Page 72 of The Princess Trap
“Good.” Ruben pushed his finger into her, revelled in the clench of her walls around him, stroked until the tightness eased and his skin was soaked in her desire. Then he slid out of her velvet cunt and rubbed his slick finger over her clit, massaging the stiff nub in a slow, easy circle.
She clutched his shoulders and moaned for him. Her hands floated to the buttons of his shirt. He let her undo the first, the second, before he captured her wrist in his free hand and said, “No.” He stopped touching her clit.
“Why?” she demanded, frustration in her eyes.
“You’re not in charge, sweetheart. Remember that.”
With a little growl, she caught his face in her hands andkissed him. He allowed himself to enjoy her lush mouth, her hot, searching tongue for a few seconds before he pushed her away. Then he brought his palm down against her arse. Hard.
She bit her lip on a moan, grinding her pussy against his erection, through his clothes, and he spanked her again. “You’re going to mess up my suit, love.”
“Fuck you.”
Another slap. Before she could react, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back, his grip just tight enough to stop her moving. “Don’t push me, Cherry.”
She laughed, the sound breathy and hoarse. “But that’s what I do. I push.”
His hands couldn’t stop roaming over the cool silk of her skin, but they might as well still be in the dark, because he still hadn’t looked down. Her face was devastating enough, beautifully bare, her lust impossible to miss.
That animalistic voice in his head, the one that had come to life the moment he’d first set eyes on this woman, chanted in time with his ratcheting pulse:Take her. Now.
He’d wanted all of her. Now he could have it.
“Stand up,” he ordered, sounding as desperate as he felt. So much for fucking control. “Let me see you.”
Her tongue slid out to wet her lips, and he imagined the way her mouth would feel on his cock. He wanted that. Then she eased off his lap, and he released her hair, and she stood. And he couldn’t look away.
At the sight of her naked body, his mouth went dry and his mind went fucking blank.
Jesus Christ.
Fully clothed, Cherry was already a walking fantasy. Naked, she became something unimaginable. However hard he tried, Ruben could never have dreamt this up. His eyes followed the curves of her body, from those wide hips to that soft, rounded belly, to the gentle sag of her heavy breasts with their thick, dark nipples. She was like a rose in full bloom, delicately decadent.
She trailed a hand down her stomach, towards the apex of her thighs. “You better have condoms.”
“I have fucking condoms.” He reached down to fist his cock through his clothes, squeezing hard until the pain of his own grip took the edge off of his savage desire. He wasn’t about to shove his dick in her like a fucking animal, but that’s what his balls were demanding.
All at once, he stood, intending to get the damn condoms from the suit jacket he’d discarded. But it turned out he was physically incapable of walking past her at that moment. When he tried, his feet refused to move, and his hands brought her to him. Ruben clung to his control as if it were a cliff’s edge, clung to her as if she were sanity. And he kissed her, and kissed her, and wondered how the hell he could want one woman more than anything in the world.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cherry arched into Ruben’s powerful body, the press of her nakedness against his clothes strangely erotic. His kiss was hard and unrefined, his hands roaming over her body as if he’d never felt it before, grabbing at her arse, her thighs, her belly, her breasts. As if he were hungry. As if he were desperate.
But slowly, gradually, something changed. Shifted. His kiss softened, his tongue sliding over her lips as if he were tasting her, savouring her. He slid a hand into her hair, angling her head back until the line of her throat was exposed. When he dragged his lips down that sensitive column until his mouth settled over her pulse, she felt his hot tongue as if it were between her legs.
Then he kissed lower, trailing over her chest. He pushed one of her breasts up and sucked the aching nipple into his mouth. She moaned, the sound ragged and uncontrolled, and he looked up at her with that infuriatingly sexy smile, completely at odds with the lust in his eyes. “I like it whenyou moan for me,” he growled. He caught her other nipple between finger and thumb, rolling the tight nub. “You like this, my love?”
“You know I do,” she panted.
“But I want to hear you say it. I need to hear you say it.” Before she could think about that too hard, he pulled her nipple into his mouth again, suckling her, each pull somehow tugging at her clit as well as her breast.Fuck.
His hand slid down her body, tracing the contours of her waist, her hips, as if he couldn’t stop touching her. As if he had to remind himself that she was still there, that she was real. The feather-light touch of his fingers felt like the sweetest torture, an electric charge ratcheting up with every second, skating across her nerve-endings.
Then, as suddenly as he’d started his erotic torture, he pulled away. Her eyes slid open to find him staring down at her, his jaw set, something dangerous in his dark gaze. “Come here,” he said, and the command in his voice sent a thrill through her. He settled a hand against the back of her neck, led her to face the loveseat they’d just left.
“On your knees,” he ordered, his voice sharp as a whip.
She knelt on the plush, velvet cushions, her hands settling automatically on the loveseat’s high back.
