number of emails in his inbox was insane even for him and it wasn’t yet eight in the morning. He clicked the first few open and grimaced at the capital letters screaming CONGRATULATIONS! at him.

Rattled, he flicked on the television, muting the volume so he couldn’t hear the over-excited, high-pitched squeals of the presenters as they gushed about the surprise nuptials of Princess Eleni. A ticker ran along the bottom of the screen repeating the amazing news that she’d married a commoner—one Mr Damon Gale.

The piece they then played was about him. His business interests got a brief mention while his personal ones were explored in depth and all but invented. They focused on his upbringing, his family, his illegitimate half-sister...

He winced when he saw the media crews camped outside Kassie’s small apartment in the village. But the horror show worsened in a heartbeat as his father flashed on the screen. Damon automatically iced his emotions—the response had taken him years to perfect. But the sensation of impending doom increased and he flicked on the audio to hear his father in action. Apparently John Gale was ‘thrilled’ that Eleni and his son Damon’s relationship was finally public. His father didn’t use her title as he talked, implying intimacy—as if he’d ever met her? But he wasn’t afraid of using anyone to push himself further up the slippery pole of success; Damon knew that all too well.

He could hear his father’s avaricious glee at the coup his son had scored.

‘You must be very proud of Damon,’ one reporter yelled.

His father visibly puffed up. ‘Damon is brilliant. He inherited his mother’s brains.’

* * *

Damon gritted his teeth. His father’s false praise poked a wound that s

hould have long healed. His parents were anything but normal. Narcissistic and concerned only with image, neither had hearts. Truth be told, nor did he. That was his genetic inheritance. No capacity for love. No capacity for shame. All his parents had was ambition. He had that too.

But he’d learned to define his own success. To make it alone, be the one in control, be the boss. His parents had been uninterested and absent at best, and abusive at worst, and they’d taught him well. Yeah, now he had the burning ambition not to need them or anyone.

‘What about your daughter, Kasiani?’ Another reporter jostled to the front. ‘Is she also a friend of Princess Eleni’s?’

His father didn’t bat an eyelid at the mention of the daughter he hadn’t seen in years and the reference to the women that he’d abandoned entirely—not just emotionally, but financially as well. Damon had actually been jealous of Kassie until he’d learned his father was truly fickle and incapable of any kind of decent emotion.

‘I really can’t comment further on Eleni’s personal relationships.’ He didn’t need to comment further when the smug satisfaction was written all over his face.

Damon watched as his father walked past the reporter. But as the cameraman swung the camera to keep filming, Damon realised just where the interview had taken place—outside the terminal at Palisades airport.

Which meant his father was here. Now.

Damon muted the sound on the screen and strode from Eleni’s private apartment. He needed to speak to the palace secretary immediately.

‘Mr Gale.’

Damon stopped mid-stride down the hallway as Giorgos’s private secretary called to him.

‘It’s your father,’ the secretary added.

‘Please take me to him,’ Damon said quietly.

John Gale had been shown to one of the smaller meeting rooms very near the entrance of the palace. Damon’s appreciation of Giorgos’s secretary increased and he nodded at the man as he stood back respectfully.

Drawing in a breath, Damon closed the door and faced the father he hadn’t seen in five years. Not much had changed. Perhaps he had a little more grey in his hair, a few lines around his eyes, but he still wore that surface-only smile, neat suit and non-stick demeanour.