Page 131 of I'm sorry, Princess
“Are you hungry?” His voice is low and rough, dragging along the air like smoke. He leans lazily against the kitchen counter, bruised knuckles resting beside him, a fresh cut along his jawline that only makes him look more dangerous, more devastatingly gorgeous.
“Yes,” I breathe out, but I’m not talking about food.
The music floats through the house like silk “Often” by The Weeknd wrapping around us with sinful promise, every beat vibrating through my skin. Of course this song is playing. He probably has a playlist for when he’s thinking about ruining me, even when he’s not home.
His gaze drags over me like heat. I feel scorched, stripped bare even though I’m still half dressed. His eyes stop at my chest, and slowly, teasingly, I trail my fingers up over my breasts, my breath hitching as I pinch one nipple, then the other. I slide my top off like it’s nothing, because it is nothing compared to the way his eyes devour me.
I leave the skirt on. No panties. They’re probably still lost somewhere in the backseat of his car, along with my sanity.
Three days without him, and my body is on edge. I can’t breathe without thinking about the last time he touched me. The way he pulled back just before I came in the car… It was torture. And now, every nerve in me is pulsing, hungry, aching.
I close the space between us.
His shirt, stained with dried blood, stretched over hard muscle, has to go. I lift it up, my palms grazing over his abs, and his breath hitches. His whole body tightens as I trace the lines inked into his skin. His tattoos. His scars. His story. My fingers press kisses onto every one of them before my mouth follows.
His hand wraps around the back of my neck, firm but not forceful, just enough to make my pulse throb faster. I want to please him. I want him to need me the way I need him, like oxygen, like fire.
I undo his belt with trembling fingers, proud of the way his cock is already hard beneath his briefs. He hisses when I run my hand over him, and it sends a ripple of power down my spine.
“Let me take care of this,” I whisper, breathless, eyes locked on his.
He steps out of his jeans, and when I pull down his boxer briefs, his cock springs free, thick, heavy, perfect. My lips part. My mouth waters. Desire coils low in my belly, hot and deep.
“I’ve never done this before,” I admit softly, vulnerable but not afraid.
His hand tilts my chin up. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them.
“Suck my cock, Serena,” he says, voice gravel and thunder. “Nice and slow. Let me see those pretty lips wrapped around me.”
My heart pounds. His thumb brushes over my mouth, and I kiss it, sucking him in gently as I hold his gaze. He groans low and deep, a sound I feel between my thighs.
I lick the crown, tasting him, letting my tongue tease him with slow strokes as I wrap my hand around his base. He's so big I can barely fit him in one hand. My mouth stretches to take him in, inch by inch. I move slow, deliberate, swirling my tongue as I go.
“Fuck, princess…” he growls, fingers tightening in my hair.
His praise makes me bolder.
My eyes water as I try to take more of him, my jaw aching from the effort. He strokes my cheek with his thumb, tender even in the tension.
“Breathe through your nose,” he murmurs. “That’s it… deeper.”
He doesn’t force. He guides. And I want to give him everything.
Tears slip down my cheeks, mixing with the heat between us. Mascara smeared, lips swollen, I’m a mess forhim, and he loves it. His voice drops again, rough and wrecked.
“That’s it. Choke on it for me, baby.”
The ache in my core is unbearable. I clench my thighs, desperate for friction, for release. He’s not touching me there, but I’m already close.
He brushes my cheek again, lifting my chin, and I see the pride in his eyes, the possession. I’ve never felt so desired, so utterly owned. And I like it. No, I crave it.
“Such a good girl,” he says, breathless.
And I melt under the praise.
His grip in my hair tightens, guiding me with firm control, and I feel every slow, deliberate thrust of his body as he moves against my mouth. My jaw aches, my cheeks are flushed, and my breath trembles through my nose. I’m a mess, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes, heat pulsing between my thighs, my lips stretched wide as I try to take more of him, deeper, just to hear him groan again.
“You take my cock so well,” he growls, voice like gravel wrapped in silk, and it sends a tremor down my spine. His other hand caresses my cheek as if he’s grounding me, balancing out the force with tenderness. I’ve never felt this, the way he unravels me, the way he watches like he owns me, like I belong to him in this exact moment.
