The Reluctant Wife: A Bodyguard – Princess Marriage of Convenience Romance (The Davenports Book 4)

His gaze rakes me from head to toe, his perusal slow. There are no lights on but the glow from the stars outside bathes him. It picks out the silver in his irises, which seem to glitter as he devours me with his eyes. The air between us sparks with unsaid emotions. My pussy clenches. He takes a step forward, and another. The force of his presence seems to fill the space and circles around me, lassoing me in place. He drags his gaze up my legs to the space between my thighs and stays there. A throbbing sensation tightens my veins. He glides closer, still closer. Stalking me, holding me in place with intent writ in every angle of his chiseled body.

I’m aware, I’m naked. I’m aware that he’s a predator who’s looking at me like I’m his next meal. And I have a sneaking feeling he’s going to love to play with me first. I must have been crazy to think I could walk in here without any clothes on and expect to leave without facing the consequences of taunting him.

I might be royalty, but he’s the king of all he surveys.

He’s an alpha male used to getting his way. An apex beast, at the top of the food chain.

His arrogance, his dominance is imprinted in his every lethal step. In how his chest planes bunch, stretching the shirt he’s wearing, straining at the buttons. He’s abandoned his jacket and undone the top three buttons, and I can make out the trail of hair that disappears into the lapels. His shoulders seem to swell. His powerful thighs strain his pants. And the bulge between them is massive. I stare openly at the virility he wears like a badge. The man’s packing. No wonder he has such a swollen ego. It’s not the only part of him which is swollen either.

A snicker escapes me, and he inclines his head, the movement sharp. His gaze is even sharper as he raises it to my face.

Our eyes clash, his green with gold and silver sparks in their depths. In this light, they seem hazel, almost surreal. An alien from another world who’s come to carry me off to his lair and have his way with me. A gust of wind blows in from the open doorway to the deck. Goosebumps pop on my skin. He stiffens, then spins around and walks back to slide the door shut. He pivots and prowls toward me again.

My belly twists. My toes curl. The blood thrums at my temples, in my veins. My nipples tighten. My breasts ache. He pauses in front of me, so close the heat from his body singes my skin. A buzzing sensation gathers in my lower belly. My breath comes in short, choppy bursts. He reaches down and unfastens his belt buckle. The scrape of the leather against fabric as he pulls it off lights up my nerve-endings. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Then, without taking his gaze off my face, he folds the belt in two and thwacks it against his palm. I gasp.

He nods in the direction of the table next to us. ‘Bend over.’

‘What?’ I squeak.

“You knew you had me when I couldn’t take my eyes off how you licked the food off your fork with your pretty pink tongue in the restaurant. You knew if I saw you without your clothes, I wouldn’t be able to resist you.”

“Y-you can’t resist me?”

His features take on a tortured expression, then he shakes his head as if to clear it. “I told you I cannot overstep the line between protective personnel and principal and jeopardize your safety. Yet, you persist in finding ways to tempt me. You insist on shaking my concentration. On shredding my control so I can’t do my job of keeping you safe. Ergo you put yourself in danger. And I cannot have that.’ He wraps his free hand around the belt fold and stretches it.

The hiss of the leather against his palm causes a strange yearning to jolt up my spine. My pussy clenches painfully. My knees tremble. I should be afraid of what he can do to me. Of what he’s asking me to do for him, but I want so badly to please him. Want to feel that leather against my skin. Want to feel his hands on me. Want him to control me. Gah! What’s wrong with me? I don’t bend for anyone. But him? What about him? Will I bend for him?

“You’ve been disobedient. I told you, whatever is between us cannot come to fruition. Not until I’ve completed my assignment as your bodyguard. But you did not listen to me. You decided to force the issue by seducing me. You decided to take matters into your own hands. And now, I’m going to take you in hand. I’m going to punish you for disobeying me.”

“You’re punishing me because I prevented you from doing your job? Because I tried to seduce you, and you fell for it? You realize how illogical that is?” And how perfect. This is what I wanted all along. I was never spanked as a child, and that he’s going to be the first to deliver it with a belt turns my insides to mush. I want him to be so focused on me. For him to lose his mind until he could no longer resist me. Only now, I feel like I’ve been caught with my head inside the lion’s mouth.

I try to laugh but it comes out as little more than a little thread of noise. One that causes him to flare his nostrils. Oh my god, he can smell my fear and my arousal; I’m sure of that.

He tilts his head as if considering my response, then jerks his chin. “Do it.” His gaze is hard, his jaw set. His green eyes are now more gold than silver. Oh, he’s turned on. I can see it in the way the tendons of his throat stand out in relief. The way a nerve ticks at his jawline. The way a bead of sweat trickles down his temple.

Whoa, he’s reached the end of his tether. He looks like a man undone. I wore him down. I’m finally going to get my way. He’s going to make me submit to him. To someone who’s earned the right to be my master. To someone who’s shown me that he’s more dominant than me. And it feels so right. I feel like I’m going to go up in flames with the sheer anticipation of the moment.

I risk a glance at that package between his legs, which seems to have grown bigger, thicker, wider, straining at the zipper of his crotch, and saliva pools in my mouth. My fingers tingle. Unable to stop myself, I reach out to touch it, and he flicks the belt across my knuckles.

I cry out, pull my hand back, and cradle it against my chest. He didn’t hurt me. The leather barely licked my skin. It’s the shock that he did it that surprised me. I stare at him with wide eyes. The expression on his face doesn’t reflect what he did.

‘I won’t ask again,’ he growls in a low, dark voice.

