Page 137 of Their Princess

I bit the inside of my lip and nodded. “Last night was about Sas and me. I knew from the moment I rode off with him that it wouldn’t be anything gentle or beautiful. And if I didn’t want that, I would’ve called Rafe over to stop him.”

Graff started to move.

But I held him in place. “You’ve shared women before, true?”

“Yeah, but?—”

I placed two fingers across his lips. “But nothing. This morning, it’s just you and me here, and I want this.”

After searching my face for a solid minute, he slipped out of his shirt.

“Jeans too,” I coaxed.

When we were both entirely naked, I spent long minutes letting my fingers roam over his ink. A pattern started to emerge from the varied designs.

At his ear, four tiny birds.

The sleeve on his right arm had the four elements interlocking in a vibrant watercolor piece.

A four-leaf clover over his heart.

And so, so many more.

“What’s with the number four?” I asked, letting my hand linger in the valley between his pecs and abs where there was an intricately designed numeral four.

“It means family.” The words sounded strangled.

I couldn’t understand what was behind the strained words and started to ask.

But then Graff grabbed my face, threading his fingers into my hair, and pulled me to him. My lips met his for another languorous kiss.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” he said between kisses. “We need to make this quick, and I’m really, really not good at quick.”

When his cock was free, he lifted me up and positioned me, so the crown of his thick shaft lined up with my hole. “I’m thicker than Sas. Are you ready?”

Biting my lower lip, I nodded as Graff pressed the head inside.

I braced my hands on his chest. “Holy shit. You weren’t kidding.”

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I wanted to watch him entering me, stretching my pussy to accommodate him, but I couldn’t resist looking into his gray eyes.

“Your body will adjust. Just match my breathing.” He inhaled.

I took a shaky inhale too and then he exhaled. I mirrored that as well. On the next breath, he pressed in another inch.

A whimper escaped.

It wasn’t only his size, but the way I’d been used last night. Still, he was thick. I flashed back to the feel of him in my hand and my fingers failing to reach around his girth.

“You’re fucking huge,” I complained.

He smiled and gave me a cocky “Thanks.”

And just like that, I swear the weapon he was wielding got even thicker.

“More?” he asked, and I loved how considerate he was being.

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