Page 9 of His Perfect Princess

"Have ye seen this position before, Clarissa?”

Slowly, I nodded my head. I had seen such books, with naughty illustrations, but I’d never studied them, the way he clearly expected.

“And have ye used this book before, lass?”

More vigorously this time, I shook my head.

His chuckle was soft, dry. “Good. I would have been disappointed, frankly, if ye had. I look forward to introducing ye to its contents, and instructing ye in its use.”

I swallowed, then licked my lips again.

He was staring down at me. "Does that excite you?

Considering the way I had reacted to the picture—to him—I couldn’t even pretend to lie. It was surely written in the flush across my breasts, the heaving of my chest. I squeezed my thighs together and took a deep breath. "More than you know, sir."

His lips curled into a wry, one-sided grin.

“I intend to try this with ye, Clarissa.”

This was the interview?

Oh Heavens, YES!

This was something I’d thought about—what girl hadn’t?—but I assumed it would happen after I was married. But this was Prince Rickard! It was like a dream true!

Eyes wide, I nodded, unable to form words.

What words could I form, after all?

Your Majesty, I would be honored to bring you pleasure?

I’ve never tried this before, but I cannot believe how much I suddenly wish to?

Please please yes please now?

All things considered, the silent nod was likely best.

“Good lass,” he crooned.

Then, without dropping his gaze, he reached for the buttons of his trousers. My eyes widened when I realized what he was doing, and I couldn’t help but stare.

I watched as he unbuttoned his trouser and reached inside to pull out…

To pull out the longest penis—no, he’d called it a cock—I’d ever imagined.

The picture in the book—which he’d placed on a console table beside us—was admittedly the first cock I’d ever actually seen. Of course there were the books I’d sometimes read, but this…

Oh Heavens.

It jutted out from between his legs proudly, too thick for me to wrap my hand around. It was a little darker than the rest of his skin, and seemed to grow even firmer as he stroked it.

Oh yes, he was stroking it. He was standing there in his princely suit, staring down at me kneeling in front of him, and he was stroking his cock.

Did it mean I was hopelessly depraved, if I thought that was the most arousing thing I’d ever seen?

I managed to find my voice. “Your—Your Royal Highness?” I swallowed. “Do you want…?”

“I’m interviewing ye, Clarissa…” His rhythmic strokes matched his hypnotic voice. “For a verra important position.”

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