Page 114 of I'm sorry, Princess
“Look at you.” His voice is rough, filled with desire, his breath warm against my skin. “Fucking dripping for me, and I haven’t even given you my cock yet.”
My skin burns under his touch, my body melting into him as his hands trace down my spine, slow, teasing, deliberate, making me shiver.
I let out a breathless whimper, my lips trailing over his jaw, then lower, to his neck, his shoulder.
I kiss, suck, bite, claiming him the way I know he wants to claim me.
And then, just when I think he might finally give me what I want, he grips my hips, holding me still, torturing me with anticipation.
I gasp, arching against him, and he leans in, his lips brushing against mine.
“You want my cock, princess?”
Yes. Please, yes.
“Take what you want.” His voice is dark, a whispered promise against my ear, making my entire body shiver. His words ignite something inside me, something dangerous, something desperate.
I lift myself off him, my thighs shaking with need, with anticipation, and reach between us, wrapping my hand around him.
He’s huge, thick, hot, and pulsing in my grip. Pre-cum beads at the tip, smearing against my fingers as I stroke him, slow, teasing, drawing a deep growl from his chest.
His blue eyes are locked on me, dark, possessive, and the way he’s looking at me like he owns every part of me makes me even wetter.
The swollen head of his cock presses against my entrance, the stretch already sending waves of pleasure through me.
I exhale sharply and slowly lower myself onto him, taking him inch by inch, my body burning, tightening, trembling as he fills me.
I moan, my fingers digging into his broad shoulders as I push down, deeper, deeper, until he’s fully inside me, stretching me in a way that makes my eyes roll back.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, his hands gripping my ass, fingers digging into my skin, keeping me exactly where he wants me.
I pant against his lips, adjusting to his size, my nails scratching lightly down his chest.
“Now ride me.”
A command.
A challenge.
I move.
Slowly at first, savoring every inch of him, rolling my hips, grinding against him, letting my clit rub against the rough muscles of his stomach.
The feeling is intoxicating.
His hands tighten on my ass, guiding my movements, pushing me harder, deeper.
I pick up the pace, bouncing on his cock, my ass slapping against his thighs, the sound echoing through the room.
“That’s it, princess,” he growls, his head falling back against the couch, his jaw clenched, his eyes hungry, wild.
I moan, louder than I should, but I don’t care.
I feel drunk on him, on the way he stretches me, fills me, ruins me.
His hands slide up my back, gripping my waist, controlling my pace, guiding me deeper, rougher, harder.
“So fucking perfect,” he mutters, his voice wrecked, his breath ragged as he watches me fall apart on top of him.
