Page 52 of Tricky Princess
“Look at me.” That decided it: she wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.
She squared her shoulders and turned to face him. Ros almost lost his breath as she stood there on strong legs, her dark dress hugging her curves. With her chin held high and her eyes alight with determination, it was enough to undo him. She did look good in Hel, and it made him want to punch his father in the face for giving her a crown to wear. How had he missed it at dinner? What else was he missing? He swallowed. First, he needed to feel her, touch her, anything to calm the roaring beast inside of him.
“We have a lot to discuss,” he said calmly. “I’m not silencing you, but if I don’t take that dress off of you this instant…I may burn this place to the ground.”
“I know.” She looked relieved by his confession. “I’ve been burning since I saw you in the hall, covered in blood, eyes glowing…” She paused, her throat bobbing as he stalked toward her, unable to have any distance between them.
“Did you, now?”
She nodded and arched into him as he leaned toward her.
“Would you have fucked me in that hall, surrounded by the dead and injured?”
Her eyes grew dark, and she inhaled sharply.
One nod and the hardness that was already growing became painful. He ran his nose up the column of her neck, breathing her in before whispering in her ear. “Would it have been hard and fast? Or would we have taken our time, still wrapped around each other while they carried the bodies away?”
“Oh Gods,” she whimpered, closing her eyes. “Both, definitely both.”
“Two times?”
She leaned away from him and looked into his eyes before nodding.
He growled, practically feeling it as heat and need radiated from her. “Don’t magic anything off, I need to destroy something.”
“Not the shoes,” she hissed as he caressed her peaked nipples through the thin fabric. “Florence will kill me.”
He didn’t care who Florence was as he grasped the delicate fabric at the arch of her back and tugged. It made the most wonderful ripping sound, and Ellea let out a shaking breath as the cold air touched her flushed skin. He traced the blush that crept up her neck, inhaling her in again. He felt starved for her—her smell.
“No bra?” he asked, twisting the dress in his hands, trying to not rip into her with his claws or teeth. He tore more fabric and groaned. “No underwear? I don’t know if I’m happy or if I want to spank you for leaving your pussy bare while you walked the halls of this depraved place.”
“Both?” The blush ran from her neck up to her beautiful face. Her freckles contrasted starkly to the pink of her skin.
He would count every freckle, map them in his mind and think about them for the rest of his life.
“Have you been touching yourself while I was trying to get to you?”
She shook her head. “No point.”
He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “You haven’t come in how long?” The question was rhetorical, and he hated himself for how happy he was that he owned all of her orgasms now. “Let me fix that for you, princess.”
Her knees gave out, and Ros was there to catch her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to the bed. Sitting down, he cradled her against his chest for a moment, breathing her in once again as she nuzzled his neck, kissing and biting him. Her hands felt desperate as she clawed to be closer.
“I need you,” she whined.
He pried her off, setting both her legs on either side of him so he could look at her. She was breathtaking. Brushing her hair away from her chest and running his hand up her neck, she looked down at him with a heated stare. She still wore the crown, and he wouldn’t admit how it bothered him in the best way possible.
“You have me,” he said, and she seemed to melt into that answer. He gripped her neck harder, and she answered with a smile, grinding into his lap. “Now, let me watch you ride my hand.”
He made feather-light touches along her back to her round ass, slowly working to where she was soaked against his pants. Where his grip was rough, his other hand searched, reminding himself of every inch of her.
“Gods, you’re wet.”
She leaned back, only anchored by his hand wrapped around her throat; she bared herself to him, and he couldn’t help but stare, greedy at the sight of her wet and wanting.
“Ros,” she whispered around the collar that was his hand.
“You’re so beautiful.” He breathed out the words and swiped a finger through her heated center, trailing it up to her swollen clit. “So beautiful—and all mine.”
