Page 88 of Bitter Prince
He grabbed me by the back of my neck and pulled my mouth back to his. I melted into him. My nipples tightened as they brushed his chest, sending sparks lower. I hummed into his mouth, grinding against him like my life depended on it.
His hand slid up under my skirt and I trembled at the feel of his strong, graceful fingers on my skin.
I was burning up with need, every cell of me shaking. Pushing my hands into his hair, I ran my blunt nails over his scalp. God, he smelled so good. A clean, masculine scent with hints of citrus and ripe green apples.
I rolled my hips, the friction between us making me moan into his mouth. He slid his fingers under the hem of my panties and brushed against my clit.
“Feel how wet you are.” He pressed his mouth against my ear, running a thumb across my clit. “Is that for me?”
He palmed my pussy and my skin caught fire.
“Ahhh,” I moaned, grinding against him. I could taste the pressure coiling tightly in the pit of my stomach. “We’re falling into a habit.”
He pressed his mouth against my ear, his words rough. “You’re the best kind of habit, cinnamon girl.” A shaky breath escaped me, sounding like a needy whimper when he thrust a finger inside me. “You’re so perfect,” he groaned. “And mine.”
I watched him through heavy eyelids, his eyes a pool of galaxies telling me stories. I brought my hand down and pressed it against his chest. I shifted on his erection, slowly rocking my hips and grinding against him while staring into his eyes. Every cell inside me lit up, growing hotter and brighter.
I chased my release. It was within my grasp, but it felt wrong to take it. He’d been making me feel so good, but I had yet to pleasure him.
He tugged my dress down to my waist, trailing his lips down my neck until his mouth came to my breasts. He licked at my nipple through the thin lace of my bra.
“Amon,” I breathed. He captured a nipple in his mouth, nipped it, and white light shot behind my eyes. He turned his attention to my other nipple and I gasped, my head falling back. “Wait, wait. Stop.”
He instantly stilled, his one finger inside me and his mouth on my breasts. He looked up with such intensity in his eyes that I almost forgot what I wanted to say.
“Are you okay?” he asked coarsely, his gaze locked on me. “Did I hurt you?”
My throat felt tight when I realized what he was thinking, and something warm and heavy melted within me. His protectiveness rivaled only his possessiveness.
I brushed my nose against his. “I want to make you feel good too,” I exhaled.
He murmured something in Japanese, and it radiated heat down my spine.
“This is for you,” he growled.
I pressed my lips to his neck, tasting his skin. His one hand settled in my hair, running through my locks, while I trailed my hand down his abs until I reached his groin. I brushed my fingers over his bulge and he grabbed my wrist.
I moaned in protest, my hips moving against his hand. “Your fingers are touching me. I should be able to touch you too.”
His jaw clenched, almost as if he worried he’d snap. He wouldn’t. I trusted him more than anyone else in this world.
My breathing hitched, my ears buzzing with desire and blood pumping through my veins. I fumbled with his pants, lifting my butt just enough to unbuckle him. The sound of his belt, the seductive echo of the zipper, and our harsh breaths vibrating through the small space of the car. He let go of my wrist in a moment of consent, freeing me to do as I wanted.
The moment my fingers wrapped around his cock, his head fell backward with a guttural groan and a “fuck” slipped from his beautiful, kissable mouth.
I wanted to please him. I wanted to make him lose his mind. I wanted to lose my mind.
“Show me,” I murmured, nipping his bottom lip. He was so hard and hot in my hand, his shaft heavy and smooth. “Show me how you like it.”
“First your pleasure.” His voice was heavy with an accent I couldn’t place. Italian, Japanese, English—I didn’t know, but I loved it.
His palm pressed against my clit, causing delicious friction. His hand was rough, applying just enough pressure until my passion coiled. He thrust his finger in and out of my wetness, his thumb stroking my clit in tandem. Hesitantly, I curled my fingers around his length.
“Fuck,” he growled, which only spurred me on. I loved having control over him like this. To give him pleasure, to match how he made me feel. I couldn’t resist pumping him in my fist, mimicking his tempo. Up and down. The muscles in his body tightened. “That’s it, baby. It feels so good. You feel so good.”
His praise coated me like honey.
Ecstasy unfurled in my veins as he kept sliding his thick fingers in and out, rubbing a spot deep inside me. My pussy clenched around them as I pumped his smooth, hard cock. Judging by the way he watched me through hooded eyelids, I must have been doing something right.
