Page 101 of Twisted Prince

I know I’m going to hate myself for it later.

But something about the way Mel pleads makes me lose my ever-loving mind.

42

MEL

Gleb’s lips crash against mine with a force that tells me the barrier between us has shattered. I don’t know what I said that made him change his mind. And honestly, right now, I don’t care.

Because his strong hands are suddenly around my waist, his fingers splayed across the bare skin of my back as he pulls me roughly toward him. I gasp at the feel of his rock-hard erection pressing between us.

His towel snags against the intricate fabric of Silvia’s beautiful dress. And though I don’t want to ruin it, I’m so consumed by desire, I can’t bring myself to say anything.

Besides, I fully intend to remove that towel the first chance I get.

Pulling me into his room, Gleb softly closes the door behind me, giving us an extra layer of privacy to avoid disturbing Gabby. But she’s so deeply asleep, I have no doubt she’ll make it through the night without a peep.

“God, I want you so bad,” I gasp against his lips, my hands exploring the firm planes of his lean, powerful muscles.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you in this dress,” he growls, his mouth shifting to my throat and raising goosebumps along my spine.

“Really?” I gasp as his dexterous fingers go to work on the buttons that close it at the top.

He nods, his hot breath washing across my skin and sending a shiver of anticipation through my core.

“I might just have to borrow it from Silvia more often, then,” I joke.

A low rumble that sounds dangerously close to a growl vibrates from deep in Gleb’s chest, sending a shockwave of arousal to my clit and drenching my panties in an instant.

Buttons undone, Gleb runs his hands down my back to the zipper that starts at the base of my spine, and I can’t help but wonder—hope, even—that he might not have already assessed how he could take it off me.

Skin on fire, I curl my fingers around the snugly wrapped edge of his towel, relishing the sharp V that points the way toward what I crave. With a light tug, I release the terry cloth, dropping it to the floor as I reveal Gleb in all his godlike glory.

Every inch of him is rock-hard and toned beyond reason, like a marble-carved statue with a layer of silken skin on top. But he only gives me a moment to admire him before his fingers wrap around the collar of my dress.

He slowly guides it over my shoulders and down my arms until it slips free to pool at my feet. And I’m left in nothing but my now-dripping undies.

His eyes rake down my body with unbridled appreciation. But the visual caress is so different, so much more tantalizing, from any of the looks I ever drew at Pearl’s—or even before. Only Gleb’s infernal gaze can light a fire in my core.

And it leaves me a molten puddle.

For the breadth of a second, I contemplate getting down on my knees before him.

I know that men like receiving head—I was used enough when I was younger to understand that much. I know what they like girls to do.

And I want to do something to please Gleb, to show him how much I appreciate him.

But I’m scared that if I try it, I might trigger a bad memory.

Which would only ruin the progress I’ve made with him.

So, instead, I boldly step closer to Gleb, closing the space between us as I grasp his thick length with my hand. He groans, the tendons in his jaw popping as his fingers find my hips. He grasps me with unyielding strength. Not enough to hurt me—just enough to steer me slowly back toward his bed.

“W-Will it hurt again at first?” I ask, my nerves jumping into play as I think about the other two times we’ve had sex.

Gleb shakes his head no, the confidence in his eyes setting my soul on fire. And mingled in their green depths is a conflicting emotion that makes my heartbeat quicken.

The backs of my knees find the edge of the bed, and as I sink onto it, Gleb leans over me, slowly guiding me back onto the bed like a panther stalking its prey until it has its meal right where it wants them.

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