Page 57 of Princess of Pride
“I don’t need to wish. I know,” he says the last word against my neck as the tip of his nose glides along my skin. He presses a kiss under my ear and then sucks on my tender lobe.
Oh god. I shiver as my desire flares again. “It’s not you,” I blurt. “I’ve been deprived of anything sexual for so long, a moth could land on my boob and give me an orgasm.”
He chuckles again. “For a literature major, you have an interesting way with words.”
“You know my major?”
“Former major,” he reminds me and kisses my shoulder. “I know everything about you.”
“You can’t know everything.” Like an idiot, I turn my face his way.
He looks up from where his lips caress my shoulder. Those aqua eyes burn with lust. He cups my cheek and drags me to him for one of his mind-blowing kisses.
I try to pull away. Sort of. And by sort of, I mean, I lean closer. I even try to ignore his hot tongue when it sweeps across my lips begging for entrance. I am in charge here. I could bite him, but he’d like that. I could scream too, but he’d muffle my mouth. I could refuse him and turn away. I really could. I should.
“Open,Cat-fiadhaich,” he says that word again, his tone tender and longing.
I open my mouth to argue, and he uses it to plunge his tongue deep. Hot, sweeping strokes have my core pulsing and my breath racing. Damn him. The sneak!
Bite him. Push him away.I will after one more lick, taste, and tangle. One more. Maybe two.
A moan escapes me as Lachlan uses his expert kissing skills to turn me into mush. My head grows light and tingles dance over my lips.
“Lachlan,” I breathe his name, certain I’m about to black out.
In one swift move, he flips me onto my back on the mattress and pins my wrists above my head with one hand while straddling my hips on his knees. “Don’t you dare pass out on me,” he says in a sweet command. “Look at me, Emery.” His English accent sounds stronger. Nerves? “Give me those light caramel eyes.”
That one word—caramel—pulls me from my oxygen-deprived depths. “You know about that too?” If he calls me Chewy, I’ll die. I open my eyes halfway and try to argue in my weakened state.
His brows tighten for a moment, then he smirks from the corner of his mouth. “I know my kisses cause you to forget to breathe. Makes me wonder…” He kisses my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, and the top of my breasts. “If I were to kiss you here”—he draws a circle with his finger around my dress-covered nipple—“how would it affect you?”
“Wait!” It comes out weaker than intended. “I… I…” Nervousness pushes the cloud in my brain out of the way. “You can’t,” I say, more alert now.
“I can.” His mouth hovers over my nipple, which is puckered under the thin fabric of the dress.
“But…” How do I explain my insecurities about my breasts and how I can’t bear sharing this embarrassing part of myself with someone else?
As if he understands my train of thought, he closes his eyes. “I won’t look, but I’m going to taste you. I’mdyingto.” Longing and desire ring in his voice.
Heat rushes through my veins.
His eyes might be closed, but mine remain open. I watch as his mouth covers my nipple through the fabric of my dress and lace bra.
He sucks hard, soaking through to my skin.
My breath catches, the pleasure making me lightheaded again. Had I known it would feel this good, I might not have been so adamant about over-the-bra hand play in the past.
A trickle of panic sweeps through me at the thought of getting caught. It can’t happen here and with Lachlan—we’re married—but the fear comes anyway. I stiffen.
“Emery, look at me,” Lachlan purrs.
My eyes find his.
Those aqua blues twinkle with a smirk that doesn’t show on his face. I’m thankful for whatever devious scheme he’s planning—anything to keep me in the present.
“Watch.” He orders in a gentle command and unhooks the connecting fabric to my dress. Slowly, he peels away the panels.
A heated blush crawls up my cheeks.
