Page 156 of Pucking Them
Then she rubs her bound hands over Shay’s hard cock, which rocks against her legs, each time D’Angelo thrusts into him.
Shay comes with a shout as well.
“Bad pet.” D’Angelo drags Shay back by the hair. “Who gave you permission… W-w-who…?”
D’Angelo starts to slur. His gaze has lost focus. He’s staring into space.
“Darlin’?” Shay shakes his hair out of D’Angelo’s now loosened grip, attempting to look around at D’Angelo in concern.
My stomach drops.
Something is wrong.
Something is…
Suddenly, the color drains from D’Angelo’s face.
He pulls back sharply from Shay, attempting to raise his hand to his head but seeming to be unable to coordinate his muscles to do it.
“Jude,” Robyn cries in alarm.
D’Angelo’s shoulders slump, his head drops forward, and his eyes close.
Then he collapses to the floor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
On the Rocks, Freedom
Shay
“Areyou sure that after you fainted this morning, we should still be out on our date this evening?” I squeeze after D’Angelo into the red, velvet booth in the center of the On the Rocks bar.
D’Angelo wrinkles his nose at the brightly colored fruity mocktails that he places onto the table, before sprawling in the booth. “I’m following Mike’s instructions. I’m not drinking alcohol. What hell is this to be surrounded by the best whiskey in Virginia and to be drinking…” He taps his highball glass of amber liquid. “Peach Iced Tea Mocktail. Eden would love it, but please don’t tell anyone that I am drinking something like this or my Bond image will be destroyed. See how seriously I’m taking the situation?”
Deflection.
I know because I am a Prince in it.
D’Angelo is the King.
I cross my arms.
“Youfainted,” I repeat.
D’Angelo frowns. “I blacked out.”
“Much more macho. Either way, do you know how much it freaked me out to have your cock in me one minute and then to have you passing out the next?”
D’Angelo taps his finger against the glass three times. “Really? Now you know how I feel. How many times do you pass out after I give you a mind-blowing orgasm? Drink up.”
He pushes a short, round cup toward me. When I touch it, I hiss. It’s so cold that the glass is clouded. It’s packed with crushed ice and bright green leaves.
I sniff it, suspiciously. “It smells like mint.”
D’Angelo grips me by the neck, dragging me closer to whisper into my ear. “These drinks are both traditional to Freedom. It’s a Virgin Mint Julep for my stolen virgin bride.”
I laugh.
