Page 44 of Devilish Prince

“Do you need more wine?” I ask, seeing her glass is nearly empty now. Sofia blinks slowly and turns away, not answering me. Her despondence is a turn off, but I’m not here to get more enjoyment out of her. She’s a wilted flower, suffocating in the arid wilderness of her own emotion. I walk toward her and pick up the glass and fill it, then put it into her hand.

She drinks deeply, devouring the entire glass and holds it out for me. So I fill it again, and her eyes lock on mine. Her hand hovers in midair, as if waiting for me to take the glass and consume it myself or dispose of it, but I set the bottle on the stand and lower myself to my knees on the charcoal travertine.

She says nothing as I pick up the bar of soap from the soap dish and plunge it into the water, but her eyes stay fixed on mine. I create a lather of suds on a washcloth and begin to sensuously wash her arms, starting at the wrists and slowly working my way up. As I move, I feel her muscles relax and the tension in her body dissipate. Her skin is soft and smooth under my hands, like silk. I take care to be gentle but thorough as I cleanse her of the day's dirt and grime.

I move on to her neck next, massaging away any knots or tightness she may have there. Her shoulders are tight, so I begin to knead and rub them, using my fingertips to apply pressure and help her relax. As the muscles loosen, I move on to her back, washing it with long, gentle strokes. She sits up, but her shoulders droop. My hands glide over her skin as if they have a mind of their own, caressing and soothing her in a way that no words could ever do, claiming her as mine with every touch.

I move to her chest and she lays back, allowing me to continue. I take the warm cloth and softly rub it over her skin, wiping away any remaining dirt or sweat. I use both hands to wash her tits, my fingertips kneading them as I work. A soft moan escapesher lips that part as her eyes shut. I move my hands with expert precision, pinching and twisting each nipple carefully to an erect peak that can't be hidden beneath the bubbles.

Then I start at her toes and work upward, washing her legs. I use the cloth to make sure all areas are completely clean, paying special attention to the sensitive parts of her body such as behind the knees and inner thighs. As I move up toward her crotch, she gasps and arches her back in anticipation of what's to come.

My hands pause just before touching her most intimate area, allowing her to spread her thighs to me. Her eyes flutter open again and look into mine. I'm gentle as I touch, washing her silky folds. The amount of blood she shed earlier today indicated to me that she had torn substantially. I'm sensitive to that as I wipe her clean, but even after the cloth is out of my grasp and floating in the water, when my fingers touch the slips of skin around her entrance, I feel her moisture. It's thick and sticky, clinging to her and refusing to be washed away.

"I..." she moans as I touch her hooded nub, but her legs spread for me.

I begin to massage her, working her up. My fingers knead and stroke her clit, my palm pressing against her mound as I rub in circles. She pants in pleasure; it's clear on her face. Her hips rock into me, pushing herself further and further into my touch. I can feel the heat radiating from her core. She is drunk and pliable beneath me. Her pussy tightens around me. Sofia moans louder with each caress, like my fingers have magic in them, drawing soft gasps from her lips.

Her hands reach for my wrist and grip it as her body rises and falls to meet my thrusts. I watch her chest pound, hertits appearing and disappearing beneath the bubbles. The water sloshes but remains within the confines of the bath.

"You're a good girl, aren't you, Sofia?" Her lips remain parted, but she says nothing.

My fingers continue their work, drawing pleasure from her pussy. I can feel her wetness on my skin as the water washes away the soap bubbles. I watch her eyes roll back in ecstasy as she breathes heavily and writhes beneath me. She grips my arm tightly, like a lifeline, as I send wave after wave of pleasure through her body.

I can sense she is close to climaxing so I focus all my attention on her clit, pressing and rubbing with just enough pressure to make sure she gets exactly what she needs. She's mine and I take care of my things, especially after a day like today. She had to learn a hard lesson, and she took it well, better than I expected.

"That's it... Good girl."

Her cheeks flush, her lips darkening to a deep red. She's frantic now, grinding on my palm so hard I may cut her with my fingernails, but she doesn't seem to mind. She seemed to enjoy being fucked hard over that sofa, being torn open until her pussy was smeared with blood, and my pants permanently stained with her body fluids. She likes it rough, so rough I can beat her, and cut her, and choke her. But she likes this too—me on my knees next to her with only my fingers to get her off.

"That's it, baby, come for me now." My words seem to be the trigger she needs. "Be my little whore and clench around me. Pretend my fingers are my cock and milk me." I keep working her up, drawing pleasure from her pussy until she's bonelessbeneath me. Her body tenses beneath me, and her breathing becomes ragged.

Her inner walls clench around my fingers and she rocks against me. She's lost in the moment, completely unaware of anything else. I continue to fuck her as she writhes, not yet at climax. I can feel the tension in her muscles building and her breathing becoming faster and faster until finally, with a loud moan, she comes undone. Her body tightens, her thighs squeezing my wrist as she throws her head back. I keep rubbing her, watching every inch of her skin, marveling at the beauty that is Sofia in the throes of orgasm. She rides out the waves, shuddering and moaning until the last one passes. Then I slowly pull my hand away, leaving her there in the bathtub, panting and exhausted from the pleasure I just gave her.

I lean forward and press a gentle kiss to her forehead before standing up. The water has gone cold now but it doesn't seem to bother either of us.

"Time to get out," I say, rising. I offer her my hand and help her out of the tub. I take the towel draped over the side of the tub and dry her off before wrapping it around her body. She stands up and looks at me with pain in her eyes; I can feel the strange animosity-laced connection we have as I rub the towel over her skin to dry her. She hates me for what I’m doing, but depends on me to make things happen. She loathes that I'm forcing her to marry me, but craves the security of how I dominate her and take control.

Sofia has been so out of control in her life, the dominant female who needs a man to come remove the obstacles she's tried to get over her whole life. She's tired. I see it in her eyes. Tired of caring for everyone else. It's why she likes when I am in charge, because my shoulders are strong enough to carry the burden and she isweak in that aspect—forced to raise her brother from a young age. She leans into me because she’s tired.

“To bed now,” I tell her, turning her. I take another towel from the back of the door and carry it. As she moves to the bed, I use it to massage her hair and get most of the moisture out of it. She pauses and lets me work her scalp and massage it.

Then she turns her head and says, “I’ll marry you.” It’s such a defeated tone I’m not sure if I should be pleased that she is finally relenting, or infuriated that she’s broken. Where is my wild mare? Where is the vicious fighter who draws the monster out of me?

“I see.” I finish drying her hair and drop the towel on the floor, then remove the one draped around her naked form.

“I need Calvin in that trial. It starts in three days now.” Her chin nearly touches her shoulder as she looks at me from the corner of her eye.

“We will have but consummated our marriage twenty-four hours before that time, Sofia.” I grip her by the arms tightly and kiss the back of her head.

“Swear it.” She remains limp even as she says the words, and I know her spirit is broken. But it will return. The fight will come back. I will draw it out of her like a vampire brings blood to the surface.

“It is done already. You are my queen, and I live for you now.”

She pauses there, watching me in her periphery. She’s thoughtful for a moment before climbing into bed and pulling the covers up. “I’m sleeping now.”

And finally, things are as they should be.

I turn off the light, strip off my clothing, and climb into bed behind her. My cock is hard, but I won’t bother her again tonight. I’ll save it for my wedding night. She’s going to need me fresh.

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