Page 93 of The Heir's Bargain

The corner of his lip quirked up. His teeth scraped across his bottom lip. "As tempting as it would be for you to watch me beat off, I have other plans."

Releasing his cock, he sunk lower. His fingers danced across the fabric of the slip, running up and down my ribcage, sending spikes of ice-cold shivers coursing through my body.

"Have I mentioned yet how much I love this slip?" His voice was low, hungry, and unlike any of his voices I was used to.

But I was rendered speechless as he pushed the slip up and over my hips, the fabric rubbing against my overly sensitive skin. Heat bloomed between my thighs. I should have felt self-conscious; I should have felt uncomfortable. But when he licked his lips, the hunger in his gaze palpable, the need between my thighs only increased.

"Gods, Dani, you are beautiful."

My fingers dug deeper into his shoulders. It felt too intimate, too close. We were already crossing the line as it was. I had sex plenty of times before, but it was just sex and nothing more. During extended training camps, we had little time for anything else. It was quick and straightforward, not explorative. Not like this.

And it most definitely never felt as if we had been starved of each other for decades.

But right now, I was starving.

"Fynn," I begged, raising my hips.

His head dropped, the fallen locks of hair hiding his features. He released my hands. Then, he was crawling up my body, his hand slipping between my legs. As he trailed his fingers up my inner thigh, my legs parted for him. He rubbed a finger over my clit. "Shit, Dani," he said.

"What happened to that royal vocabulary?"

Fynn huffed a laugh. "No time for it when you feel like this."

His lips met mine, and there was nothing sweet or light about this kiss. Not as he worked me, circling my sex. I released a strangled moan, unable to hold it back. He might not have been able to read my mind, but he found the rhythm and pattern I preferred quickly.

I arched, craving more of his touch.

This meant nothing, I told myself.

It was just two people blowing off steam?—

I groaned, my head pressing into the pillow. My nails dug into his shoulders as his fingers continued to work. He was already bringing me to the edge. "I need?—"

He dipped a finger inside me and then pulled it out too soon. He spread the slickness around, teasing me, asking, "You need what, Ferrios?"

Moaning, I squeezed my eyes shut. "You."

Chuckling, he rubbed his cock against my folds, circling me and driving me insane. When I thought I was going to have to beg again, he pushed the tip inside. He was gentle and slow and sweet. When he slipped his length out, I shivered and bucked my hips.

He forced me back down with a hand against my stomach. He leaned closer, his scruff brushing the side of my neck as he nibbled a spot beneath my ear. Another shiver raced down my spine as my back arched higher.

Chestnut hair fell in a halo around Fynn's face, casting shadows across his features. "Since you won't bring your shields down for me, tell me, Ferrios, do you want it slow or hard?"

He slipped inside me, and at first, it was slow, but then he slammed the rest of his length into me. My back arched further, his breath hot against my throat.

"Hard." The word was no more than a whisper on my tongue, but he heard it nevertheless.

And for once, the Crown Prince listened.

With the tip at my entrance, he thrust. He wasn't sweet or gentle about it; he was rough and hard.

Because this was just sex. It wasn't supposed to be gentle or loving.

We weren't supposed to be taking our time or whispering sweet nothings into one another's ears.

At that moment, we were not friends; we were not lovers. We were something else. And whatever we were, it wasn't sweet, it wasn't soft.

It was hard, fast, and quick.

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