Page 48 of Princess Claimed

“Stay bent.”

A tremor rumbles through me along with my awareness of how exposed my sex is for him.

His hands travel from my ankles to my upper thighs. They swirl there for a tantalizingly long time, before sliding back down, leaving me quivering, my legs shaking, exhausted.

Over and over, his fingers and palms repeat this trip, and each time I grow more breathless, more needy, wondering when he’ll finally put his fingers on my sex, or better yet drive his hardness back inside me.

Leaving my legs, his hands slide up over my ribs, then my arms. He lifts my hands off the back of the chair, and I start to straighten, but he pushes my torso forward. Caught off guard, my hands brush past the back cushion of the chair, and my head and shoulders fall forward, my body folding as my hands drop toward the seat.

Still standing on the chair’s arms, I’m folded in half now, my head and shoulders resting on the back of the chair, and I’m grateful for my childhood of ballet training, the flexibility I had from that was amplified when I became a vampire.

Tipped upside down, I’m even more exposed to him now.

“I need to taste you.” His fingers part my folds, and his breath lands steaming hot on my damp skin, scalding me and amplifying my intense and frustrating need.

His fingers trail slowly through my folds, exploring, testing, and then one of them pushes inside me.

I gasp. His digit is tiny compared to the part of him I’ve already taken, but it’s been a while since I’ve been stretched, and even his finger’s intrusion fills my vision with stars. I pulse around him.

His finger draws out and he moans. “Fuck, you taste good.”

He repeats this over and over, sometimes adding a second finger, sometimes hooking or swirling them, and each time he pulls them out, he licks his damp fingers, groaning with pleasure.

He gasps as if making a realization. “Fuck the middleman.”

Before I can wonder what he means, his hands spread me wide and his tongue licks through my folds.

His resulting groan vibrates his tongue and hits me like an earthquake. Over and over, he laps my juices, licking, kissing, sucking, as if he thinks he can drink me dry, but there’s no chance of that. Each of his actions creates more and more wetness, and I’ve never felt so much satisfaction and frustration at the same time.

I don’t want him to stop what he’s doing, not ever. I don’t want him to change a thing, and yet I still haven’t come. I’ve been riding the edge of this cliff for what feels like days, years, but as bad as I want a release, I don’t want to stop climbing.

His tongue changes shape, growing stiffer, and he circles my entrance with its point. My hips swivel at the new stimulation, but his hands grip my hips, stopping my movements. I almost object, but then the curved point of his tongue drives into me, penetrating far deeper than seems possible, flicking and licking inside me.

I cry out, trying to buck my hips, but his hands hold me too firmly to move. He groans again and his tongue vibrates inside me.

My vision goes red, and then white, and the explosion I’ve been craving finally arrives.

In a flash, his tongue slips out and he lifts me. Turning himself, he sits on the chair, and holding my thighs spread wide he slides my convulsing pussy onto his cock.

“I needed to see your face,” he says, his jaw tight, his skin flushed red, his pupils expanding out into the gold of his eyes.

I’ve never seen anything so spectacular.

My hands fall onto his shoulders, and I rise and lower over him, drawing out my orgasm, relishing every moment of it as I throb around his thickness, feeling the contractions deep inside my bones.

Even today, I’ve had orgasms more intense, but this one feels special. It’s like I can see my own pleasure reflected in his eyes.

“I need—” His booming voice breaks.

I cup his cheek. “What do you need?”

“Harder.” Veins pulse on his forehead. “Can I fuck you harder?”

A smile flushes over me. “Yes. Please.”

Holding my hips, he drives up into me, bouncing me on his lap so quickly I lose any pretense of control. Then he leaps to his feet.

I struggle to hook my heels around him, but I don’t need to. Phil holds my body aloft in front of him as if I weigh nothing, and he uses the full power of his arms, his legs and hips, to slam into my body so hard and fast that all I can do is scream in pleasure as I lean back, and we look into each other’s eyes.

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