Page 85 of A Princess for Christmas

She climbed right back on top of him, except this time there was nothing between them, so it was her, the slick, soft heat of her, that slid against his thighs as she straddled them. She tilted her head and did that thing where her brow knit—just a little, almost not even enough to notice—as she braced herself on his chest and leaned forward.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, suddenly feeling like she was trying to see into his soul or some shit.

She leaned a little closer, and her attention intensified. “I’m thinking how much I enjoy looking at this lip.” One of her hands floated up, and she rubbed her thumb over his lower lip, lettingits tip make an incursion into his mouth. “Sometimes I want to bite it.”

He huffed a startled chuckle.Startledwas the word of the day, apparently. She was constantly startling him.

“So why don’t you then?”

She leaned forward and did just that—and he was startled anew.

He’d been expecting a little nip, and that maybe she’d then soothe that nip with another kiss, but no, not his princess. She did exactly what he’d told her to do—shebithim. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to hurt.

The quick infusion of pain was a jolt to his system. It ratcheted up his need. He growled and flipped them. Covered her with his body and took control. He dragged his mouth along her throat, enjoying the feeling of her pulse thundering under his lips.

She threw her head back and moaned, arching her chest. He reached for her breasts, and the sound she made as his hands made contact was half relief, half dismay. She was so soft. But also so hard. He’d thought her nipples had gotten so hard earlier because they’d been out in the cold, but it turned out it was just her. He adored the way the little nubs grew sharper and sharper as he twisted them gently between thumb and forefinger.

“Leo,” she gasped. “Leo.”

“You like this, Princess?” Experimentally, he twisted a little harder.

“Yes!” she cried.

“What does it feel like?”

“It feels like . . . too much but also not enough.” She wiggled underneath him until she was splayed open beneath one of his thighs. “And, when you touch me there”—she nodded at the nipple he wasstill working over—“I feel it here.” She ground up against him. She was so slick, so warm, he suddenly felt like he would die if he didn’t get his hands or his mouth on that incredible softness. Not wanting to stop with the nipple onslaught she seemed to be enjoying so much, he replaced one hand with his mouth, which made her jerk.

“Shh,” he soothed, before he refastened his mouth over a perfect pink peak. He sent his now-free hand between her legs, parting her folds and stroking her. After a few minutes, she was restless again. It took a moment for him to register that she was trying to get out from under him. With regret—sharp, metallic regret—he rolled away, panting.

She crawled over to a heavy oaken nightstand, yanked open a drawer, produced a box of condoms—prophylactics, to use her term—and tossed it at him. He sucked in a breath as he was overcome with... something. Lust, yes, but not only that. His chest felt light. It felt like... joy?

Okay, enough of that. There was no call for melodrama. He was just really glad she wasn’t calling a halt to the proceedings.

“Well?” she said, drawing him from his uncharacteristic bout of self-examination.

The impatience in Marie’s tone made Leo smile. It made him feel like a million bucks, actually. He tore open the box, then an individual condom packet, and sheathed himself.

He reclined on the mound of pillows against the headboard and held out a hand.

“I’m meant to be on top?” she asked.

“You’re meant to be whatever you want, but if you’re on top you’ll have more control.”

Her eyes widened and a slow smile blossomed. She took hishand, and he had the sudden, absurd notion that he was helping her into a carriage that would take her to a ball or some shit. She reached for his dick with her free hand and he groaned just at that. She kept hold of his hand with her other hand, and slowly, slowly, guided him inside her.

“Oh, fuck, you feel good,” he ground out, and she let loose a needy moan. “You’re so wet, I fucking love it.”

She started moving, and soon they’d established a rhythm, a slow, steady... dance, almost. That, along with the fact that she hadn’t let go of his hand, sort of reminded him of when they’d actually been dancing.

Except dancing hadn’t made him feel like he was going to explode. He tried to slow himself down, but it was no use. The pressure gathering was an unstoppable force.

So as with the dancing, he moved her where he wanted her. He slid himself down on the bed so he was lying flat, taking her with him. She’d been sitting up, grinding herself on him, but he pressed on one thigh to indicate that he wanted her to straighten her legs and lie on him. “C’mere,” he said gruffly, and she did, tipping forward until she was stretched out on top of him, those maddening, sharp little nipples scratching his chest. He slid himself down a bit, aiming to line up their bodies so her clit made contact with the base of his dick. Another of her moans told him when he’d hit a good spot, and he let one hand settle heavily on the curve of her ass to keep her in place. “Rock yourself on me.”

She did, burying her face in his neck. The hand that was still holding his pressed his own down on the bed next to his head, her fingers laced in his. Pinned down by the princess.

There were worse places to be.

He rocked in sync with her, resisting the urge to thrust in opposition to the movement of her hips and letting his free hand slide back and forth over the curve of her ass.

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