My Dark Prince: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Dark Prince Road)

The storm inside me refused to recede.

It thundered between my ribcage, dark and roiling, as I breezed back into the house an hour later, careful to hide my emotions. If I released them, they would drown us all, heavy and suffocating like stubborn clouds clinging to their shape.

Oliver met me in the foyer. He’d just walked into the mansion, too, obviously returning from a run. If he noticed the tempest inside me, he didn’t comment on it.

A bead of sweat dripped off his temple onto his drenched wifebeater. He wiped his forehead with the hem of the shirt, revealing lean abs and a deep V. He could pass as a demigod. The wink he sent me after he caught me staring told me he knew it, too.

Suddenly, an idea rammed into me, almost knocking me over with the weight of its stupidity. It was horrible, and brilliant, and petty, and perhaps the only thing that could calm my storm.

“Well, well.” Oliver smirked around the rim of his Stanley, pausing to chug water. “If it isn’t my personal vegetarian climate warrior.”

He discarded the bottle onto the kitchen island as he passed it, his eyes raking my body up and down.

“Well, well.” I mirrored his movements, sweeping my own eyes up and down his body. “If it isn’t my personal unemployed sex maniac.”

He clutched his heart. “Don’t tell me you Googled me.”

“I did.” I smiled, catching up with his long steps, trying not to snort as he almost stumbled at my confirmation. It would ease his mind to inform him exactly what I’d learned, which was precisely why I didn’t. “No mention of me. Do you normally hide me in the attic?”

“I’d never.” He released a dramatic gasp. “That’s where I keep my mistresses. Nah, you just don’t like the spotlight.”

“You never did, either.”

That didn’t mean he didn’t command it. People stared whether or not he wanted them to. Came with the territory of possessing a level of attraction better suited for a magnet.

“Wanna order in?” He tossed a workout towel over his shoulder. “Or is it too great a carbon footprint to hire a DoorDash driver to lug our dinner all the way here?”

I wondered if the women who had come after me thought they could fix him. They must have. Oliver von Bismarck was rich, handsome, and funny. He must’ve had enough women chasing him to form a football team at a moment’s notice.

“Ordering in is fine.” I waved him off, a breezy grin on my face. “Where are you headed?”

“The shower.”

“What a coincidence. I’m planning on doing some hot yoga in the bathroom. I’ll join you.”

On instinct, his eyes swept over me before he averted them. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

We climbed the stairs up to the master bedroom, side-by-side. I made sure to bump my arm against his, though he offered me enough berth to stay away.

“Agree to disagree.” I stole his towel, wiping the nape of my neck. “I love the steam from the shower. Helps me breathe better, and your presence there won’t interrupt me.”

“You’ll interrupt me.”

“You’ll survive, honey.” I patted his iron buns with a wink.noveldrama

He jumped, staring at me wide-eyed. “Did you just pat my ass?”

“Yes. Why? Did I make you feel uncomfortable?”

He shook his head, almost gaping at me.

We made our way into the master bathroom. I could tell Oliver wanted to protest when I strode in with him, but I’d robbed him of his voice the second I tore off my shirt and bra, shoving my jeans and underwear down in one motion. They flung against the wall as I kicked them away.

Oliver stood in front of me, ogling me for at least sixty seconds straight.

“Are you having a stroke?” I wiggled my toes inside my white knee-high socks and stretched my arms above my head, bending backwards with a yawn. As a devout yogi, my flexibility rivaled a bungee cord. “If so, you won’t be mad if I send you to the ER with one of the house staff, right? Rush hour is such a downer.”

“Well, aren’t I a lucky man for bagging you?” he muttered, the bulge in his grey sweatpants swelling by the nanosecond.

“The luckiest.” I reached to pinch his cheek, knowing he always loathed it. “Get started on that shower. I’m hungry.”

When he didn’t make a move, I turned my back to him and slid into a downward dog position, gifting him an excellent view of my ass and legs. He sucked in a breath behind me, fumbled for the edge of the counter, and choked it with his fingers.

