Page 64 of The Princess Trap
She thought of what he’d said before.If I put my mouth on your cunt, I’ll come.Couldshedo that tohim?
She wanted to. And she knew he’d meant it. She knew he wanted her that much, and nothing had ever made her feel more powerful, more lustful, in her life. So she begged.
“Please, Ruben. I need…” This was why she couldn’t let him turn the lights on. She wanted this, and she knew it, but even in the dark her cheeks burned and her words stuttered.
But he was there, his voice firm, his dominance cutting through her hazy thoughts and leading her straight to the truth. To her truth. “You need to come on my tongue.”
“Yes. I need you to make me come.”
“Good girl. Was that so hard?”
“Oh, fuck off.” She didn’t know if the words had escaped or if she’d set them free. One second she wanted to push, the next her veins were alight with lust-edged fear, her breath trapped in her lungs as she awaited his reaction. Would he deny her? Would he change his mind?
He sank his teeth into the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, and she yelped. Then he pushed two fingers into her cunt, spreading them wide, stretching her. “Watch your fucking mouth,” he growled, “or I’ll put my cock in you. Understand?”
She ignored the flare of arousal, the twisted desire to test him. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
“Good.” The rough slide of his fingers inside her disappeared. She almost whimpered at the sudden emptiness.
Then he slid his hands under her arse, squeezing as he pushed her hips up, forcing her pussy closer to his face. She grabbed at the sheets, her fingers twisting the fabric in anticipation. His breath turned cool as he blew against her entrance, and she realised how wet she was. Ridiculously wet. Embarrassingly wet. But all she felt was desperate need.
And then he kissed her.
His lips were soft but firm, parting her folds with the same delicacy he’d use to kiss her mouth. His tongue snaked out to probe her entrance, lapping at her juices, and his fingers tightened around the globes of her arse. He groaned low in his throat, the sound raw and guttural. Then his lips left her and his tongue grew firmer, tracing a path of fire up the seam of her pussy until it reached her clit.
He used the very tip of his tongue, stiff and firm and wet, to circle her swollen nub. She almost screamed. Round and round he went, until she jerked her hips in a desperate attempt to ride his face. It didn’t work. He pulled away completely and bit her thigh, a warning. She tried to stay still. Gritted her teeth. Pinched her own nipples in an attempt to feed the lustful hunger inside her.
Apparently satisfied that she’d behave, he returned to her pussy. And finally, blessedly, his tongue pressed against her clit, rolling the needy flesh back and forth, just the way she needed it. Cherry sighed and spread her legs wider to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders.
He laughed, soft puffs of air that felt hot against the wetness of her pussy. “You like that, love?”
“Don’t stop.”
“Demanding, aren’t you?” But he licked her again, and again, and then his finger eased inside her. It was thick and long and deliciously rough, but a single finger after the way he’d stretched her out felt like a tease and he knew it. That fucker. She was ready to scream until he turned his hand, palm up, and curled the pad of his finger against the upper wall of her pussy.
He stroked that soft place inside her, the place that sent electricity sparking through her veins and white-hot fire up her spine, and all the while his tongue rolled at her clit. Then he sealed his lips around the swollen nub and sucked, so, so gently, his finger stroking her with firm confidence.
She came. She came harder than she’d thought was possible, her body fracturing and falling apart and coming back together again, molten and liquid. She came so hard that breathing felt unnecessary, and if she’d had any sight in the darkness she probably would’ve lost it for a second. She came so hard that everything around her fell away until she was just a body, floating on a breeze of satisfaction.
She didn’t realise that Ruben had moved until she felt him kiss her cheek. His lips were soft, but his stubbled jaw was sticky and he smelled deliciously filthy. He smelled like her. Fuck.
“Cherry. You okay?”
“Mmhm.” Apparently, she couldn’t speak.
He laughed softly. “Good.” His fingers trailed over her lips,as if he were learning their shape. He kissed her again, on her forehead this time. “You tired?”
“Mmhm.” If he’d stop talking, she’d already be asleep.
“Okay. I should go.”
That gave her pause. “Why?” she demanded.
He caught one of her hands in his and dragged it down to his waist. Pressed it against the front of his pyjamas. The soft fabric was marred by a significant wet spot.
“Oh.”
“I did tell you,” he murmured, his voice tinged with humour.
