Page 30 of Prince of Control
Baron has the skill and confidence of a man who’s had a hundred lovers. And I hate all of them.
Except the moment his tongue makes contact with my lady bits, I’m grateful for his skill. He traces my inner lips, sucks the outer ones. He finds my clit and laves it with his tongue.
I cry out, tension building. My inner thighs shake and tighten against his shoulders.
He takes his time, dropping to his knees to improve the angle, penetrating me with his tongue. When he manages to suck my clit, it’s too much. I rock my hips, pressing my wet heat into his face for more.
But then some part of me doesn’t want to shatter. I don’t want him to succeed. I need to maintain my strength.
“How many?” I demand.
He lifts his head, his mouth glossy with my juices and raises his brows in question.
“How many women have you…done that with?”
His lips twitch with faint amusement, but then his expression returns to the serious, inscrutable one he usually gives me. He slowly rises, and I regret my interruption. I want his mouth back on me, teasing me, winding me up to orgasm.
He steps in close, and I start to sit up. “Ah ah,” he tuts.
I freeze, caught in his commanding brown gaze, then ease back down to my forearms.
“Good girl.” He rewards me by sliding the pad of his middle finger through my juices. He continues the slow glide, up and down along my slit, then dipping into my entrance. “You want to know how many submissives I’ve mastered?”
Do I? Part of me feels a little sick about it. But the rest of me needs to know.
My indecision is made worse by his full penetration with two fingers. He curls them into me, stroking inside, setting me on fire. “Wait.”
I’m going to come, but I don’t want to. I can’t take the vulnerability. Or giving Baron the win.
I start to sit up, but he distracts me by pumping quickly, the tips of his fingers hitting the place that drives me wild every time.
“Baron–”
“Take your finger-fuck and show me how you let go when you come.” His voice has a stern, commanding tone he hasn’t used with me before.
I squirm on the dresser. “I can’t–”
“Take it, or I’ll turn you back over and spank you until you scream.”
The threat breaks something apart inside me. The orgasm rips through me without warning, and I spasm around his fingers, crying out in surprise.
He stops pumping his fingers and holds them inside me, his warm palm molding to cup my mons. The heel of his hand presses against my clit, wringing even more of a release from me.
“Gospodi!”
“Mmm. That was pretty.” Baron starts slowly fucking me with his middle finger, while keeping the heel of his hand against my clit. “You took it so well, malyshka.”
I’m panting, the spinning room starts to right itself again. As it does, awareness of the fact that I was the one who came undone while he stayed fully dressed and in control creeps in.
I don’t like the gash of vulnerability that cuts across my chest.
Baron must read sense my exposure because he slips his fingers out of me, loops an arm behind my back and pulls me up to straddle his waist. “Come on. Let’s get in the shower.”
A shower sounds good, so I don’t protest. There’s something easy about letting Baron take charge, especially because he has an uncanny sense of what I need in the moment. Like the way he commented on the ride home that we should get some food in me before the champagne went to my head. He’s good at reading me and responding to what he sees, and there’s relief in that.
I let him carry me to the bathroom where he sets me down and pulls my top off over my head. I unbutton his shirt as I kick off my boots.
This is fine, I tell myself. I deserve some good sex. It doesn’t mean I’ve accepted Baron or our marriage.
