Chapter Thirty Six
Hart
Becoming king was a necessity for our plans to end the Idols’ hold.
I have no interest in it beyond that, and it pales in comparison to being the husband of the woman who stumbled into our path and brought us together.
While we were close before, the fractures from our upbringing hung heavily between us.
No one can erase the bad things we experienced, but by some miracle, Calamity healed our wounds and welcomed the darkness living inside us.
I kick the door closed behind us and set her on the floor, releasing her.
She peers up at me with eyes bright with excitement and cheeks flushed a rosy pink.
I don’t think I’ll ever tire of looking at her, not even when we’re old, with silver peppering our hair and wrinkles etched into our faces.
She isn’t just it for me—she is everything.
The thought should terrify me, but I find myself excited by the prospect instead.
I drop my jacket to the floor and tug my shirt over my head. She swallows and sweeps her gaze over my chest.
“I love the way you look at me,” I tell her.
“How do I look at you?” Her words come out breathy.
I stalk closer and clasp her hand against my chest. My heart thuds against her palm, strong and certain. “Like your heart beats for me.”
“Then my eyes speak the truth.”
“They tell the story of a thousand dreams,” I murmur, leaning my forehead against hers. “Of things you never thought possible. But the crown on my head is nothing compared to the way you rule me.” I tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear, brushing against the white bloom caught in the tresses.
She sucks in a breath. “Since the moment we met, I’ve been free-falling.”
“I will always catch you. Even if the world burns, even if the crowns shatter. I will be there at the end of your fall.” I kiss her slowly, deeply, like I’m sealing something far more dangerous than a vow.
When I break away, my breath is no longer my own.
“Because I am already irrevocably yours,” I say, quieter now, heavier.
“And you should know that you are not alone in this. You have the power to undo me.”
“And yet,” she whispers, fingers tightening in my shirt, “it is I who comes apart in your arms.”
My lips skim her jaw. “And I,” I murmur against her skin, “am the man who would fall to his knees for you in every lifetime.”
After undoing the ribbons of her corset, I do just that, savoring every sharp intake of breath and every shiver.
I revel in her soft moans, the needy way she grips my hair as I discover her sensitive spots.
I rid her of her gown and boots, smiling at the fact that we can put her in a fancy gown but we still need sensible footwear.
She stands vulnerable before me, her heart on her sleeve for me to protect. By some miracle, even after everything she’s been through, she is still soft. The realm failed in its attempts to ruin her.
The white silk chemise, matching panties, and lace-top stockings might be my favorite look on her. Next to being naked, of course.
I press my hand between her legs and raise a brow at the wetness. “Explain.”
She bites her lip and blushes. “Malachi needed reassurance.”
“Directly before you said ‘I do’?”
She shrugs. “The timing wasn’t important. He needed a reminder that he’s worthy.”
That fucking sword. I understand the guilt, but he needs to let it go. She’s back. Flesh and blood and causing calamities.
“Interesting timing,” I point out, pressing my fingers against the soaking fabric. “And he didn’t let you clean up after?”
She blinks. Yes, Daphne, my brother played you, knowing I would be spending one-on-one time with you after our vows.
“He forbade it,” she whispers.
I’ll get my own back on my twin later. I hook my fingers into the sides of her panties and slide them down her legs, tossing them over my shoulder. I nip at her hip bones and push two fingers inside her. Fuck, she's hot and ready. That’s not all Malachi.
But it does mean I can teach her a lesson.
“I can go bathe,” she murmurs with her eyes half open.
“No need. You’ll clean it off in other ways.”
Her gaze narrows, trying to understand what I have planned. She’s so innocent. I should feel bad that we’re corrupting her one stroke at a time, but when it comes from a place of adoration, it can’t be wrong.
I stand and undo my breeches, letting them drop to the floor and reveling in the way hunger darkens her eyes.
She licks her lips as my hard cock bounces against my stomach.
I grasp her crown and place it on the table, laying my own next to it.
For the first time, the sight of the metal doesn’t make me snarl in disgust. It once represented everything I hated about the realm.
How quickly that perception can change when faced with the right person.
I toy with different positions. On her hands and knees, on her back... choices, choices.
“Lie down on the bed,” I instruct. She does as I ask, obedient in the bedroom when she isn’t anywhere else. It sends a dark shiver dancing down my spine. “Now open your legs for me, Calamity.”
She does a little. I raise a brow. She huffs and widens them, revealing her center to my gaze.
“So fucking beautiful,” I murmur. “Hands above your head. Now don’t fucking move.”
Her pupils are blown wide, and her breathing comes in short pants. I climb over her and bury myself in her heat. “Hart,” she cries out, her hands locking behind my neck as she tries to hold on.
“You were doing so well,” I growl. “But your disobedience is adding to your punishment.”
“I didn’t—”
I grab her wrists and push them back over her head, never slowing my rhythm. I feel the telltale signs of her climax, and her hands once more find my neck.
I growl and pull out before sliding off the bed and grabbing my belt.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her throat bobbing.
“Helping you.”
I maneuver her hands into a prayer position above her head, wrap my leather belt around them, and feed it through the bed frame beneath the heavy mattress, trapping her hands in position.
Her chest rises faster. I push the silk from her breasts and pinch her nipples, making her cry out.
Gorgeous and bewitching. I could be forgiven for thinking she was sent to destroy us, given the magic she’s woven around each of us.
But I know in my bones everything we feel is reciprocated.
I straddle her chest and fist my cock. “Now open your mouth. It’s time to clean up.” Her eyes widen in understanding as my hand curls around her throat in a possessive but unthreatening hold. Although I am planning on testing her limits.
Her breath shakes as she opens her mouth, feeding my control. Her pulse goes wild against my hand as I slide the tip of my dripping cock against her lips. Is it crossing boundaries? Yes. But it always is when it comes to Daphne.
“Take me deeper. Every inch needs to be cleaned,” I demand.
She swallows, and I almost lose control as her throat constricts around the tip and drags me deeper. I slide in a few times, ensuring I’m covered in her saliva before I pull out, glide down her body, and thrust inside her body. Her legs curl around my hips, drawing me deeper.
“Please, Hart,” she begs as I slow down when she starts fluttering around my cock once more.
I pin her knees to the bed so I can control the friction against her clit. “Not yet,” I growl. “You still have more chores. You missed a few spots.”
By some miracle, I keep my cool and swap to her mouth again. Watching her taste a mix of herself and my brother from my cock has got to be the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done—to date. I have many more ideas, and I’ll ensure we play all of them out.
I repeat the swapping until she’s squirming on the bed and whimpering with the edge I’m walking her on. I see the appeal Nash has for denying her orgasms until she’s feral. Poor Calamity.
This time, I encourage her legs to wrap around my waist and hook at the base of my spine.
I press my mouth to hers, our tongues tangling.
The shared taste makes me groan low. I yank on the belt and release her hands, and she instantly pulls me closer, wrapping me tight in her needs, wants, and desires.
“Come with me,” I command before covering her mouth with my own, grinding my hips just right to make the friction too much to bear.
Her back arches beneath me, and the ripple running through her body is fucking amazing. I’m addicted to how she squirms and screams into my mouth.
I follow her over, shouting her name for all the realm to hear that Daphne Stone-Stirling is mine.
Woman, partner, friend, lover, queen.
Wife.