Page 126 of Their Princess

My voice was surprisingly loud with my heightened hearing. I swore I could hear his heartbeat. Everything I could smell, feel, and taste felt like someone had turned up the volume.

I could smell him too.

Sas didn’t wear cologne, and I doubted he owned a bar of soap, but his natural musk was... soft. Manly. Nearly overpowering. Maybe that was just now, but I could also smell the remnants of the bonfire wafting from him.

Without touching me more, he was gone.

His boots scuffed the floor, each sound too heavy and too loud and circling me.

I trembled. “Sas?” The waver in my voice surprised me.

No answer.

“Sas.” I reached for the blindfold, but he pulled it back down. His large hands could take up my whole face.

“Don’t,” he growled.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“You said you wanted my cock.”

Heat covered my cheeks, and my pussy throbbed. Over the lump in my throat, I said, “I don’t think I said that.”

“You didn’t have to, princess,” said Sas, and I sensed... laughter.

He was fucking laughing at me?

Truthfully, I would be laughing at me too. How many times had I seen other girls get into situations like this? How many times had I told Catrina not to fall prey to any of the aggressive men in the nightclubs?

Yet I had opened myself up to this, and I... yeah, I liked it.

“Your body says it all.” He inhaled loudly. “Your scent says it all.”

My scent? Me? My arousal.

Damn my body for giving it away.

“So you want to be my little slut.” He laughed. “You could’ve fooled me with how you walked in wearing a robe. A prude move. Are you a prude, princess?”

“Are you a dick, Sas?”

“Absolutely.” His voice came from another direction. How had he moved so quick? “Tell me, princess. Do you want to be my whore?”

“It’s what you’ve been calling me,” I said, trying to follow his voice.

“Do you always listen to what men say about you?”

It came from another fucking direction. How the hell was he doing this?

“No, I don’t listen to what men have to say about me,” I said, but my words faltered.

“Oh, I know. You don’t take orders well.”

“Those aren’t the same thing,” I said.

“Do you agree or disagree about taking orders?”

Was his voice nearer? Somewhere in front of me? It was starting to circle around my head, making me dizzy.

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