Page 80 of Princess of Pride
My head falls to the side. How can he be so demanding at times and then be this gentle?
Why do I like it so much?
He unbuttons the lace dress and slides it down to my elbows, leaving me in the slip.
“If we talk about it, I won’t be horny anymore,” I murmur, my eyes closing as he kisses a featherlight path to my shoulder.
“Leave that to me.” He slides the strap down my arm. “You taste like honey.”
I use a honey-almond and cashmere infused lotion. I love the smell and have never cared if anyone else did—until now.
His large hand runs up my torso over the silk and cups my breasts. “What made you run to the cliffs?” he whispers into the crook of my neck.
Shivers race across my skin. “I’ll tell you after.”
“Before, Emery, or nothing.”
Anger heats my flushed body. He doesn’t have to know my worst secret to pleasure me. “It’s nothing you’d care about.”
“Anything that has you that upset is my concern.”
“Why?” I snap, even as his thumb grazes my sensitive nipple. They don’t hurt like before, but they’re tender in a way that heightens the feeling of his touch.
He rubs my clit through the silk, drawing a moan from my lips. “We don’t have to discuss it; you just have to tell me.”
Just tell him. He moves his hand to my left breast. It’s more sensitive than the other, and when he flicks my nipple then massages it, I almost moan. Damn him for making me want this so badly. Damn me for resisting him earlier.
He sucks on my neck, one hand fondling my nipple while the other rubs my clit.
“Fine.” I can barely speak over my heavy breathing. “I found out… my mom isn’t my birth mom… that I had a twin.” I pant. “And that… my real mom is… dead.”
He pauses for a moment, caught off guard. “Good girl. Now get on the desk.” He sweeps his hand across one side of the massive wood furniture, sending the paper, medallion, pen, and even a small lamp crashing to the floor.
I gasp and flinch but am spun around and sat on the surface too quickly to react more. Lachlan’s eyes blaze with anger and desire. He yanks the dress and slip to my waist, freeing my large breasts, and puts his hand on my neck, guiding me to lie down. I go slowly, aware of his firm grip. He won’t choke me. I don’t think.
Once I’m on my back, he uses both hands to shove my dress up, seeing I’m only wearing a strapless C-string adhesive thong.
“You can’t wear regular underwear with this dress,” I explain.
His nostrils flare as he peels the thong from my skin. He removes his suit jacket, shoves my skirt to my waist, and tugs me to the edge of the desk. Then he lowers to his knees and hooks my legs over his shoulders, his mouth hovering at my bare sex.
I watch as he blows on me down there.
“Is this what you want?”
I nod, in awe over seeing him like this—seeing myself like this.
“Be a good girl and watch me lick you dry.” He laps at my clit first then my entire slit.
My breath hitches, and I shiver again.
“Sweet as sunshine.” He licks me again and thrusts his tongue into me at a slow pace that is as erotic to see as it is to feel. His eyes close, and he works me faster, licking inside and outside and on my clit like Iamhis freaking dessert. A dessert he loves.
My head falls back, and I lose myself to the desire twisting deep inside me. Goosebumps cover my flesh. I feel hypersensitive, aware of the desk at my back, the cold air on my skin, his hot hands gripping my thighs, and his mouth devouring me. He opens his eyes and catches mine that are closed more than they are open. As if compelling me to watch, he sucks on my clit and bites it. Something shoves inside me—his fingers? He pumps them faster, harder, and sucks on my clit again. I am gone, overloaded by what this man is doing to me, tingly and lightheaded, consumed with building pleasure. Am I even breathing?
My insides draw in like the tide then crash from me in an explosive release. I scream, clench my fists, arch my back. It lasts longer than the last time. I feel weightless. Lost.
I blink my eyes open. My body feels heavy and weak.
