Page 8 of Devilish Prince

"Is this what you wanted?" I grunt, sliding a hand up her thigh to fondle her clit. "To be fucked senseless?"

"Ohhh," she moans, hips thrusting against mine.

Her tone is still so hesitant, so unsure. I bring my head down to her neck and suck hard, wanting to leave a mark. She throws her head back and tilts it to the side, exposing her throat, and I take it. I mark her as mine. To anyone who sees it, it would be clear what she is to me. The pleasure is building deep in her core, and I can feel her walls clenching down on my cock. I can feel the tension building in her body, and it makes me want to push her even further.

"Play with your tits," I command. I thrust up into her again and again, hard and fast. My fingers dig into her hips and it's all I can do to keep her steady as I fuck her senseless. Her fingers come up to her breasts, and she massages them, pinching her nipples through her blouse. Her moans are louder now too, higher pitched. She's close.

"Do you want to cum?" I grunt.

"Yes," she hisses. "Please, yes."

"Come on my cock, Sofia," I say in her ear. "Cum for me."

She cries out as her orgasm claims her. Her walls squeeze down on my cock as she cums, and the pleasure is too much, even for me. I slam into her one last time as I come hard inside of her, emptying myself deep into her core.

I pull out of her as soon as I'm done, and she collapses backward against the sofa. I can't resist the urge to drop a hand to her breast, tweaking her nipple. It makes her breath catch. "You're mine," I growl at her. She looks down and away from me as if she's ashamed of the animalistic urge I've just satisfied. “Now, do you want my protection or not?”

I turn and tuck my dick back into my pants, zipping them up, but leaving the belt hanging loosely. She bends and slides her foot back into her slacks and panties and pulls them up, fastening them in silence. I watch her fumbling fingers knowing she will have weak knees as she walks away.

“Thank you, but no. I’ll see myself out.” She takes the first few steps toward her coat and I watch her legs shake. Her ankles wobble in the heels and then she nearly drops her coat as she tries to put it on.

“I’ll be in touch, Sofia,” I call after her and she doesn’t even so much as glance at me as she leaves.

Yes, I have her right where I want her.

5

SOFIA

Winter still has its damn death grip over New York, but today has been a bit warmer, only in the thirties instead of below freezing. I drove today, so as I exit the hospital and make my way through the parking garage, I whisper a prayer that my old Camry will start up. I’m off early today thanks to a scheduling mishap. I’ve had so many hours over the past few months when my supervisor said we were double scheduled, I volunteered to go home and give the other surgeon the shift. I’m on call, but the hospital is never busy enough to need two trauma surgeons.

I shiver, my heels clicking on the cement as I approach my car. It’s been two weeks since I left the nonsense with Lorenzo Gatti behind me, and all of the medical staff involved have checked in more than once to thank me for putting my life and career on the line for them. I’m just glad it’s over, though I’ve had a few dreams of that sex with him, and I don’t mind those one bit. The man has the body of a Greek God and isn’t afraid to use it. I had to go home and shower after that experience and found myself late to work.

The thought of him brings a smile to my lips at first, but it soon sours as I push my key fob to remote start my car. The car clicks like a playing card in a bicycle spoke and I know it’s dead again. I grit my teeth and scowl. Even on my day off I can’t catch a break. It’s as if the universe has conspired against me for months to make sure I don’t rise to new heights or something. I kick the tire and growl beneath my breath, releasing a puff of crystalized breath into the air.

At this rate I’ll be waiting until someone comes along who has a set of jumper cables or a tow truck can get to me. I should have backed into the space to make it easier in the event this happened, but I wasn’t thinking this morning when I got here. Calvin’s depression is lifting now that he knows he’s been accepted into the trial this summer and he was talkative. I didn’t want to leave him so I was running late, and now this.

“Goddammit…” I pull my phone out and swipe to unlock. I have to call roadside assistance, but if a kind stranger comes along before then I can always cancel it.

My insurance company has a handy app for these matters so I open it and put in my current location then type in my need—a jump start—and submit the request. The app tells me it will be more than an hour before someone can get to me, and I think about going back inside the hospital, but no one will no I need a jump if I’m waiting in there. So I stash my messenger bag and purse in the front seat of the car and lean on the trunk to wait. My feet are freezing; these sensible shoes weren’t meant for being outdoors in winter for any length of time, but then I didn’t expect this to happen today.

Several cars whip past without noticing me wave my hand at them. One man is nice enough to stop and put his window down, but he doesn’t have a set of cables and neither do I. Whenanother car approaches twenty minutes into my waiting, I am shivering so hard I look like a seizure patient. They slow and the window comes down, and the man inside leans closer to the passenger window. He’s wearing a sock hat pulled low over his forehead and thick glasses with black plastic rims. I immediately feel uneasy, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“Hey, need some help?” he asks in a gravelly voice. I feel my body tense and the hairs on my arms stand up.

“Uh… dead battery,” I tell him, gesturing over my shoulder with my gloved thumb. I’m thankful I’m wearing scrubs and not a skirt today, but nothing could prepare me for the chill of anxiety as he nods and throws his car into park.

“Sure thing. I got a set of cables in the back…” The man leaves his car running and hops out, rounding to the back of his car. It’s a station wagon, old school kind with wood panels on the sides and windows all around. I straighten and watch him, hugging my arms over my stomach. The garage is quiet now, no other sounds. Only a few cars have been past here, and being the faculty garage, there isn’t exactly a steady stream of patients in and out for moral support.

The man comes around the back end carrying some jumper cables after he shuts his hatch and nods at my car. “This it?” he asks, and I step back. I know how to do this. I’ve seen it done a dozen times, but now I’m feeling uncertain about it.

“Yes…” Reaching into my pocket, I press the unlock button, thankful there is still enough charge to trigger the power locks. The man wiggles between my car and the one parked next to it with his cables in hand and opens my driver’s side door. I glance nervously around the garage, still hearing no other sounds, and I linger near the running engine.

Then I feel awful for making such base assumptions about a kind man who has stopped to help me. He didn’t have to, and he could have just driven past like those first few people. He reaches into the car and pops the hood, then goes around front and opens it. I can’t see what he’s doing, so I shimmy between the parked cars and round the hood, only to see him with a pipe wrench in hand, cables draped across the cold engine.

He looks up at me, his face obscured by the darkness of the garage. “Where’s your purse?” he asks suddenly, and I feel my heart jump into my throat. I take a step back and stare at him, unable to form words.

My mind races with possibilities, fear coursing through my veins. I never should have been so trusting; I should have known better than to stay in this empty garage and let a stranger help me. He takes a step toward me, and I freeze, unable to move. He reaches out his hand but I flinch away. My heart pounds in my chest.

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