Page 33 of Prisoner of the Lycan Prince

I fumbled for my waistband, but my hands shook too badly. A cry of frustration broke from me as I failed to slide my yoga pants down my hips.

Cursing under his breath, Einar returned to the bed and brushed my hands away. He stripped the soft material down my legs and flung my yoga pants aside. After a moment’s hesitation, he gave my panties the same treatment, leaving me nude except for the flimsy camisole.

Cool air hit my sodden pussy, the faint caress wrenching another cry from me as I spread my legs and reached for my clit.

“Fuck,” Einar muttered, staggering back from the bed. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the chair, and he stumbled and caught himself. Gaze on me, he gripped the chair’s arm and dragged the massive piece of furniture to the foot of the bed. He sat, his amber stare pinned between my thighs. Then he started giving orders.

“Use your juices,” he rasped. “Slick yourself. Get your clit nice and wet.”

I moaned as I complied, running my fingers down my folds and collecting the silky moisture before stroking back to my clit and rubbing in tight, fast circles. My thighs fell wide, and my hips rocked as my release hovered just out of reach.

“Harder,” Einar said. “You’re almost there.”

Desire climbed, rushing me toward an apex. But just as I reached the summit, relief flitted away. “I can’t come,” I gasped, fear mounting.

“Yes, you can,” Einar said, resting one hand on the top of his thigh. He curled his fingers into a fist, his knuckles instantly white. His eyes were a bright, eerie gold as he fixed his stare between my legs. I continued rubbing, my fingers almost too slick against my feverish flesh.

Einar growled long and low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me. “Use both hands. Open yourself.”

My breathing grew ragged as I struggled to obey, my fingers slipping as I used my thumb and forefinger to part my labia. His stare was like a brand, his gaze burning from my clit to my opening, which gaped lewdly now that I held it open. The scent of my arousal teased my nostrils, mixing with Einar’s addictive essence. I dug my teeth into my bottom lip to keep from begging for him to pull the chair closer so I could drown in the leather and forest that clung to him.

“There you go,” he growled, his deep voice yanking me from my runaway thoughts. “Spread your legs more. Knees flat on the bed. That’s it. Now slide two fingers into your pussy. Go as deep as you can.”

The barked rush of orders was like a lit match dropped onto the dry kindling of my desire. My back bowed, and my lips parted on a breathy moan. I obeyed, thrusting two fingers deep into my core.

“That’s it,” he said, approval thick in his voice. “All the way inside. Now fuck yourself with your fingers, Harper. In and out. All the way to the third knuckle. Don’t stop until I say.”

My face heated, but I didn’t hesitate. Legs splayed wide, I pumped my fingers into my pussy, fucking my own hand. Thick, wet smacks lifted around the bed, the scandalous sounds mingling with my low whimpers.

Einar leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his golden gaze locked on my sex. “Good girl. That is one soaking wet pussy, sweetheart. Your fingers are glistening. Keep fucking yourself.”

My cries turned to moans. My hips bucked. But it wasn’t enough. “Please,” I rasped, finding Einar’s gaze.

His eyes burned like twin suns as he held my stare. “Please, what?”

“Let me touch my clit. Please.” Somehow, I knew I needed to ask. The game we played had unwritten rules, and that was one of them.

Einar stayed silent for a moment, his expression neutral as I continued plunging my fingers in and out of my opening. Then, in a voice like gravel, he asked, “Have you earned it?”

I moaned, my hips bucking harder. My orgasm was right there, my release within reach. It coiled inside me like a snake. “Yes,” I said through clenched teeth, my whole body flushed and wanting. “Yes. I have to come. Please let me come.”

Einar ran his eyes down my body, his otherworldly gaze taking in every trembling inch of skin between my neck and my toes. “Show me, then. Be a good girl and make yourself come.”

With a wild cry, I moved my fingers to my clit. Two quick, furious circles and I was done, my orgasm breaking over me in a kaleidoscope of sensation and color. White-hot lust struck like a whip, lifting my hips from the mattress as I screamed my release. My vision dimmed, the world narrowing to the blurry pair of golden eyes observing me from the foot of the bed.

On and on my release went, delicious warmth sweeping me. One orgasm slid into the next. Through it all, the golden eyes never left me.

Eventually, the frenzy faded. Reality intruded, and I sprawled on my back, my body sheened with sweat and my heart thumping as I tried to catch my breath. Everything between my legs was swollen and hot. Little aftershocks rippled through me. The overwhelming lust was gone, my need satiated. Chilly air coasted over my body, raising goosebumps on my skin. My bare skin.

And Einar sat at the foot of the bed, observing everything like he’d bought a front-row ticket to a private show.

I scrambled upright, jerking the rumpled comforter over my lower half as I went. Embarrassment crashed through me like someone dumping a bucket of ice water over my head.

Einar stood, his eyebrows pulling together. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, my voice hoarse from screaming the ceiling down. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Blood rushed in my ears as I tightened my grip on the comforter and clambered from the bed. I wrapped the heavy fabric around me like a toga and stood on shaky legs. My hair fell over my shoulders in a tangled mess—because I’d just writhed half-naked on the bed while Einar talked me through an orgasm.

He gave me an inscrutable look, his eyes silver once more. An aura of impatience huddled around him, as if he’d been roped into an unpleasant task and couldn’t wait to finish. “The desire went away?” he asked.

---