I shiver. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Am I going to do this? I swallow, then turn and place my palms flat on the table and fold. My cheek meets the flat wooden surface.

‘Good girl.’

I shudder. That yearning in my stomach flips into a full-blown flame of need. A trickle down my inner thigh signals how turned on I am. Then he kicks my feet apart. I draw in a sharp breath. Before I can find my bearings, a crack across my backside makes me cry out.

‘The hell!’ I glare up at him from the corner of my eye. ‘What are you doing?’

I know exactly what he’s doing, but I want to challenge him to get more out of this. I want to rile him up, so he won’t hold back. This might be the only chance I have to be with him like this, and I’m going to make the most of it. I want to experience everything with him… For just this one night.

‘Are you going to take your punishment and show me how much you want this? Or’—he looks me up and down—’are you going to straighten and walk away, and I’ll never again attempt to share how it can be between us?’

I swallow. The line of fire across my butt cheeks sizzles and sparks. The contrast between it and the cool air that envelops my backside ramps up my desire.

My thighs tremble. My pussy continues to leak like an open faucet. My body wants more, but my mind cautions that if I agree, I’m turning a corner in this relationship. It’s a line once crossed… I can’t retreat.

He seems to understand my thought, for he nods. ‘This changes everything.’ His voice is remote, almost clinical. If I thought he was the strong, silent type, now there’s also a dark edge to him I only sensed earlier, which attracted me, but which he’s only revealing to me now. Is it because he used the belt on me? Is that what is slowing pulling back the layers he likes to throw up between us? Is this the only way I’m going to see the real Ryot? The one I’m so attracted to. My instinct says yes. My body says… Fuck yes. I nod slowly.

‘Say it,’ he snaps.

‘Yes—’ I swallow. ‘Yes,’ I say in a hoarse voice, ‘I want you to whip m—’ I cry out again, for even before the words are out of my mouth, he’s brought the belt down on my backside, again and again. And he’s not holding back. Each slap of the belt against my butt sparks a fresh wave of discomfort, followed by a burst of pleasure which arrows straight to my core. It turns my pussy into a sea of desire, with waves of need that lap against my clit. My thighs shudder. My nipples pinch into points of longing. A craving builds up deep inside me. It swells and grows tighter, curling in on itself. Tautening, knotting itself into something so much more intense. I begin to pant.

My cheat heaves. Sweat trickles down my spine. And yet, he doesn’t stop. He continues to slap the belt down, alternating between ass cheeks, and with each welt, the yearning inside me grows fiercer. More enormous and more potent. I sense a power greater than me gather inside of me, and when he brings the belt down on my pussy, the shock is so sudden, I orgasm.

I cry out, squeeze my eyes shut and slap my palms into the surface of the table. Waves of intense pleasure pour over me like nothing I’ve faced before. All those orgasms I’ve had thanks to my trusty vibrator have nothing on the gratification he’s brought to me. I shudder, aware of the mewling noises which escape my lips. My toes curl; my knees quiver.

I begin to slump, when he squeezes his big palm around my hip and holds me in place. Then, he slides a finger between my swollen pussy lips. Shockwaves cut through the buzz of fulfillment in my mind. And when he brings his finger to my face and smears my cum on my lips, it feels…so decadent. So…erotic. I lick the taste of myself off my mouth, and it’s surprisingly sweet. When I furrow my brows in surprise, he simply leans down and brushes his mouth over mine.

It’s soft, just a whisper, gone so quickly, I chase after it, but he shakes his head. ‘You have to earn the kiss, Empress.’ He stabs his finger in my direction. ‘Stay there.’

Empress. I love that nickname.

What I’m not sure about is the imperious tone of his voice. So bossy. I want to protest that he can’t order me around, but… I allowed him to spank me. And enjoyed it. And climaxed. Ripples of aftershock convulse through my body. Apparently, I think I don’t like to be bossed around, but any command from him, anytime he asks me to do something in that bossy voice of his, anytime he’s controlling… It turns me on so much. It’s so confusing. I mull over the possibility that I like it because he’s the one who’s so demanding? It’s only when it comes from him that I feel like I must obey… My head spins.

I hear him moving around. He opens and closes a drawer, then there’s the sound of the tap running in the sink. He walks around to stand behind me. Something cold and wet is placed over my smarting bottom. A moan of relief escapes me.

‘Feels good, hmm?’ He keeps the wet towel pressed into my butt cheeks, and the lingering pain fades. Then he takes off the towel and smears something over my ass, and the discomfort recedes completely. ‘Aloe Vera,’ he answers my unspoken question. ‘It’ll soothe the skin, so you’re ready for your next spanking.’

‘What?’ I jerk my chin to stare at him over my shoulder to find he’s smirking.

‘Very funny.’ I want to be pissed off, but really, the gleam in his eyes and the slight curve of his lips elicits a smile from me. ‘Can I straighten now?’

‘No.’ He shakes his head.

‘No?’ I frown.

In response, he pulls me upright then turns and scoops me up in his arms.

The way he maneuvers my body like I weigh nothing. Holy shit. It makes me feel small and delicate. Which is refreshing, given my curves. I love it.

‘Oh,’ I squeak and hold onto him. He strides out of the kitchen like I weigh nothing. And how I love that. I am not defensive about my curves, but I also know I don’t fit the conventional picture of a rail thin, Disney princess either. I dress to show off my curves. And have made it my mission to support charities that help women with self-esteem issues. We don’t owe the world how we look, but sometimes, it’s difficult to hold onto our self-confidence when the media dictates that we look a certain way.

‘I can walk,’ I murmur.

‘Let me take care of you.’