Page 17 of His Savage Sweet

My skin itched all over. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to touch him. I needed to get out of this gown…

With my shoulders bare, it was easy enough to shove the sleeves down further. His eyes widened at the realization I wore no chemise under the silk, then his lips curled into a devilish grin.

When I went to tug the gown down even further, his hands stopped me.

“Please. Let me.”

There’s that please again. A prince, asking me for a favor. I sighed in pleasure and melted against the seat. He could do whatever he wanted to me.

His gorgeous blue eyes never left mine as he tugged, then wriggled, then tugged some more.

When my breasts popped free of the confining silk, I sighed in relief, and his gaze dropped to them.

“Sweet fook,” he whispered reverently, his hands curling into fists. “These things are incredible.”

I smiled when I realized he looked like a starving man handed a delicious, plump pastry. I’d done that to him! Stifling a little giggle of joy, I arched my back and loved the way he groaned.

I licked my lips, knowing I couldn’t wait much longer for him to touch me.

“Anna.” His gaze met mine once more. “I want to taste ye. I need to kiss ye.”

Was he asking my permission? He was a prince, a powerful fighter, a beast in bed…and he was asking my permission, the same way he’d asked me to marry him.

How could I deny him anything? Why would I want to?

I didn’t answer him, but reached up to twine my fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, and pull him towards me. When our lips met, I thought the heat would scorch me.

He had the most perfect lips; firm and soft all at once. They pulled at mine, teased my tongue, drove me clear out of my mind until I was groping at him, both arms wrapped around his neck, not caring where the carriage was taking us, only that we were together.

And when his hands finally—finally!—reached up to cup my breasts, I nearly came off the seat. His thick thumb brushed across my right nipple while he squeezed the other, and the sensation left me panting against his mouth.

He twisted the little bud, and it was like someone had strung a wire straight to my core. I could feel the wetness gathering between my thighs, and pressed my legs together in an attempt to keep the silk of the gown clean.

Because, suspecting—hoping—this might be where the night was headed, I had chosen to wear absolutely nothing beneath the spill of green silk.

“Anna,” he muttered against my mouth, “I need to taste ye.”

Wasn’t that what we were doing? Because I was tasting all of him! The wine from dinner was still on his tongue…and so was I.

I must’ve nodded, judging by the way he pulled away so quickly.

I didn’t have time to be confused before he’d slid off the seat beside me to kneel on the tight floor of the rocking carriage. I reached for him, thinking he must’ve fallen, but his left hand on my right breast stopped me. He rolled the nipple between his thumb and forefinger while the other three fingers kneaded at the plump orb, and I forgot about being concerned any longer.

I moaned, arching under his touch, and that was apparently the only encouragement he needed. The next thing I knew, my gown was bunched up around my knees and his other hand was on my ankle, then my calf and my knee and my thigh…

Wulf’s shoulders were wide enough that when he moved between my legs I had to stretch my knees apart wider than I expected. I felt the cold night air on my curls right before he bent his face towards them. His breath was warm against my core, and I moaned at the delicious sensation.

“Ye hussy,” Wulf moaned softly. “Nay bloomers…”

Then he tasted me. His tongue—which had so recently been in my mouth—lapped and teased my lower lips, tasting the most intimate of my juices.

The Invasion of Brussels, page seventy-nine.

He’d read A Harlot’s Guide. Had he studied these positions? Had he practiced them?

I was breathless from the pleasure and the anticipation. The aching need, after spending two weeks without release. I never expected him—a prince!—to do something like this for me, but now I understood what he’d meant by tasting me. Judging from his groans of pleasure, he was enjoying it as much as I was.

Then his lips moved northward, and I stopped being able to concentrate on anything other than intense pleasure. His tongue circled the bud of my pleasure, my core, my clitoris. His lips sucked at the tiny nub and I almost screamed.

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