His fingers tightened on my breast, and the flash of pain only served to heighten the way his other hand was caressing my inner thigh. Then he eased two of those fingers inside me, all the while his tongue played with my pearl…and I knew I was going to orgasm on my prince’s face.
The pressure began building around his fingers and against his face. And I knew he knew, because I could feel him smiling. Holy God, that sensation was the best yet!
“See?” he hummed against my core. “We could spend the rest of our lives doing this.”
What? Oh, he’d suggested marriage. At that moment, I couldn’t remember a single good reason to object. All I could think about was how good he felt, how good I felt, and how good it had felt when he’d fooked me on that table.
The memory of that evening, of his huge cock ramming into me like a beast, set me over the edge. I felt my inner muscles tighten around his fingers and I pressed my clitoris closer to his mouth.
But right before I went spiraling over that cliff, Wulf pulled away long enough to look up at me and smile. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so erotic as a gorgeous man kneeling between my legs, his face covered in my liquid desire, smiling seductively up at me.
Until he spoke.
“Marry me, Anna.”
That was when he leaned forward once more and, without breaking eye contact, dragged his tongue along my cleft to circle the pearl of my pleasure.
And I exploded all over him.
“Aye, Wulf!” I screamed, not even caring what I was agreeing to, or what my objections had been, as my orgasm crashed over me in waves of bliss. “Aye! Aye!”
Chapter 8
Wulf
When your mother is the queen, it’s really damned impressive, all the things which can be organized in a matter of hours.
After Anna had come on my tongue, I wanted to fook her more than I wanted my next breath. But I’d already disrespected her once, and I wouldn’t again. I wanted her, aye, but I was going to wait until we were married.
Now she’d agreed to marry me, I wasn’t going to push my luck. I’d be able to make love to her—practice the positions described in A Harlot’s Guide—for the rest of our lives.
Unfortunately, my cock didn’t take that as any consolation, and I all but tripped down the stairs to the family quarters, finding it difficult to walk with a cockstand. Luckily no one stopped me on the way to my chambers and I was able to fall into one of the large leather chairs in front of the empty hearth, my hands already fumbling with my trousers.
I pulled out my cock, rested my head against the chair, and closed my eyes. I stroked slowly, remembering her taste.
Her cunny had been the best thing I’d ever put in my mouth, and I was a gourmand. Anna’s pussy? It beat everything I’d ever tasted. I licked my lips, tasting the memory of her, and stroked my palm up and down my shaft.
I came with a soft grunt, imagining my hand was her wet core, milking me.
It wasn’t nearly as good as the real thing, but it was enough to hold me over until the wedding.
Had I wanted to fook her that night? Obviously. But I was still ashamed by how I’d treated her in that kitchen, whatever had come over me.
After the wedding, we’d fook however and whenever we wanted… And if that included the kitchen, I’d enjoy that too. Hell, I’d let Alisa and the others watch—even the twins. I’d finally found the woman I wanted to spend my life with.
The woman I loved.
Mother was, of course, ecstatic.
The family was still at dinner when I walked in. I nodded to Rickard’s wife, ignored my father completely, and told my mother I’d found the woman I wanted to marry and she should have something arranged immediately.
I supposed that meant a few days, at the very most, and I was already trying to come up with a logical argument to convince Anna to spend time with me rather than the kitchens. Little did I realize a royal wedding could be arranged in a matter of hours.
Literally, overnight.
And that’s how I found myself standing in the castle’s chapel, Findlay by my side, watching Rickard—I couldn’t even be irritated with him today—walk down the aisle with the most beautiful woman in Creation.
My woman.