Page 122 of Falling Princess

I opened to him, shaky and clutching at him with desperate strength. Lorcan’s tongue curled gently into my mouth. I chased it into his. He grunted and locked his arm around my waist, crushing me against him. I made enough space between our bodies to grab his shirt.

“Off,” I whispered, pulling it up to reveal his stomach. Lorcan let me work it over his shoulders before he moved back one step, crossed his arms and took it the rest of the way.

Heat explodes through me. Perfect. He’s so finely made, all muscle and sinew with sharp bones at the base of his throat. Marked with everything we’ve put him through, by everything he’s given.

For me. To keep me alive.

He pauses at the sight of my clothing-strewn study, breathing hard, before saying, “We’re not doing this, Princess.”

I groaned. “Seriously, Lorcan?”

His gaze fell to my chest. He drags it back up to my face with a helpless expression. Lorcan’s throat worked as he swallowed thickly.

“Fuck.”

“That’s the idea.”

He murmured something against my neck. I was so lust-addled that I could only cling to his shifting shoulders while memorizing the way his body moved against mine.

“We can’t do this. You know that. We have to stop.”

“You first, Lorcan.”

He made a desperate sound, wrapped his arms around my bottom and lifted me onto the bed. I grinned against his shoulder. The instant my ass hit the mattress he was on me, hands and mouth on my bare breasts, his hair a tickling whisper on my sensitive skin. There was nothing to stop him from consuming every inch of me.

Lorcan reared back, breathing hard.

“Make me stop.”

“Don’t stop. Please.”

His weight pressed me into the bedclothes. I clutched his butt through his jeans, encouraging him to lay on top of me. Three layers of cloth between me and what I need. My soaked panties, his underwear, and one thick layer of denim that did nothing to conceal his hard length. I swear I see time in technicolor behind my eyes when he grinds against me.

Lorcan sucked my nipple between his teeth. I arched into his mouth with a broken moan. The sound he makes is half pleasure, half need, and completely feral. He didn’t stop.

Nor did he take things further. He moved to the other side and dragged his tongue over my nipple. I whined and writhed. He tried not to grind against my leg.

“Come here,” I whispered, pulling him upward. Slowly, I snaked my hand down between our bodies. The head of his cock poked out the waistband of his jeans. Lorcan shuddered when I stroked my thumb over the head.

“Do you like this?”

His answer was a wordless inhale and a needy thrust. I worked the button free and pushed the fabric down over his narrow hips, freeing him. He didn’t protest. I didn’t stop.

I squeezed the length of him, marveling at the feeling. His entire body was taut and trembling. I tried to stroke him but the angle was too awkward and I have no idea what I’m doing.

“How do I…?”

He exhaled against my shoulder. Propping himself on one arm, he covered my hand with his and pressed into it. Hot silk and steel.

“Fuck, Zosia, yourhand…” He groaned.

I squeezed a little tighter. My pulse galloped as he swelled impossibly hard. He ground helplessly against me, burying his face in my hair. It didn’t last long. Fisted the coverlet rhythmically at my side, his abdomen tightening with each terse thrust of his narrow hips. Hot puffs of breath against my skin. A low moan tore out of him.

Unexpectedly, warm liquid streaked my stomach.

I’m not sure why I was so surprised. I know, technically, what’s supposed to happen. Experience is different from knowledge, though. I’m shocked I did that to him, and so quickly.

Lorcan made a choked sound, then collapsed beside me.

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