“Christ, Cuddlebug.” Ollie’s voice came out rough and desperate. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Why? Is it working?”

His responding gurgle implied he’d choked on his own tongue.

“Hmm?” In one swift movement, I shifted into a side plank, gliding my right foot over the inside of my left leg until it reached my upper thigh. “Did you say something?”

Oliver didn’t answer as I stretched my free arm straight up. In fact, he hadn’t even moved since I’d stripped. Without warning, I pointed my right leg high into the sky, offering him a front row view to my bare pussy.

My nipples pebbled, strained with lust. The wetness between my thighs probably glistened, an open invite.

Oliver just stood there, miserably shifting from side to side, trying not to touch himself.

“Sweetie, can you start the shower?” I slid down into a full split. “That steam isn’t going to create itself.”

“Hard disagree.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “There’s so much steam in here my balls are about to ignite.”

Somehow, he managed to rip his eyes from me and tore his clothes off, scattering them on the tiles. His body made me want to weep. My core pulsed, desperate to be filled. To be stroked. To be devoured by this man.

He was perfect. Every inch of him. All broad shoulders, muscular arms, and immaculate six pack.

He stumbled toward the glass enclosure and kept the door ajar as he fumbled with the knobs. The spray hissed to life, filling the room with foggy mist. Condensation gathered on the mirrors and walls as the air grew hotter.

Oliver rested his forearm over the quartz, desperate not to reach for his cock. It had become impossibly engorged, the crown almost purple. A perfect pearl of precum already graced the tip.

I knew my plan would be easy, but I hadn’t expected it to be this easy.

“You can tug one out, baby. I won’t be mad.” I winked, rising to my feet and grabbing my heel in a half-moon pose. “I low key want to touch myself, too.”

Oliver grunted in pain, fisting his cock and squeezing it hard without stroking. He tipped his chin down. Water cascaded along his imperial figure, past those blond curls I used to love thrusting my fingers into because they smelled like summer, and coconuts, and the boy I loved.

He swiped away the precum. “This is really hard for me.”

“I can tell.” My gaze slid to his cock, which latched onto his abs like a leech after he freed it from his grip. “Do you mind if I pet the kitty?”

“Ah … what?” He seemed dazed. Distracted.

“You know … polish the pearl. Play the clitar.”

He blinked at me a few times, looking ready to combust. “You have a sense of humor.”

He seemed surprised.

Ah, yes. Because I’m a frigid, sullen environmentalist.

“A sense of humor – and the libido of someone who just discovered sex. Plus, I make the best pizza you’ll ever taste. But you already knew that, future hubs.” I winked, gesturing to my pussy. “Now, may I?”

“Yeah. Of course. If you want to, that is.”

“It’s getting a little cold outside, actually.” I took off my socks, throwing them in the pile of clothes he’d left behind. “Mind if I come in? I promise not to touch you. I respect you not wanting to have sex until I regain my memory.”

“Actually, maybe that’s not—”

I waltzed inside the massive walk-in shower, ignoring his protest. Four fancy showerheads dotted the ceiling. I flicked on a random, untouched faucet knob, activating the rain feature. With a grin, I claimed the bench in the corner and spread my knees apart, showing him all of me.

I wasn’t just wet.

I was soaked.

There was no denying I found this man delectable. No matter how I felt about him, I couldn’t deny the attraction.

Oliver stopped protesting and throwing me miserable looks. He slid down the tiled wall and watched me. Water gathered at the seam of his pink lips, weighing down the tips of his eyelashes. His eyes were hooded. Drunk with lust.

His penis swung up and down, like a pendulum, desperate to sink itself into something. Into me. I wanted to be filled with him. All of him.

Flashes of our first time danced before me.

My nails deep into his back, unable to hold back because he was so big. So thick.

The delicious sensation of being fused together.

I reached for my clit and began massaging it with my index finger, teasing my opening with my pinky. My pussy made greedy slurps, ready to be conquered by the man in front of me. My nipples were so hard, so sensitive, the faintest brush of wind made me rock and shiver.

