Page 91 of Pawn of the Cruel Princess
The Princess pulls her mouth off me and wipes her lips with her fingers. “I’d like to cut you, just here.” She draws with her nail on my lower belly, about a finger’s length above the base of my cock. “And here—here—also here.” She touches places on my abdomen, my inner thighs. “I’ll write my name in your skin.” Her fingertips glide along the muscled ledge of my hip.
I groan, shutting my eyes.
Ruelle rises, cups my shoulders, and presses me down to my knees in the straw. She’s gaining confidence. Good.
“When this is over, your Highness, I’m going to punishyou,” I tell her hoarsely.
“And how will you do that, thrall?” She cups my jaw, stroking my scruff. I’ve noticed she likes me unshaven.
“I’m going to lick you until you’re quivering on the edge, and then I’ll leave you there, unsatisfied. I’ll do that over and over until when I finally let you come, you’ll nearly pass out from the pleasure.”
She catches me by the throat again, squeezing. “Only if I let you.” But her cheeks are rose-colored, hot and soft. I crave them. I have to kiss them.
“You’ll beg me for it, Princess.” I run my tongue across my lips.
A soft inhale from her, and her blush deepens. She reaches down, wrapping her fingers around my length as I kneel before her.
She holds my cock for a moment, as if she likes the feel of it in her hand. “I would like to use this.”
“Use any part of me. Do anything you want. I’m yours.” I say it fervently, so she’ll know I’m not merely being a dutiful thrall.
“Stay just like that, upright on your knees.” She pulls the crimson tunic off, over her head, and drops it in the straw.
Whenever she is naked before me, I forget every other woman’s body I’ve ever seen. No one exists but her. I can’t picture anything better than those lovely pert breasts of hers, the exquisite swerve of her waist to her hips, the luscious strength of her thighs. I want to nuzzle into the sweet cleft between her legs. My palms itch to run along her beautiful skin, down those perfect calves. Every finger of hers needs to be tucked between my lips, sucked well and then wrapped around my length.
I’m a second away from breaking down before her. Worshiping her, begging her, pleading with her to fuck me.
So of course I try to joke.
“The Second Princess of Thannira, getting naked in a cell that stinks of piss and shell-rats?” I force a grin.
“Shut up, thrall.” She tangles her hand in my hair, jerks my head back, kisses my mouth hard. Her tongue slides softly and wetly over mine. With her other hand she reaches down and rakes her nails across my breast. My cock twitches again, and I whimper into her mouth. Fuck. I’ve never made such a sound in my life.
She pulls back, delight and surprise on her face. And then she turns around, goes down on all fours, and backs herself up to my cock.
“Oh gods,” I breathe. I can see everything. Her round, creamy ass cheeks, the beautiful pink lips between them, and that perfect small slit, shining wet for me.
I can’t touch her. Can’t move forward any farther. This is all her.
She reaches around, tucks the tip of me into her opening. Eases backward, taking me in.
I groan, loud and long, at the exquisite feel of her. She’s so warm, tight, and slippery. And I have no control. Thrills race through my cock, building quickly as she nestles me deeper inside. But I turn my thoughts to dark things, sorrows of my past. I will last as long as I need to, for her.
Ruelle sighs with satisfaction as she settles her bottom against my hips and stomach, impaling herself thoroughly on me. “You feel so good,” she whispers.
“You are divine,” I whisper back.
She braces herself on one toned arm, her fingers tending between her legs. And then she begins rocking forward and back, finding an angle and rhythm that suits her.
Helpless, panting, I let my Princess fuck herself on me. I love the swell of her bottom, and the little divots just above it, on either side of her spine. I love the edges of her shoulder blades, the lithe strength of her arms. I love the way her braid swings as she rocks onto my dick.
“By Arawn,” she moans. “Why do you feel this good inside me?”
“Don’t stop,” I beg.
“Never, never. I won’t ever stop,” she gasps, slamming her rear against me. “Gods, gods—ah, Ducayne, I’m so—I’m—”
“Come on me, beautiful,” I tell her raggedly. “Come on my cock.”
