The Dare Collection April 2019. Nicola Marsh

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СКАЧАТЬ night he’d kidnapped me, instinct had told me that Ajax King wasn’t a man I should be afraid of, and so far he’d done nothing to disprove that.

      And, anyway, I wouldn’t have let him touch me if I’d been afraid. I wouldn’t be sitting here, lying on his magnificent naked body and tracing his tattoos if he’d been the same kind of monster my father was.

      He radiated protective energy; I could feel it in my bones. In my heart. He might be hard and pitiless, with a violent, fearsome reputation, but he wasn’t a man who’d hurt vulnerable people.

      I was the daughter of his father’s enemy and, despite catching me poking around in his personal things, all he’d done was tell me off.

      Hardly the actions of a monster.

       You don’t know him. He could be just a different type of monster.

      He could be. But if he was a different type, then it was a type that I found completely fascinating and utterly compelling.

      And what made him think he was a monster anyway? What was in his past that made him think he was so dangerous? There were rumours about him, about how ruthless he was as a businessman. Many had expected that, as heir to his father’s throne, he’d go down along with Augustus, yet he hadn’t. In fact, he’d been the one who’d taken Augustus down, seemingly escaping the charges that had caught his father.

      Curiosity gripped me, winding tighter and tighter.

      How had he escaped the law? When he’d supposedly been his father’s true heir? Had he been granted immunity of some kind in return for betraying Augustus?

       What kind of man are you touching right now?

      I stared into his eyes, looking deep, and he didn’t flinch away. Blue fire blazed there, burning hot and strong. A man of conviction, determination. A man of strength and power, who’d given me space to cry. Who’d told me I wasn’t a disappointment.

      He was no monster.

      I lifted my hand and touched his cheek. ‘What makes you think that? You haven’t done anything particularly monstrous to me.’

      ‘I kidnapped you. And I’m going to use you against your father to get what I want.’ His mouth curved in a predatory smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘And I don’t give a damn about your feelings on the subject.’

      I let my fingers trail down to the sharp line of his jaw and then lower, down the side of his strong neck. ‘But I told you I didn’t want you to give a damn.’

      ‘There are worse things than not caring about people’s feelings, little one. You must know that. Especially considering your own father.’

      I brushed my fingers over his throat, moving down the hard expanse of his chest, crisp hair rough against my fingertips. ‘Have you beaten up people and left them for dead?’

      ‘Yes.’

      It didn’t surprise me. The son of Augustus King wasn’t going to be as pure as the driven snow.

      I didn’t look away, kept my gaze on his. ‘Innocent people?’

      A muscle leapt in the side of his jaw. ‘Yes.’ A slight hesitation.

      I focused on him, all my attention zeroing in on his winter-sky eyes. ‘Why?’

      He reached for my hand and pushed it down, curling my fingers around his hardening cock. ‘My father needed to be taken down so I did what I had to do.’ His voice was like iron and just as cold. ‘Are we done?’

      It was clear he didn’t want to talk any more, but that only made me even more curious. He’d done what he had to do. What did that mean?

      ‘No,’ I said. ‘I want to—’

      ‘Because I’d prefer you to concentrate on something else.’ His fingers tightened around mine, pressing my fingers against his hard flesh. ‘Like my cock, for example.’

      Dammit. I wanted to push, but having him in my hand, hot and smooth and firm, was distracting. Too distracting.

      ‘Why can’t we talk about you?’ I looked down, at where my hand and his were wrapped around his hard-on. God, he felt good. ‘I told you about me.’

      ‘Because I said so.’ His tone was flat, no room for argument. ‘If you disagree, you know where the door is.’

      Frustration needled at me, making me want to let him go and sweep grandly out. But I couldn’t quite bring myself to do so. When would I get this opportunity again? To hold him like I was doing now, explore him the way he wanted me to? Maybe I wouldn’t.

      I glared at him. ‘That’s not fair.’

      He looked back, his gaze uncompromising. ‘That’s it. Get angry with me. Show me what a pissed-off Imogen looks like.’

      ‘A pissed-off Imogen might look like me leaving you alone with your hard-on.’

      ‘Do it then.’ Challenge burned in his eyes. ‘If you think you can.’

      And it hit me again in that moment—truly hit me—that I could get pissed off if I wanted to. I could get angry. I could get really, really angry. And there would be no consequences, because there was no one to get hurt and no one to disappoint.

      There was only Ajax and he didn’t care.

      The weirdest rush of exhilaration swept through me. Was this what freedom felt like?

      I met Ajax’s stare, squeezing him at the same time as I brushed my thumb over the head of his dick, not knowing what I was doing and not giving one single damn. ‘You really want to test me?’

      ‘Fuck,’ he hissed, his body tensing, every one of those carved muscles contracting deliciously under his skin.

      Oh, crap. Had I hurt him? ‘Sorry,’ I muttered. ‘Was that too hard?’

      ‘Hell, no.’ The flame in his eyes burned even brighter. ‘Do it again. And harder. And never fucking apologise to me again.’

      The breath went out of me. Did I apologise too much?

       Of course you do. But you don’t need to worry about that with him. He can handle it. Because he doesn’t care.

      My hand tightened around him, my gaze riveted to his face, watching pleasure draw his features tight and set the blue of his eyes blazing even hotter.

      And when I rubbed my thumb over the head of his cock again, I discovered his skin was slick and getting slicker. Interesting. I took my hand away and put my thumb in my mouth. He tasted of salt and something masculine and indefinable, delicious.

      His gaze followed every movement I made, his lips drawing back in a snarl, and I felt it again, my power over him, at the same time as I could feel and see his strength.

      Nothing could hurt this man, not even me.

      I could do anything to him, tell him anything, СКАЧАТЬ