Page 34 of Princess of Thieves

“You like how wet I get you,” he murmurs, thrusting in and out in a rough rhythm, his palm pumping against my entrance as he does. “You’re dripping down my hand.”

“I...” Stars wheel in my vision. My hips arch toward him, needing this, needing him.

“Say it,” he barks.

“I l-like it,” I stammer, barely mewling out the last syllable as he swirls a long, hard stroke inside me. “I like how...how fuckingwetyou get me.”

LJ, finally, lets out a moan of his own, raw and primal, which only sends another surge through me to drench his fingers. He lets go of my hair and—to my harsh disappointment—withdraws his hand from my legs.

“Bend over for me.” His hands are flying down his button and zipper, his jaw tight as he speaks. “Now, Princess. Don’t make me fucking wait.”

“I...” I push a loose hank of hair behind my ear. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I don’t quite know where he wants me. Like, feet on the ground, bent over the bed, or—

“You fucking cocktease,” he growls. “Here.”

Strong hands grab my hips and pull me into place, bent on all fours in front of him, then wrap around me to roll my aching nipples between his fingers. A low, rolling shudder erupts from deep in my throat as the sensation crests across my bare skin.

Then, almost without warning, he slams into me.

Stars. I see stars. And again, brighter, his hips driving against me. I’m full, stretched tight almost to the point of ache, and yet it feels...

A yelp escapes my lips as his right hand tucks around my hip and finds my clit.

“That’s it,” I hear him say. “Tell me what you feel, Princess. Tell me how good that cock feels inside you.”

Goddamn. The low rumble of his voice, and those words,those words, and I can’t...I can barely...

“S-so thick,” I choke, almost slurring my speech. I’m spiraling, drowning, lost to oblivion as he takes me like this, claims me.

“More.” He removes his hand, holding me steady by my left hip now. “Tell me more.”

No,I want to cry, I want to beg for him to touch me again, but now he’s wrapping his right hand in my hair, pulling, pullinghard, and the tight strain is too distracting, my neck arched too tight. With his left hand, he grinds me against him, roughly yanking my hips to an angle that lets him plunge even deeper, and I sputter again, unable to find words, unable to focus on anything but the way my body is screaming in response.

He’s so close that I can hear the harsh exhales and the raggedness in his breath, the way it catches as he drives into me.

And then his voice is back, his mouth almost brushing my ear.

“I can feel you,” he says, “you’re so fucking close. But you’re not there, are you, Princess? You’re not there until I tell you. And you’re not going to get to come until you tell me how much you love it when I take you like this.”

I want to, want to find the words, but all I can do is choke out another low moan as his fingers find my clit and start moving, rubbing me hard.

“Yes,” I hear him groan. “You like that. I can feel it.” Another swift, sure pull of my hair. “Tell me how much you like it.”

“I...” I’m panting now, trying to hold on, to hold it back, but my body is too hot, too alive, every inch of me buzzing and thrumming with need.

“Tell me,” he growls again, and this time the pull is tighter, his thrusts are rougher, and it’s so fuckinggood.

“I like it,” I manage. “I love it.”

He says nothing in response, just growls. “What do you want, Princess?”

“I w-want...” I stammer, unable to form a coherent fucking thought, too lost in his every stroke. “I want...want...y-you to...please...”

“Pleasewhat?” He releases my hair, a flood of light pain tingling over my scalp, and clamps both massive hands onto my hips, so hard the flesh is pressing into bone.

“Please—oh...fuck.” The words are a low, strangled sound. Each thrust rams me hard enough to bruise, and yet it’s not enough. “Please let me come. I-I need it, I need...”

He groans and reaches down to grab a handful of my hair again, dragging my head back with a savage pull. “Then come,” he orders me. “Right. Fucking. Now.”

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