Page 53 of Dare

Everyone in The Dark Seasons feared the Prince of Winter. And just as many wanted to get fucked by him. Yet right here, I was the only thing he saw, felt, held.

Rain stabbed through crevices in the canopy, narrowly missing us and forcing our bodies to grind nearer. Unwillingly, we moved in sync. I dripped onto him, my nipples rubbed his chest, and my core fit against his.

Pull away, I told myself. Get away from him, I warned myself.

Instead, the words dropped like firebombs from my tongue. “I hate you so much.”

He licked his lips, tasting my declaration. “I hate you more.”

Yet the hate seemed to fuel us, feeding some twisted craving. My outtakes grew shallow and stunted. A molten sensation whittled between my thighs, the effect drastic. Without warning, the walls of my pussy clenched.

On reflex, my hips bucked an inch against the ledge of his cock, the friction streaking through my veins. The prince hissed, a curse lashing from his mouth. And on a gasp, I arched into the sharp noise. Another one of those, and I might combust.

His frame strained beneath mine, our bodies quavering like threads about to snap. The moment drew itself out, suspending us at a point of no return.

And then his cock swelled.

Long and broad, it rose into the vent of my legs. The head broadened, its solid width flush with my clit. A whine crept up my throat, the sensation so extreme that arousal poured from my crease.

The Prince of Winter pinned me in his arms. The most feared ruler on the continent had gotten his hands on me, those fingers knifing into my hips, his cock tightening.

This was wrong. So very wrong.

Yet I gyrated another inch, frustration urging me forward. In response, he gnashed his canines as if ambushed by the same vice, the same need to get rid of this feeling, to banish it from our systems.

Watching my mouth drop open, those black pupils inflated, eating up the irises. Caught up in his stare, I gave into a heinous temptation. And rolled my waist again, skating my clit against his cock.

Unleashing a pent-up noise, Winter struck. The prince shoved his forehead against mine, his mouth a hair’s breadth from my own. I barely had time to absorb the sensation before he skated his incisors over my chin, down the center of my throat, and to the glen between my clavicles. Along the way, he nicked and scoured my flesh, the contact agonizing.

Then his tongue joined his mouth, the hot flat tracing my collarbones.

My head slumped back, my lips parted, and my limbs fanned apart. I would have toppled over, but he grasped me tightly, his cock getting harder. The head bloated, so that I imagined its ruddy color and the slit where cum would bead to the surface, the thought watering my mouth.

Anarchy swirled in the ravine of my thighs. Under the chemise, my bare cunt pulsated, a rush of liquid heat pouring onto his lap and seeping through the fabric of his pants.

The prince emitted a hoarse noise. Motivated by that response, I shoved my tits into him, and he reacted. Hooking his fingers onto the straps of my chemise, he peeled the material down my arms.

My breasts lifted from the bodice and into the eventide air. The points toughened into pebbles, the sensitive tips raw and aching.

An intake of breath sliced through the enclosure. “Fuck.”

With my head flung backward, I couldn’t see his expression. Yet I heard him, sensed him. Delirious, I envisioned those eyes piercing, the lustful weight of his gaze on my breasts.

With a hostile groan, the prince’s mouth sank to the first nipple. All or nothing, he strapped his lips around the shell and sucked deeply. And all semblance of restraint fled my being.

A cry broke from my lips, somehow audible to his ears. Humming, he suctioned me into his hot mouth, then circled his tongue over the erect tip, the decadent swats throwing me into a tailspin.

I whimpered up to the trees. Over and over, this went. The prince sketched and nipped, plying me into a drenched mess, his tongue flicking until I was inconsolable.

“Yes,” he encouraged against my wet nipple. “Cry for me.”

I did, and I did, and I did. Spurred by my responses, he swerved to the opposite breast, his lips skewering me to pieces.

Lightning cracked. At the explosive noise, we snapped into motion.

Straddling his cock, my pussy moved in tandem to his mouth. I writhed my hips, grinding onto his distended crown, which lifted through the pants. Serrated noises cleaved from his lungs like shards of glass. Those iron muscles trapped me to him while I spread my knees, planted them on uneven ground, and hauled my waist into him.

While sucking my nipple with force, the prince’s groan struck my breast. His fingers trenched into my hips and hauled me forward, rowing my body back and forth, the pace borderline violent. Shockwaves catapulted up my legs, my folds parting and soaking his lap.