A Royal Heartbreak (The Moretti Werewolf 2)

“Tell me you want me.” Domenico was stunned when she shook her head.

And then her lips parted. I love you, she mouthed instead.

“Fuck.” Domenico pulled his fingers free so he could wet his cock, lining the folds of her flesh and making sure that the head of his c**k rhythmically nudged her clit.

She gasped.

Their eyes met. I love you.

He groaned, desire taking over, his control snapping. He shoved his c**k all the way in, his hands moving under her body to grip her beautiful tight ass and lifting her up so he could enter her more deeply.

Misty gasped, biting her lip to stop herself from crying out his name. She closed her eyes at the beauty of it, at the remembered beauty of it, and she cried because now she knew that this meant the same thing for them both.

She cupped his face, crying. I love you.

His green eyes burning fiercely as he gazed down at her, he mouthed, I love you.

Oh.

Misty’s body shuddered. Never had she imagined he would say the words back this early and without even questioning her after she had just promised to betroth herself to another man. She pulled him back down, loving the familiar heavy press of his weight. She dug her nails into his ass, urging him to move.

Domenico needed no second urging, and she closed her eyes again, biting her lip to keep herself from screaming at the pleasure of Domenico’s fast and furious pounding. More, please, more. And Domenico obliged, his c**k thrusting in and out of her like an unstoppable force.

Domenico felt so thick, so wonderfully hard, and it had been so unbearably long that Misty knew she was moments away from coming. Oh, please, harder, faster, please.

Domenico bent his head down, teeth clamping on her nipple, biting it the same time his fingers pinched her cl*t and his c**k entered her in another earth-shatteringly hard thrust.

Misty’s lips parted in a silent scream as she exploded. Domenico’s h*ps moved faster, coming just a moment later, his own body shuddering on top of her as he pumped his come into her. She shivered, the warmth of his essence filling her. She wrapped her legs more tightly around him, wanting to keep everything of Domenico inside her.

Domenico lifted his head.

She gazed at him, still not speaking.

Resting his weight on one bent arm, he lifted his hand to push wet strands of her hair away. And then he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. I love you. His lips brushing against her cheek told her that, and tears stung her eyes.

Domenico felt her fingers graze his back. They started to move.

T.R.U.S.T.

The fingers paused.

M.E.

His heart clenched. For almost his entire life, he had trusted no one, choosing to depend on himself alone because his father’s childhood betrayal had cut him deeply. But his life had changed when Misty came into it. She had taught him to forgive, to love, and yes to trust.

One large part of him was filled with fear. What if this was all an elaborate plan for Misty to take her revenge on him? It was not an entirely far-fetched idea, considering how much he had hurt her.

But there was also the part of him that wanted her back, at any cost. If risking his pride, his heart --- even his life --- would give Domenico the chance to have her back again, then so be it.

Misty couldn’t help tensing when Domenico pulled away.

Their gazes locked.

Slowly, he nodded. She choked back a sob. He was going to trust her.

~~~

Misty woke up early. For a moment she allowed herself to remember last night’s lovemaking, her body aching in remembered need and her heart nearly bursting as she imagined Domenico, na**d on top of her, his beautiful face rapt in attention with her as he silently told her he loved her.

She closed her eyes.

Domenico Moretti loved him.

This time, she truly believed it.

And this time, she was going to do her best to protect that love.

She opened her eyes, tracing the pillow next to her and which had cradled Domenico’s head when he slept next to her. But Domenico had left in the middle of the night, knowing without her telling him that it was best to keep their reunion a secret.

Misty’s fingers encountered something under the pillow and she pulled out a note.

Will you marry me again? – D

She wanted to cry. Soon, Domenico, soon.

Last night had been the only way to convince Domenico that she had a plan. But Misty dared not say it out loud, some kind of sixth sense telling her that the realm of the Faeries was no longer the safe haven it once was. The walls had ears now, and news had wings tainted with betrayal. Treachery was afoot – but she knew it would be stupid to say anything unless she had actual proof.

After a quick shower and breakfast, Misty began searching for Lysander and found him minutes later practicing at the courtyard. For a while, she frowned while observing his movements. He looked less and less g*y these days, and she wondered why it was so. Did he feel he had to pretend he was a man so that their so-called betrothal would be more believable? Misty didn’t have to be told of how ambitious Lysander was, of how dedicated he was to his race. If he thought a betrothal to her would better his chances of leading the High Circle then he would take it.

Lysander finally noticed her standing at the edge of the courtyard. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. He laughed when she lifted a lace parasol up and snap it open.

“You are a little too late in protecting me from the sun today,” he said wryly.

“I would have been here earlier if you had told me you were finally going to practice with your sword.” She paused. “You look more at home using it than I imagined, though.”

“Every Faerie is a born swordsman…or swordswoman.”

Misty nodded although to her that didn’t ring quite true.

Lysander tipped her chin up. “You look different.”

She did her best not to blush, knowing that it was a night of hot, beautifully drugging sex that had her cheeks blooming and her lips rosy. She cleared her throat. “Lysander, we have to talk.”

He shook his head.

She was startled. “Excuse me?”

He grinned. “I didn’t say anything.”

Misty rolled her eyes. “You’re acting like a kid.”

“Am I?” His smile was almost as blinding as Domenico.

She blinked.

Lysander laughed. He left her momentarily to return his sword to its scabbard and gave it to another soldier. “Shine it then return it to me in person.” When he looked back at Misty, she was frowning at him in confusion.

“Lysander,” she began.

“Yes?”

“I need to talk to you really.”