“Your pussy is so beautiful,” he rasped, licking his lips. “I wish I could devour it.”

“You can.” I drew a smile on my clit with my fingertip. “Hubby-to-be.”

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, fisting his cock again. “What are you doing to me?”

“Hey …” I tried to keep my tone calm. Businesslike. To hide how he affected me. I was on the brink of an orgasm. Just from him watching me play with my clit. “You should lather yourself with soap. You know … to clean up.”

He reached for a golden bottle of Guerlain, squirting it twice into his palms. “I should.”

His strong fingers ran over his shoulders, back, and chest. I quickened my pace on my clit, using my other hand to create a V with my index and middle finger to spread my pussy lips. His chest rose and fell faster.

He grunted, something that sounded like a moan. “Do you mind if I clean my cock, too?”

“Nope.” My voice escaped thick and syrupy, so unlike me. “Hygiene comes first.”

My hips rocked back and forth to the rhythm of our heartbeats. Even from across the shower, I could still feel him. His hot breaths. His impossible pulse. His eyes touching me everywhere they landed.

I wanted to drown in this man and never come up for air. He could ruin me if he wanted to. In fact, I almost lost the plan. My purpose. The reason I’d goaded him into feeding our temptation.

Ollie’s hand slid up his cock from root to crown. “We should stop this.”

Still, he rubbed his thumb over the slit at the tip, quivering with lust and excitement, his eyes boring into mine.

“No.” I picked up my pace. “I’m too close.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” Oliver shook his head, letting go of his engorged cock. Rain battered his back as he plastered both his palms on the mosaic tiles. “It’s not okay. I can’t do this to you.”

“I’m so close.”

I really was.

A heavy pant tore through me. I circled my clit before burying two fingers inside me. I didn’t know how to explain it, but I knew this was hotter than any sex I’d ever had – and ever would have. Just knowing Oliver was here. In front of me. Losing his sanity – his mind – over me.

It was all I ever wanted.

Still.

And that thrilled and depressed me at the same time.

“I can see that.” His throat bobbed with a swallow. “You’re breathtaking when you come.”

It was all I needed to push me over the edge. My heart soared, my skin flushed, and my walls pulsated as a hot wave of pleasure rolled over me, starting from the tip of my skull and moving all the way down to my toes.

I was floating, spiraling, succumbing to sweet desire. A moment passed where my entire existence suspended in the air. I tossed my head back, closed my eyes, and let myself feel for a change.

A few moments later, I opened my eyes and found Oliver already on his feet. A towel clung to his waist. He stared at me with a mixture of confusion and horror. It dawned on me what I just did. How close I’d been to sleeping with him.

I stood up, grinned, and strutted over to him, hips swaying. His gaze clung to them, tracing the outline of my waist before moving down between my thighs. I stopped when I reached him and fanned the fingers that were just inside my pussy between us.

I raised an eyebrow. “Want a taste?”

“More than anything in this fucking world,” he croaked. “But I can’t. Not until you get your memory back.”

“Oh, well.”

Still, I drew closer to him. My nipples kissed his chest as I stood on my tiptoes and reached behind his back to turn off the faucet. The second it sputtered off, my skin prickled from the crisp air.

Oliver held his breath as we touched. Drunk on the power I had against him, I rubbed my nipples on him. He held his breath, going eerily still.

His eyes slammed shut. He sucked in a deep inhale, breathing in my fingers. A groan rumbled from deep inside his throat.

“Briar.”

I stretched, arching my naked body against his like a bow. “Maybe next time, right?”

My dripping pussy met his towel – and the throbbing erection it failed to conceal.

“Fucking definitely.”

I turned around and walked away.

1-0 to the away team, asshole.

I was keeping score.

Because earlier, before the lake that reminded me of the one we’d fallen in love at, I’d finally remembered my ugly past.

Fifteen years ago, Oliver von Bismarck abandoned me.

This time, I would be the one to leave.

But not before inflicting him with a wound deeper than the one he’d given me.