Page 59 of Princess Broken

Until I’m safely outside this place, I need these men to believe that they owe me.

“I’d like to try some other firsts,” he says. “Tell me, what do you like?”

“Like?”

“What would you like me to do to you? How can I best give you pleasure?”

I gasp. My mind races with dark and delicious thoughts, dirty things I’ve only glimpsed from my peripheral vision, but then it goes blank, blurring. Too many possibilities running too quickly for me to focus on one thing.

“I want you to…” I manage to say, on a thready breath. “I want you to do whatever you want.”

Growling, he pulls the dress up over my head and tosses it out the open door of the shower. Then he reaches for a control knob. Water pours down over him, splashing against me.

Pulling me forward from the tiled wall, he moves us both under the stream of water, and then, taking me under the arms, he lifts me. Acting on instinct, my legs wrap around his torso, trying to grip onto his slick, muscled body as we come face to face.

The shower’s water massages my back and slides over the rest of me as I stare into his eyes for so long I feel like I’ve moved inside him. I can no longer focus. I’m lightheaded, flying in the vast blue sky of Flame’s eyes.

Closing my eyes to recover, I stretch my head forward to kiss him, but his lips stiffen against mine. I pull back. I’ve made a terrible mistake. But his hand seizes my head, holding our lips together.

Our mouths are barely touching, but it’s delicious and electric, and stimulating beyond my wildest imagination, making me desperate for more.

My tongue flicks out against his tense lips. Flame moans and his lips part, deepening our kiss. His lips are no longer still and stiff, and his mouth roves ravenously over mine. I thread my fingers into his hair and tentatively slide my tongue into his open mouth. Timur kissed me this way—with his tongue—and while the intrusion of my former blood partner’s tongue was unexpected at first, I discovered I liked it.

I like doing it with Flame even better. His tongue is thick and hot and strong and fills my mouth when he plunges.

He pulls back. “Another first,” he says.

I shake my head. “I’ve kissed with tongues before.”

“No,” he grins. “First for me. You’re the first woman I’ve ever kissed on the lips.”

“No, I’m not.” I expect him to laugh, to tell me it’s a joke, but his eyes reveal the truth. “I’m the first woman you’ve kissed? Ever? Really?”

He nods, and then presses his lips softly against mine. “You need to teach me,” he says against my lips, the words like feathers setting off tiny sparks of delight. Then he presses a series of soft kisses against my lips, lighting little fires, each one better than the last.

“Let me know if I’m doing it wrong.”

I sigh. “What you’re doing is—”

He takes my lower lip between his, tugging it forward, before letting it go.

“What you’re doing is perfect,” I say against his lips, hoping the gentle movement of my words will feel as good for him as his words did against mine. It’s not like I’ve got much kissing experience, but what we’ve done so far has felt great.

“Perfect?” Leaning back from me, he winks. “I’ve always heard that practice makes perfect.”

“That sounds like an excellent strategy.”

Turning his head, he fully captures my lips with his, kissing me with more force this time, and our lips part as our tongues explore, tasting and testing, before fully sliding against each other in the secret space we’ve created between us. And as his tongue strokes mine, my desire to have another part of him inside me grows.

Using my heels against his back for leverage, I rub my naked sex against his body, desperately seeking his hardness. My body drops slightly, and the head of his member nudges my butt cheek.

He groans into my mouth, and then he breaks our kiss. He carries me to the other end of the shower room, and sets my feet down on the bench there. Quickly, he turns off some showerheads, and turns another lever. Soft, rain-like water falls everywhere in the shower room, falling from thousands of holes in the ceiling. It’s like a summer shower is falling everywhere.

Perched on the bench, I’m now a few inches taller than him, and as he watches me, water paints his body with rivulets of lucky, lucky moisture. His gaze rakes over and over my body, moving from my ankles to my chin and then down again. And his eyes repeat this movement several times, his attention licking me like fire.

“Take me,” I say breathless. “Do whatever you want to me.”

“I want to taste you,” he says, his voice deep, his tone curious. “I want to taste all of you. Not just your lips and your breasts—not just your blood. I need to discover how every inch of you tastes, how you feel in my hands and against my mouth. I want to claim every part of your body with my fingers, with my lips, with my tongue—and then—then I’ll take you hard, with my cock.”

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