Page 44 of Royal Darling
He pulls the covers back, grabs me by the waist, and tosses me on the bed. I’m too shocked by the manhandling to protest. I’ve never been tossed about in my life.
He crawls over me, his arms straight on the mattress on either side of my shoulders. “Spread your legs and tell me what you want.”
I open my legs to him and point. “I want you. Your kiss.”
He slowly lowers his head and kisses me breathless. He shifts to my ear, his voice deep and coaxing. “Say the dirty words.”
My cheeks burn. I can barely curse out loud and he wants me to talk dirty? “Can’t you just carry on?”
He flashes a wolfish smile before lowering himself down my body. I relax because he’s taking the hint, and now he’ll go back to making me feel wonderful. He lingers on my breasts, his tongue flicking over my nipple, his other hand cupping my other breast. My back arches as he pinches and rolls and caresses, flooding me with sensation. His mouth closes over my breast, suckling deep, a direct line to my throbbing sex.
I moan softly. It occurs to me suddenly that the door isn’t locked, and the guards will step in if I sound like I’m in distress. I can’t guarantee I’ll keep quiet. “Lock the door,” I order.
He lifts his head. “You think the guards will come in?”
“If I sound like I need them.”
“And how will that sound?” His hand trails down my stomach, making it quiver, and lower, between my legs, making me throb. “Hmm?”
I bite my lower lip, stifling a moan. “Like passion.”
He grins, his blue eyes sparkling playfully. “Getting there.”
He climbs out of bed, locks the door, and strips down naked. Heat pools in my belly, my womb aching. He’s beautiful, all sculpted sinewy muscle, his movements sleek and predatory as he approaches, his erection thick and hard. He wants me, proper Emma Rourke. Except I don’t want to be that person anymore. With Jackson I can experience the other side, the wild side.
I open my arms to him, a rare affectionate gesture, and he ignores it, instead grabbing me by the hips and shifting me sideways, pulling me toward the edge of the mattress, where he then kneels between my legs. His hands slide up my inner thighs, spreading me wider, and then finally he touches me, his fingers tracing me lightly, teasing. He blows lightly over me and my hips lift. Then his fingers trail up and down lazily, everywhere but where I need him the most.
“Jackson,” I order, only it comes out half desperate.
“Yes, Emma.”
“Please.”
“Tell me exactly what you want in the dirtiest words you know. If you don’t have them, I’ll happily teach you.” He flicks his finger across me and my hips jerk.
“Kiss me there,” I blurt.
He gives me a naughty smile, a glint in his eye, and then surprises me, rising to his feet and getting in bed, lying on his back. “C’mere. I want you to come on my face.”
I scoot to an upright position and stare at him.
He crooks his finger at me. “Come on, dirty girl. You are a dirty girl, aren’t you, luv? Not a proper princess.”
That is exactly what I’m trying not to be, as I shared with him when we first met. I shouldn’t question his requests, I should just go along. Of the two of us, he’s the expert in taking a walk on the dirty side. With fresh determination, I crawl over to him.
At the last moment, I can’t bring myself to do it, so I kiss him instead. He lets me, his hand sliding into my hair, kissing me for so long I forget everything but the pleasure. He kisses amazing—deep and hot and wet, occasionally jolting me with a nip and then a soothing suck. I didn’t know a kiss could hold so much. I have to get closer. I shift more fully on top of him as we kiss, straddling his erection, rocking against him, desperately craving our joining. His mouth becomes harder, more demanding, his hands roaming all over me.Yes.I need more. I moan deep in my throat.
He breaks the kiss suddenly, breathing hard. His hands clamp on my hips and he lifts me up his body. “Hang onto the headboard.”
I grip the cushioned top, expecting him to shift behind me. Instead he shifts down the mattress, his face directly under me, staring at my exposed sex. Oh, God. “Jackson, this is…”
“Dirty? This is just the beginning. Now gimme that sweet pussy.”
I close my eyes, flushed with embarrassment. I can’t move. I’m caught between a lifetime of propriety and long-denied needs.
His fingers trace over me, stroking lightly. It’s not nearly enough. My hips rock mindlessly, aching for him. “Come on, dirty girl. Tell me you want me to eat your pussy. That’s what this is, your pussy. So wet for me, so needy.”
I swallow hard. My whole life it’s been referred to as my “unmentionables.” It’s tough to talk about something you shouldn’t mention. “Jackson, please.”
