Page 159 of Charming Deception

“And I love the view from the balcony. You chose it for me, didn’t you? Because I’m a virgin in Paris.”

A tiny groan lodges in his throat. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Like what?”

“Sex words.”

“Did I?” I purr.

“Yes. Don’t. It’s bad enough reading your books.”

“Why?”

He swallows, hard.

I love these rare moments when we get our flirt on and his desire for me burns through whatever pretense of respectability and manners he keeps trying to uphold all the damn time, like I’m the freaking crown princess and he doesn’t want to sully me with his dirty thoughts.

“I just…” He stares at me.

I stare right back.

“We shouldn’t.” His thumb traces my cheekbone like he’s hypnotized by the features of my face. “We can’t…”

None of those words make any sense to me.

The music has switched to a song by Amy Shark called “Adore” that I freaking adore, and holy Christ… it’s making lust pound through my body.

He’s making lust pound through my body.

His hands are hot on my face, his whole body is hot and hard beneath mine, and I slither against him slowly, grinding my hips. I can feel how hard he is when my pelvis drags against his, my pussy rubbing against the thick, unyielding ridge of his penis.

I can feel my heartbeat between my legs and in the base of my throat.

He’s long, and the swollen tip of his cock feels plump and soft as I nudge against it.

God, I want to lick it.

I realize I’ve muttered something to that effect when he makes a growling sound, low in his throat. I can’t even tell if it’s more pleasure or pain. Or just the effort of his never-ending restraint starting to suffocate him.

Whatever it is, I like it.

“Please kiss me again,” I breathe, and then we are kissing, deep and wet, and I’m swimming in the song, in the champagne, in the heat of his hands on my face.

“Tell me what you meant,” he whispers between all the lush, hot kisses. “About that freak thing…”

“You know. I want to do so many things with you.” Maybe his restraint makes me feel safe to say it, but I feel no shame or hesitation.

“What things?” His voice is low and hungry, a restrained whisper.

“All kinds.” I shift my hips, dragging myself against his hard length again. “You asked if I like spankings. My answer is yes. In theory. But I’ve never been spanked before. I’ve never been manhandled or had my hair pulled or been choked, but I’d let you do all those things and more.” I catch his mouth again and kiss the horny hell out of him as the space between us vanishes, our clothes growing hot and damp as we strain together.

He kisses me and kisses me, but he never ventures away from my mouth. He never touches my breasts, even though they’re readily available through the gaping holes of my shirt.

His strong hands slide down my back to my ass, grip my cheeks, but don’t venture under my nightshirt, much less under my panties.

His cock strains, hard as steel against the softness of my pussy, but he doesn’t grind against me.

And just as things are getting so hot I know I could drive myself to orgasm by dry humping his massive dick through our sweaty clothes… he lifts me and sets me gently aside, detaching me fully from his body with a growl.

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