Page 116 of The Proposal Problem

I grind on his dick, feeling it grow underneath me. My body tingles, and my cunt aches at his movement. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of his cock.

And luckily, I can die trying to.

It looks like there are some benefits to marriage after all. His hands grab the sides of my head, pulling my lips to him. He kisses me.

It’s gentle at first—he’s taunting me—making me wait for it.

I kiss him back, firmly and passionately, pleading for more.

I reach for his dick, freeing it from the briefs he just tucked it into, and pump it hard.

My need for him is insatiable. He lays me back down on my Reem Acra royal wedding dress, fingering my clit before he plunges into me.

I gasp, not prepared for his fullness. But naturally, the wetness of my cunt lubes around him, easing him into me, and I stretch, holding on to him firmly.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.”

I push against him, forcing his dick deeper into me, guiding him to that euphoric spot.

“Fuck me, harder,” I direct, moaning as he moves more quickly.

Staring down at me, he cups my jaw and kisses me forcefully.

“You’re the hottest damn Queen, Percy.”

Fuck yes, I am!

I kiss him back, matching his desire.

He pounds into me, hard. My head hits the back of the carriage, and I reach up to steady myself. The dress helps to cushion the blow somewhat, and I find myself thanking marriage, once again.

I smile, realizing that sex in a carriage—in aroyalcarriage—is a first for me.

I’ve fucked in a lot places, in a lot of cities with many people…but never a carriage.

And to think, out of all of the powerful men who’ve fallen in love me, a prince is the one who takes me down with him.

I never saw that one coming. Or I did, I just didn’t want it or know it…yet.

A girl’s gotta learn for herself what she wants and what she doesn’t want. And for me, that takes fucking time.

I could’ve been arm candy for many CEO’s or Governor’s, or I could’ve been a football or basketball wife. I really had my pick of the litter, after such a long and illustrious career of being a sugar baby.

But none of those men—all attractive and powerful as they might be—had the ability to handle me. Not like Anton. They never made me feel the way I do with him.

He makes me feel good about myself, not just by supporting me, as he has done many times—and in many places—but by giving me the freedom to be myself.

He lets me run wild and free. And is always there to catch me if and when I fall.

The other men—or daddies—never had the capability of putting me in my place…if I get out of line, which is rare.

They would try, but it was pitiful. Honestly, they never had a chance in hell.

But with Anton, he knows exactly what to do and say to bring me back to him and down to earth.

Who would’ve thought that a royal prince, with a bitch of mother—snotty and trite—could handle me? And make me fall in love with him?

I grab his face and kiss him, passionately, adoringly.

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