Page 90 of Their Princess

The tension now was like when he had slipped his finger between my ass cheeks. He had hinted at touching me where no one had before. Where I had never touched myself. My skin had tingled where he had touched me, only for arousal to spread through my lower belly. The inferno inside had grown when he said Graff could have me, and I had considered it—climbing up Graff, kissing him, and then shoving myself down on his lap.

Having his hands on me for the tattoo had almost driven me mad. That combined with how he kept checking to make sure he hadn’t been hurting me. Such a sweet, tatted, hulk of a man. I made a note to circle back on that little exchange between him and Sas, though.

Graff had shown me a gentle giant, and that did things to me too. That Sas seemed to have no problems sharing with him tempted me then, but I couldn’t muster the courage with so many others around.

The MC, not Rafe or Sas.

Had it only been the three of them, I don’t believe I would’ve hesitated.

The lack of relief from the throbbing, though, had led me to rushing rashly after Sas.

I lifted my chin, looking him dead in the eyes, but he still dwarfed me. He always would. Sasquatch, as his name said. He tilted the corner of his lips up in a smile, crinkling the skin around his hazel eyes.

“What?” I demanded.

“Why did you follow me?” he asked.

I clamped my jaw shut. It was a good question, but I wouldn’t give him the answer. I wasn’t even a hundred percent sure.

“What?” he purred, pressing his pointer finger against the bare skin in my chest. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I didn’t think you liked cats,” I muttered through clenched teeth.

“I like pussies.”

He dragged his finger down between the cavern between my breasts, and I tried to calm my breathing. It was impossible.

“You have a lot of pussies to choose from,” I said, wriggling in his grip.

“I’ve had them all.” He tightened his grip. “But they’re only bunnies. Cute. Small. Fluffy. Too willing to please.”

“So what?” I bit out.

“I want something with more claws.” He ghosted his hand over my face and brought his long fingers to rest on top of where I held onto his arm. “You have those, don’t you?”

I locked my jaw shut, and he smiled.

“Don’t try to hide them now, princess,” he said. “I’ve already seen you use them. Against me.”

“Do you expect me to apologize?” I asked, my breathing haggard.

“Never.” He hit the zipper on my sweatshirt and then pressed his finger hard into my skin, hitting my breastbone. Then he pushed harder. “I want you to use your claws.”

I finally unlatched my jaw. “You think you can handle it?”

His coy but cocky smirk turned into a full-on shit-eating grin. “I’ve been handling it quite well. Don’t you think?”

“Really?” I rolled my eyes.

In a flash, Sas released his hand my neck. I fell back to my feet, stumbling, but he grabbed my chin between his thumb and two fingers. I was shocked by how quickly a large man like him could move. For having such long limbs, I expected there to be more of a delay. His long fingers bit into my jaw and curled up my cheeks.

With his other hand, he trailed his fingertips under my eyes. He could dig his fingernails into my skin, leaving me scarred, and if he gave me the chance, I would definitely leave claw marks on his skin too.

Maybe that was what he wanted.

Sas had lost his smile, and anger burned deep in his eyes. Our little game stalled.

His upper lip twitched as he growled—a wild, untamed noise that sent chills racing through my body.

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